Teaching Tara (An Age Play Story), page 1
Teaching Tara (An Age Play Story)
Devon Shire
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First Edition
©2012
Someone knocked on his door. It was soft and timid, a student James guessed before he looked up. It was his office hours, so he shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet he was. Sure, students showed up all the time, but he didn’t expect to see this girl.
Tara. A sophomore from his second semester, she had enrolled in his college composition course about two months before. Back then, he supposed she had a lot of potential. Now she struck him as the kind of college girl who showed up because her parents made her.
Tara stuck her head inside and asked very demurely, “Professor, may I come in?” She sounded extremely polite. That was something. Even though he spent the whole semester teaching them about audience awareness, plenty of students showed up and demanded entrance as though their satisfaction really mattered. Despite having just turned thirty, James already had a tenure-track position.
“Of course,” he said and typed a few more words.
“I really need to talk to you,” she said somewhat unnecessarily.
James glanced away from his computer screen. He wanted to chuckle at her, but laughing at students never came off well. Besides, a complaint to his department chair could lead to a bigger headache, so he gave her a modicum of courtesy. Not that she deserved it.
As pretentious as it sounded, James considered himself to a serious scholar. He wanted to understand the world, and as a teacher, he wanted to help his students do the same. But then he got pupils like Tara. On the first day, she had seemed eager and able, but as the semester dragged on, she got distracted. She didn’t seem to pay much attention in class. Unlike most of the others, she didn’t play with her phone or computer, but her work was sloppy and poorly considered.
James suppressed a sigh, mostly because it wouldn’t do any good. He had dealt with plenty of students like her. They showed up to college and expected it to be just like high school. Chances were she flirted with her last teacher or said something adorable stupid to get her through. Only James believed in the university system. He didn’t want to see bad little girls like her get through it.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
Tara tightened her lips for a moment as though she had to work up the nerve to broach some taboo subject, “Um, I need to discuss my grade with you.”
“All of your scores are on the class portal,” he said at once. It was the automatic answer. The points added up. Now the numbers decided who passed and who failed, only finals were approaching fast, which meant a lot of the students suddenly became very concerned.
“Yeah, I know. But I’m failing,” she said, her voice drifting off as though she never considered this possibility.
“So what would you suggest at this point?” asked James. He generally turned these conversations back on the students. Too often, they tried to make it sound as though it were the teacher’s fault.
Tara didn’t use that tactic. Instead, she licked her lips and said, “Please, I really need to pass. Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?”
“Why do you need to pass so badly?” For most students, the answer was simple. They felt the class was a waste of time, so they didn’t want to have to take it again. A few of them were dumb enough that they actually told the truth
“I’m on scholarship,” she said. Before he could say anything about personal responsibility, she looked at him for the first time. She had pretty blue eyes, he thought. “Please, Professor Emerson, I know I’ve screwed up. It’s just that I’ve been really distracted in class, and I know it’s my fault, but I want to do well, and it’s really hard, and I know I should have tried harder, but I want to succeed. Please, is there anything I can do, anything at all?”
Her teacher paused to take her in as he considered the situation. He had been looking for someone for some time, and now he watched her with a different set of eyes. She had misbehaved. She had been very naughty, ignoring her schoolwork and turning in shoddy assignments. Okay, he thought, he might be able to help her.
Besides, Tara was very pretty in an innocent girl-next-door sort of way. She had straight, dark brown hair with red highlights, blue eyes, and a few freckles along her nose. James had never been terribly interested in any of his students. She had softly rounded features, enough to give her a youthful and nearly innocent appearance. And once in a while, he watched her in class and how she talked and chatted and laughed with her classmates during break. She could be animated and intelligent when she wanted to be. Plus she had a gorgeous body. Even though she tried to hide it, her breasts were firm and plump. She also had a slim waist and sexy legs. The guy who got to play with her would be very lucky indeed.
He hadn’t considered using Tara for his side project before, but she was looking better by the second.
“What are you asking for exactly?”
“I need to pass. Just tell me what I have to do.”
James leaned back and seemed to consider this. “It wouldn’t be fair if I simply gave you a passing grade, especially if you didn’t deserve it.”
“Look, I can write another set of papers or redo the homework or do a presentation. Please, this is very important to me.”
