Her Seductive Student
By Ashley Brook
Copyright 2012 Ashley Brook
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It was only in her senior year, after having been her professor almost every semester she'd been in college, that I realized Emma Larson was trying to seduce me. I am not, I should clarify, stupid or blind. It's more a case of having been a professor for over twenty years, which goes a long way toward inuring one to the delights of nubile student bodies. Or not: my male colleagues, even some fairly progressive ones, never seem to stop leering at them, from afar. For a variety of reasons (mostly due to anxieties about dealing with those male colleagues), I mostly keep my attraction to women quiet, and acting on that attraction confined to summer vacations, far from any colleagues. Not that it's that difficult. Work is work, and as intellectually invigorating as teaching world literature through a feminist lens is, it's not the “flirtiest” subject. Until Emma.
Emma was a star soccer player, and cut an eye-catching figure walking around campus. She was tall, with full, straight brown hair with blonde streaks, golden brown skin, with a body like willowy iron, and her supreme physical confidence pulled all eyes to her. I would occasionally run into her in the gym, and while that frequently involved seeing her in little more than a sports bra and short shorts, what would result was less ogling lust and more a reminder that I would never again be that young. And I'm not terribly old—by any reasonable definition anyway; fifty is the new thirty and all other magazine cover aphorisms—and I still, if I may, look rather good naked. But Emma, well, Emma was uncommonly gorgeous.