Christina’s Detention

“Christina?” The professor’s voice boomed from inside his office. “You can come in now.” Slowly Christina dragged herself up off the bench. The hard slats had left marks on the backs of her thighs. She rubbed at them and straightened the pleats in her skirt, nervously trying to compose her appearance before she went in. She smoothed the top of her head and twirled the end of her ponytail into one bouncy curl.

Her shoes scuffed on the hardwood floor, announcing her presence before she appeared in the doorway to his office. The interior was dimmed by the heavy drapes drawn over the windows behind his desk. The light in the hall illuminated her from behind, silhouetting her long legs. She reluctantly stepped into the office, her shoulders slumped, her lips in a sullen pout. She knew she was in trouble and was trying not to care. “Sit,” the professor commanded her, motioning to a chair.

Christina did so, slouching in the big studded leather chair in front of the fortress of his desk. She crossed her legs, nudging the front of the oak desk with one of her mary janes. Idly she wiggled her foot to make designs on the polished surface with a residue of the rubber from her shoe. The muted light shimmered over her legs. Christina tugged her skirt a little lower so that it didn’t ride up so high.

“I assume you know why you’re here,” he said sternly. She nodded, her ponytail bobbing. He continued. “It puzzles me that you refused to incriminate any of the others involved in this–” he seemed lost for words. “This mess,” he finished. “You realize that by taking all of the blame you risk expulsion.”

Christina’s head jerked up at the mention of being kicked out completely. The professor took in her consternation.

“You cannot expect me to tolerate such behavior without some sort of punishment.”

“I know.” Her voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. Christina’s lower lip trembled.

“I am going to be lenient with you, Christina.” She dared to look at him now, her large eyes apprehensive. He was not looking at her, was instead examining the backs of his hands on the desk. Her eyes dropped to notice how long his fingers were. Involuntarily Christina saw a split-second image of his fingers buried deep in her, stroking her G-spot, his thumb rubbing her clit as she cried out. Her face did not change, but when he looked up at her a blush colored the tips of her ears. A new kind of fear was in her eyes.

Suddenly the professor rose from his massive chair behind the desk. He linked his hands together behind his back and paced his office, nearing the door. Anxiously Christina watched him, twisting her head to follow his movements. Her hands were restless in her lap. The professor shut the door to his office. “What kind of punishment do you think you deserve, Christina?”

She turned around more fully, uncrossing her legs and leaning around the edge of her chair. “What do I think I deserve?” Her voice was still unsteady. Christina looked at him, tall and intimidating. She bit her lip. “Um, that is–“

“Yes?” He urged her to go on.

“Well, I don’t think… I don’t think you should expel me.” She said the words in a rush and winced. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought up the dreaded possibility. It seemed more likely that it would actually happen now that she had mentioned it. To her surprise the professor laughed.

“Expulsion is not what I had in mind,” he said, for the first time his voice warming. She sighed in relief, blowing her bangs off her forehead. Christina relaxed a little, knowing that whatever punishments she suffered, at least she would stay in school. She realized the professor had moved closer, was in fact standing over her. “I won’t expel you if you promise to be a good girl.”

The hairs on the back of Christina’s neck stood up.