James gazed back at her for several moments, not because he wished to learn anything new of this girl, but rather to let her squirm a bit. Too many students figured they could beg and plead their way into passing any course so long as they had a sad story to tell. By this point, James couldn’t even remember how many students lost a grandparent in the last five weeks. There must have been a virus striking at the elderly.
It worked. Tara did squirm as she sat there, eyes downcast. She didn’t know what would happen if she failed. On one level, she knew she deserved it. When the semester began, she had been so determined to succeed. James was the young kind of English teacher, the sort that made her want to learn as much as possible because he was straight-up hot. But then she kept getting distracted by fantasies of her and her professor. Now she had to pay for it, and she had to beg, and she hated it, but there didn’t seem to be any other options.
“Are you really willing to do anything?”
Under a different set of circumstances, his question might have sounded dirty, and Tara would have liked that. A lot. Instead though, he simply came off as an annoyed instructor tired of dealing with entitled brats.
“Yes, I’ll do anything.”
“Alright, one second,” he said and turned back to his computer. He searched through a couple different folders. As she waited, Tara squirmed a bit more. She tried to look relax and serious at the same time. She probably just came off as awkward and unsure of herself.
After another minute or so, he finally clicked one more icon, and the printer beside his monitor thrummed to life. Three sheets of paper were spat out. James gathered them up, checked to make sure they were the right one, and passed it to her.
“Tara, this is a contract. If you really want to pass this class, then you’ll sign it and I will put in the extra work to help you pass.”
“Really?” she sounded dumbfounded as though she were surprised he would really help her. “Thank you! Thank you so much! Professor Emerson, I promise I won’t let you down!”
“Hold on there,” he told her, the gravity of his tone weighing down her good spirits. “Before you get too excited, read the contract. If you agree to its terms, sign it and give me a call. My number is one the front page. Understand?”
<
James grinned at her even as she kept babbling about how she wouldn’t let him down. Then she hopped up like an over sugared bunny and sprinted from his office. Once she left, he closed the door, sat back, and wondered how long it might take to truly train her.
Tara clutched the papers to her chest as she strode down the hall. She couldn’t believe it. He was going to give her a second chance. Sure, it would probably be a lot of work, but what if he wanted to tutor her?
Tara didn’t like admitting it, but she sounded a lot like a schoolgirl with a crush whenever she thought of her teacher, Professor James Emerson. Even his name sounded romantic. Before his class, she never understood the girls who said a handsome teacher could make it hard to concentrate.
Well, now she knew…
Since she didn’t have any more classes today, Tara headed back to her apartment. It was right off campus, so it only took her about twenty minutes. Through the whole way there, she tried to concentrate on her essays. She had a lot of work to do, but if she tried hard, she hoped to make them good enough to impress Professor Emerson.
When she finally unlocked her front door and headed inside, Tara found her roommate already on the couch, feet up, remote in hand. She looked bored as she flicked through the different channels. She only paused for a moment before moving on. She jumped between court shows, basketball games, and a movie about cheerleaders.
Tara plopped down on their love seat and started reading through the contract. It was surprisingly complex, so she glanced back to Jessie, “Hey, want to put some of your pre-law major to work and tell me what you think of us?”
Jessie perked up. Unlike a lot of their classmates, she was especially eager to get out of school. Most of the people they knew still wanted to party and savor every moment of freedom they could. Jessie, on the other hand, was the kind of Type A workaholic who craved nothing more than the corner office at some prestigious law firm where she could save or condemn the planet.
She hadn’t decided yet.
With an eager grin, Jessie rolled off the couch and snatched up the outstretched paperwork. She fell back onto the couch, back straight this time, knees together, and studied the material. Tara watched for a while as her friend worked through the material.
“Tara, this is pretty serious.”
“It’s a contract,” she said. “I’m not doing so well in English.”
This time Jessie glanced up, her eyes lit with a twinkle of mischief. “So all that time spent gawking at Professor Hot Stuff didn’t help you learn the material?”
“Not so much,” said Tara, falling back against the back of her seat. A burst of energy ran through her as she pounded her fists against the air and giggled like a middle school student, “It’s not fair! He gets all serious as he’s talking, and it’s so hot! How am I supposed to pay attention to what he’s saying when he looks so good?”
