His New Student (Closed for hadruprider)

Finally she’d made it to University to read Physics. Physics! That made them sit up and take notice, take her seriously. It wasn’t just a boys’ subject anymore!

When she said ‘finally’, she didn’t mean, ‘finally’, just that she’d been looking forward to this all summer.

She was a University Student, she was in Hall and so living away from home, how exciting!

And surrounded by new sights, new sounds, new everything!

She couldn’t wait to begin, and was so excited to be starting with an interview with her Academic Tutor. That sounded so formal, so clever, so university!

Standing outside his office door, she pulled the fronts of her light blue sweater together, making sure the butttons of her neat cream blouse were all properly done up. Smoothing her hands down her slim frame she patted her jeans pockets making sure they were flat and not sticking out. Looking down, her plain black pumps were clean.

Pulling her ponytail to set the scrunchy close to her head again, she knocked.

She wondered what he’d be like. Like a schoolteacher? Like a Doctor? Young? Old? Neat and tidy like her, or absent minded and scruffy?

It was the start of a new academic year, and the university was swarming with enthusiastic young freshers, leaving home for the first time, settling in to their student halls, and finding their way around the campus. It was a pleasant environment, with trees and lawns separating the modern steel and glass buildings. The trees were just turning a fine golden colour in the watery British autumn sunshine.

Charles Dodgeson reluctantly withdrew his gaze from his office window and focused on the day's administrative chores. He'd been a lecturer at the university for about ten years now, and quite enjoyed the job, both the teaching and his research in astrophysics. He looked down at the list of his eight tutorial students that he had to meet individually today. One of the perks of the job was the steady stream of attractive girls, although unfortunately there were not so many hot girls in physics as there were in, say, English literature. Some of the girls flirted with him; he was never quite sure if they really fancied him or were just attracted to him as a figure of authority, but either way, he had taken full advantage of this opportunity when it had arisen. He had to be careful though, as lecturer-student relationships were frowned on by the university.

This morning he'd met three spotty boys, and one girl who had been a disappointment - much too heavy for his tastes. He liked them slim, with small-to-medium sized breasts and slender waists. The only other girl on his list was Andrea Kay, who was due any minute now. He quickly combed his grey-flecked wavy brown hair, and decided not to put his jacket on, preferring the casual open-necked shirt look.

He mentally ran through his check-list of things to say and ask the new student. Welcome. How are you settling in to your Hall accommodation? Is the structure of the course clear to you? Are you prepared to work hard? What hobbies and activities are you into? I'm your tutor - so you can come and see me about academic or personal matters. Tell them to contact me through the university email system. And if she's attractive, try to swap mobile numbers.

There was a timid knock at the door.

"Come in!" he said, and spun his swivel chair towards the door as it opened.

She opened the door just enough and poked her head round, not wanting to intrude without a proper invitation.

"Er, Its Andrea Kay? New student? I think I'm supposed to be your student, Sir?"

Creeping in and closing the door carefully behind her, she stood before him, a pace away from his desk, quickly checking her hair, smoothing her cardigan again, checking her shoes, trying to smile but too nervous to make it genuine.

She was a little scared. What if he didn't like her? What if he didn't approve of girls doing Physics? She needed to make a good impression, and Andrea knew she wasn't exactly doing that.

She cleared her throat, tried to relax, smiled a little goofily, and waited.

He had a really nice office, with a window, a view, and everything. And books. So many books.

Realising she was getting distracted, she snapped her attention back to him.

"Sorry, Sir." Although to her it felt like she'd been in the room for an alge already, it had really only been seconds.

Some of the girls who passed through his hands, as it were, were already sophisticated young women when they arrived at university. Others - and Andrea was very much in this category -arrived as nervous, mousy, virginal little schoolgirls. One of the satifactions of his job was seeing this latter type develop, like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, into confident, attractive, and definitely no longer virginal women. He liked to play a role in this development.

Andrea had pretty dark eyes and hair, and as far as he could tell, hidden away under her awful old-fashioned clothes she had a nice, slender figure. She was going to be an interesting and challenging project.

"Hello, Andrea, and welcome!" he said with a smile, and shook her hand. It was small and very soft. He let his fingers linger on hers slightly longer than was appropriate. "Please sit down. Relax - you look a bit nervous. This isn't an interview you know - you're already in! And none of this 'Sir' nonsense, we're all on first name terms her. Call me Charlie."

He went through his introductory blurb. "I'll be your tutor, both academic and personal. So I'm your first point of contact if you have any difficulties with your work, but also personal issues. So don't be shy, anything you want to discuss, boyfriend issues for example - do you have a boyfriend by the way?" He was pretty sure he knew the answer to that question. "Anything we discuss will be confidential, just between us, Ok?"

Andrea sat quickly in the chair opposite him, knees together, hands folded in her lap, giving him her complete attention now.

His handshake had been nice; not too hard to hurt but firm enough to make her feel comfortable, like she could trust his authority.

She was so glad that he said their conversations were confidential. She'd never had a Personal Tutor before, but it was kind of nice that the University provided one, and it made sense if it was the same as her Academic Tutor. And they could discuss personal issues, which was good, because there was a lot to adjust to.

"I don't have a boyfriend, no Sir ... er Charlie, so you don't need to worry I'll get distracted from studies in that direction!" she giggled nervously, a little embarassed to be discussing her lack of boyfriend with her Tutor. But hey, that's what he was there for, right?

"Its no that I don't, er, well I'm not, oh um, I have had a boyfriend, in school, but not now .." she dried up, having made a complete fool of herself trying to add unneccessary detail to what had probably been just an idle conversational enquiry.

