Chapter 1

I noticed Alice immediately. She was the kind of girl one noticed. It wasn't just her shape, although that certainly had a lot going for it. She was fairly short, about 5' 4" I guessed, with the kind of figure that made you sit up and stare. She was slender, almost wasp-waisted, which made her full, very feminine hips stand out by contrast. Above, a set of full breasts balanced the equation. She wore sweaters a lot, the sort which molded themselves to her shape and made you want to bay at the moon. Despite this, she had the look of being tight and solid, a body with an athlete's muscle tone but with the curves of a courtesan. Her hair was brunette, and she wore it falling to her shoulders in soft waves. Her face was not beautiful exactly. One could complain that her chin was too weak, her lips too full and sensuous. She used makeup with precision. Her soft brown eyes seemed to look at you from some deep, unreachable place in her soul. Looking into them produced a sense of disquiet, of something not quite right with their owner. But I didn't find that out right away.

She appeared in my second-year chemistry lab at the beginning of the semester. Apparently she had put it off as long as possible, a not unusual occurrence for non-science majors. Her class card listed her as a senior, which would make her about twenty or twenty one. Chem 2 lab was my last class of the day, meeting at 3:20 in the afternoon. I was the lab instructor, which made me a sort of second-class citizen in the academic hierarchy. If I kept my nose clean and didn't rock too many boats, I could look forward to promotion to Assistant Professor some time in the next few years, and possibly tenure a few more years after that. Things move slowly in the academic world.

Meanwhile, I was a glorified bottle washer. A nine month contract gave me the summer off (with no pay). Being at the bottom of the salary scale, I didn't go out much, so I had little opportunity to meet women. I was surrounded by young women during the day, but one of the absolute no-nos of the teaching business is that you don't mess around with the students. That's often hard; some of them seem to like to hone their skills on their instructors. However, one of the few things which can get you fired, even with tenure is having one of them succeed and getting caught. So although I looked long and longingly at Alice Klemper, that's all I could do.

She noticed my attention. My class consists of about a half hour lecture describing the experiment du jour, followed by the lab exercise itself. The first few days she sat in the middle of the room for the lecture, but I guess I concentrated too much on her part of the room, and she became aware of how often I glanced in her direction. She began sitting in the front row. I must admit my eyes were drawn to her wherever she was. She was that kind of girl. When I looked at her, her eyes stared back at me, forming a deep pool which drew me in until I felt the surface closing over my head and broke myself away with a start. It never seemed to fail.

She favored very short skirts, and every time she crossed her legs I was watching. She was certainly aware of my interest, and went out of her way to draw my attention. My lack of feminine companionship probably showed on my face.

She began to tease me. It became a game; me trying to concentrate on my lecture and Alice trying to distract me and make me stumble. She would sit with her lips pursed in a solitary kiss, stroking them with one finger, her eyes glued to mine, hoping I would look at her. If I did, she would stare into my eyes with her face lowered so she appeared to be looking up at me with a inscrutable half smile. I know what you're thinking, and shame on you, her expression would say. Unfortunately, she was right.

I tried to avoid her eyes, because I knew that once she caught me I had trouble letting go, and my speech stumbled and my concentration went all to hell. When I learned how to do that, she got inventive and raised the stakes. She would drop a notebook and lean over to pick it up, stretching out a slim nylon-encased leg way out where it was sure to get my attention. Or she might just slouch in her chair, sticking out her legs, her skirt indecently high. When I glanced her way, she would be toying suggestively with the hem. Her eyes would lock on mine. 'Want to see some more?' they teased, while one finger slowly stroked the exposed top of her leg. I had the feeling that if I so much as nodded, that totally inadequate skirt might drift even higher, showing off more of her long, bare thighs.

She might hook her heel behind a rung of her chair so it raised her knee (and the front of her mini). She would swinging the knee back and forth, opening and closing the gap. I was pretty sure I could see the white band of her panties in the shadows under her skirt, and spent much more time than I should have trying to determine if I was really seeing what I thought I was. I began to get an erection and had to hide behind the podium to cover my embarrassment. It didn't help; she had seen it, and flashed me a knowing smile, amused by my discomfort. Eventually, once she had my full attention, she would lowered her leg to cut off my view, and grin at me. Gotcha!

Not that I minded. She was a delight to look at, but it did take my attention away from what I was supposed to be doing, which was, of course, the whole idea. She obviously wasn't terribly interested in chemistry.

In the lab, while I was circulating among the students, she would stop me with a question. It was usually delivered in a breathless, bedroom voice, and was usually something inane, like "Oh Mr. Jackson, would you tell me again how many milliliters of phenolpthalien to use. I forget. My head is such a sieve, isn't it?" She would stand uncomfortably close, looking up at me in all wide-eyed innocence, her shoulders back and the tips of those magnificent breasts almost touching my shirt. She may not had known how much indicator to use (which I doubt), but she certainly knew to the millimeter how far her nipples were from my chest. If I let my eyes flick downward from her face, she won.

She almost always won.