“Well, this includes some mandatory tutoring.”
“With him?” Tara had hoped. She had definitely fantasized. But she never considered the actual possibility a professor like Emerson would be willing to spend time with her. Most of the teachers at his level spent their time in libraries or laboratories. Suddenly Tara felt a touch of heat along her neck and up her cheeks as she considered the possibility she might really get to spend some time with him.
Alone.
It seemed too good to be true.
“That’s how it looks,” Jessie said, pinching her eyes as she examined more of the fine print. “You know, this isn’t one of those dinky contracts teachers write up and stable to their syllabi. This thing looks pretty serious.”
“He’s a serious guy,” said Tara with a shrug while her friend went back to reading through the complicated legal jargon.
As Jessie read, Tara rested her cheek on one hand and let herself drift. She wondered how it would be to spend time with Professor Emerson. A glut of nervous excitement started to swirl through her chest as different images played out in her head. Like maybe they would be talking about writing or literature, and it would get late, so he would have to give her a ride home, and she might lean in to kiss him, and he would pause, but then he wouldn’t be able to hold back.
It was a stupid fantasy, but Tara didn’t care. She kept thinking of other things they might do together. They could go to the movies or a play or even just watch TV together. She didn’t care as long as they spent more time together.
Wow, she sounded silly. Tara got it, but she couldn’t bring herself to get genuinely annoyed. He was smart, kind, funny. She wanted to get to know him better. And sure, there was something of an age difference, but she didn’t mind.
Whenever she looked around at the frat guys who populated her classes, they always seemed way too immature. She didn’t want someone who spent his hours contemplating the fastest way to get drunk. She wanted someone smart, someone who could read.
And it didn’t hurt that he was handsome and really, really sexy.
“Tara?”
“Huh?” she said, snapping back to reality.
Jessie looked puzzled for a moment, “This is actually really serious.” She started to go over the text again, almost as though she couldn’t entirely believe what she had read, “If you sign this, then you have to do what he says. He’ll have complete control over your grade, and it sounds like a lot more.”
“What else?”
“Like he could force you to complete whatever assignments he gives you. You would be legally bound to do what he tells you.” She grimaced for a moment, “To be honest, I don’t think you should sign it.”
“But if I don’t, I’ll fail the class.”
“So you retake it,” Jessie said with a shrug. “It’s not the end of the world.” Of course, Tara’s roommate didn’t know about the scholarship or what would happen if her GPA took another hit.
Tara swallowed and tried to seem happy. She smiled, but it didn’t feel terribly convincing, so after another moment, she said, “Thanks for your help, but I really want to do well. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Tara called Professor Emerson and told him she had read the contract, signed it, and wanted to know what she had to do then. He gave her an address and asked her to meet him there. They were going to work on her essays, so she should bring her laptop and research materials.
Deciding that Jessie had just been paranoid, Tara gathered her things and drove over. The house she found was nestled into a nice neighborhood with big yards and fences. Trees shaded the narrow roads and it seemed like the sort of place where kids would ride their bikes or play baseball in the park she passed.
Once she found the right house, a small Tudor with a big oak in the front yard, Tara gathered up her things, checked the contract again, and got out. She rang the doorbell and waited, shifting her weight from side to side as a cloud of nervousness gathered in her chest.
She didn’t know what could go wrong, but then she thought of spending some time alone with Professor Emerson and her heart sped up. “Okay,” she told herself again and again, “It’s okay. You’ve got a little crush on him, but this is going to be professional. You’re just going to study.”
But what if something else happened? The tiny voice at the back of her head kept whispering about all of the naughty things they could do together. Without meaning too, she visualized him standing behind her, pulling the curtain of her hair back so he could nuzzle, then kiss the nape of her neck. A shiver of pleasure danced down her spine and made her hop once.
Right then, the door opened. Tara felt a blast of heat run through her skin as she blushed, probably from her toes to her hair.
He looked just a gorgeous with his strong jaw, dark eyes, and when he smiled at her, Tara felt herself melt a little. The imagined sensation of his breath on her neck made her shiver a bit while he held out his hand.
Tara shook it, “Hello, Professor Emerson. You have a lovely home.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I try to take care of it. Now, do you have your things with you?”