Especially when she left too many buttons undone. She knew how often I looked at her chest, and how it fouled me up. She wore things that opened in the front. I knew if I allowed my eyes to drift, I would drown in the swelling sea of flesh visible down the front of her blouse. But I couldn't look her in the eye either. Those eyes...

She loved it when I stumbled over words and couldn't form a coherent sentence to answer her. That was the whole point. She proved over and over that breasts are more powerful than intellect.

Once I was caught, she played me like a fish, leaning forward to give me a better view. She'd fold her arms under them and lift them for me. I caught her doing up her front afterward once. I didn't actually see her do it, but the next time I looked she was all prim again. She was not into giving a show to the class generally; she reserved that for me.

I held office hours after class on Wednesdays and Fridays. This was ostensibly a period when students could visit and deal with their problems in class. If fact, unless I specifically invited someone, it was rare for anyone to show up. I generally used the time for preparation. I was just about to go home one Wednesday when Alice showed up on my doorstep.

"Mr. Jackson?"

"Yes Alice?"

"Can I talk with you? Have you got a minute?" Her voice held a tone which implied more than talk, I thought. She was still playing her games.

"Of course," I replied, "That's what I'm here for."

"Oh, yes. Of course you are. I'm glad. I have kind of a private matter to discuss with you."

"Are you sure I'm the one you want to talk to about this?"

"Oh yes. You're the only one who can help me with this uh, personal problem I have." She all but twisted a lock of hair in her fingers like a little girl. The front of her blouse was open to working depth. What the hell was I getting into here?

"Well, OK Alice. I'll do what I can. Sit down."

She sat next to my desk and leaned toward me, the loose bodice falling away. She liked lace bras, I noticed.

"Thank you so much Mr. Jackson. I knew I count on you. We need to talk about my grade."

We do huh. "Well Alice, you know you didn't do all that well on the last quiz. And your write-ups tend to be a little, shall we say, lacking."

"I know. That's what I want to talk about." Her arms were folded and pressed against the undersides of her globes, squeezing more soft flesh up and out of the bra (just in case I hadn't noticed). "I have to explain. See, I'm not very good at chemistry. I'm really good at some things, but it's kind of like, science isn't really my thing, you know?"

Indeed I did. Next would come a plea for special treatment.

"I have to do something. I mean I need this course to graduate. I wondered if there was something I could do to make up some of the stuff I didn't do so well at. Maybe a special project or something?"

"Alice, I don't know what I can do for you at this point."

"Please Mr. Jackson, there must be something. I'll do anything I have to to pass this course, you know what I mean? There must something I can do?" She paused. "Isn't there some way I can satisfy you?"

So there it was, on the table. She leaned forward more, giving me the full treatment, letting the front of her blouse drop open, in case there was any question. I could have sworn there was at least one more button undone that when she had come in. She caught me looking and pressed harder.

"Really Mr. Jackson, a lot of us girls aren't as good as men at this stuff. It takes a man to understand chemistry like you do." (And real men don't have breasts like mine, do they?) "Could you maybe help me with it? Like, could you give me private lessons or something? I can't afford a lot of money, but ... A classroom is so distracting, but If it was just the two of us, I'm sure you could teach me everything. There's so much I need to learn, don't you think so, Mr. Jackson?"

She had worked her way to the edge of the chair until she was only inches away from me. I could smell the subtle perfume of her. It was tempting, but not at the risk of my job.

"Alice, I teach chemistry. You're going to have to find someone else to teach you what you want."

She looked at me for a moment, watching me stare down the front of her blouse. Her face clouded. "You bastard!" she said slowly. "You rotten bastard. You didn't hear anything I said, did you? Too busy smirking and looking down the front of my blouse. You think I came in here to trade sex for a grade, don't you? Let me tell you something, I don't care if I pass your lousy course or not, do you hear me? I don't give a shit. I don't give a shit for you either, you fucking bastard!"

She swung at me then, a big roundhouse slap which I fortunately saw coming and caught with my arm. She tried again and once again I caught her arm, and we struggled briefly. Her blouse lost another button and gaped open. She saw me looking. I couldn't help it!

"Well you like that, don't you." She squared her shoulders back. "You like to look at my tits. You do it all the time. Well take a good look, it's the last time you'll be able to." Her hands yanked the blouse wide.

"Alice..."

"Just shut up, OK? I hate dirty old men like you. You come for help and all you want is to get into my pants. You know what I'm going to do to you? I'm gonna get you fired, that's what. I come in here willing to work hard to try and make up my grade, and what do I get? All you do is stare at my tits. You were going to rape me, weren't you?"

"What?"

"You heard me." She was pulling her blouse tail out of her skirt as she spoke. "I saw you looking up my skirt. You were going to rape me, but I'm not going to sit quietly and let you get away with it. I'm going to tell everybody. I'm gonna tell the whole fucking world what you tried to do!" She pulled the blouse off of one shoulder and tugged down her bra strap on that side.

"Alice, what are you doing?" She was moving toward the door, so I went with her. She dug inside the loose bra cup and pulled her left breast out into the open.

"You wanted to see my tits, OK, take a good look. Let's see what everybody else thinks about this!" she screamed. "You got more trouble than you know what to do with, mister."