He raised a hand, to stop the poor little thing's burbling. "Sorry, I wasn't meaning to pry." Well, she seemed to be trying to tell him that she wasn't a lezzy, so he wasn't wasting his time, and as he had suspected, did not have a boyfriend. And she was unlikely to get one, in those shapeless jeans and with her child-like ponytail.

"Now, please use your university email address to keep in touch," he said. "But I know you young people these days prefer to use your mobiles, so here's my number, and perhaps I could have yours." He passed her a little slip of paper with his number on it.

"We have a kind of buddy scheme where we put new students in touch with second years," he explained. "Here's Julia's number. She's a nice friendly girl. Give her a call."

He chose Julia because she dressed like a fashion model, or sometimes more like a whore. Tight jeans hugging the curves of her thighs and hips, plunging V-neck tops, and on one occasion he recalled having difficulty concentrating on his lecturing while she sat in the front row in a short skirt, constantly crossing and uncrossing her legs.

"Oh, of course, Sir" she replied, and quickly pulled her mobile phone from her pocket, typing in his number straight away, then sending to it so he had her number, too.

"Oh, and would it help to have my personal email too? Not the university one?" she asked, and simply sent him a second message.

She also typed Julia's number in, but didn't send anything yet, not while she was in the office.

"I think its really great that you're here for me, Sir, er Charlie .. is it really ok to call you that? And can I really talk about anything? You'll tell me if there's personal stuff that's out of bounds?"

Andrea needed to know what not to trouble Charlie with. She hated it when she misunderstood people and they just dismissed her. It would make life so much easier if she had Charlie's approval, if he liked her.

"Yes, anything at all - nothing's out of bounds." He smiled, still trying to get her to relax. "And everything is in confidence," he repeated. It was important to establish that, to keep her mouth shut if, or rather when, things started to get a bit beyond what might be regarded as normal in a student-tutor relationship.

One of Charlie's little fetishes was girls removing articles of clothing for him. It could be anything - even a girl slipping a coat off her shoulders would sometimes get him hard. He kept his office quite warm, to encourage this. He decided to check Andrea's susceptibility to his suggestions. He would start with that awful cardigan. Perhaps it was a present from her grandmother.

"It's quite warm in here," he said. "I wonder if you really need that cardigan on?"

"Oh, this?" plucking open the sides of her cardigan, "yes, ok .. if you really don't mind?"

She added the last bit as a politeness, but basically he'd told her to take it off. He was clearly trying to put her at her ease, so she slipped the garment off her shoulders, pulling her right arm out first, then off the left, turning in her seat to hang it over the chair back.

"Better?" she asked him, and smiled, feeling better herself already.

"I'm really glad nothing is out of bounds, its very reassuring. Oh, and about the confidential thing ... um ... would it be ok if I make up a new email just in case I need to talk to you about stuff I don't want anyone else knowing about?" She was a bit unsure of this, hoping he didn't think her weird. But the university could read all emails on its network, and her mother could read all her private ones.

Charlie was delighted that she responded so promptly and obediently to his suggestion. This was most encouraging. He enjoyed watching as she took the cardigan off in what was (unintentionally) a slow and seductive motion of her arms and shoulders, reducing the number of layers covering her breasts.
"Good... That's a nice blouse," he said. It was just a shame that all the buttons were done up. Hopefully Julia would sort her out in that regard.

"Oh, yes, that's a good idea," he replied. This was also encouraging - she was one step ahead of him with the suggestion of a private email account. He wondered what she meant by stuff she didn't want anyone else to know about. He felt his cock start to thicken as various possibilities came into his dirty mind. "I have a personal email too - if you send something to my uni email I'll reply with my private one." To be on the safe side, he didn't use his university email account for intimate personal messages to his female students.

There was a knock at the door. Bother.

"Oh, that will be my next student. Anyway, nice to have met you Andrea - see you again this time next week, but feel free to get in touch before then if you wish."

He ushered her to the door, allowing his hand to brush lightly against her back as he did so.

Just as he was ushering her to the door, Andrea turned and thanked him, and promised to send him her new email account. The feel of his hand on her back was comforting, reassuring.

She felt a little deflated on leaving. It had all been so quick, she hardly had time to get to know him, or him her.

If she wanted him to remember her, to warm to her, she'd better get that email account set up right away.

Making straight for the cafeteria she found a quiet spot and used her mobile phone to create an email on one of the free services. There weren't any user names that resembled her own, and not wanting lots of number in the suffix she ended up choosing 'andreabunny999' since she liked rabbits.

Again, avoiding the university system so they didn't have her new email, she texted the full address to charlie's phone, with an apology for the little-girl sounding user name. She added how much she liked meeting him, and would be there on time next week, ready for tutoring.

That shoud do it. Getting up, she realised she'd left her cardigan in his office. Damn!

Charlie got rid of the other new students as quickly as he could, without being too rude to them.
When he was free of them, he checked his email and phone. Andrea had set up a new email account but had sent it to him in a text message. Clever girl. Hmm, andreabunny999. He wondered if she owned a Rabbit.

She had left that cardigan behind. Presumably that was by accident, as he had bundled her out when the next student turned up. Or could it perhaps have been deliberate? He picked it up and held it up to his face, breathing in the girl's aroma.

He fired off a quick text, trying to sound like a youngster.
"Hi A, U left ur cardy. I'm here til about 6 tonite. C"

Then he started composing an email to put his next plan into action.

A text?

Andrea checked her phone .. it was Charlie! Her tutor! Yay!

At first her heart leapt, thinking he'd remembered her, that she'd made an impression, a good one, and she was all excited, wanting to spend more time in that opening interview, to find out what he'd be like to her, whether he got cross when she got things wrong. Would he help her prepare her revision timetable? Her homework timetable? Would he answer all the questions she'd have when she didn't understand something in lectures?

But it was only her cardigan that made the impression. The cardigan she obviously shouldn't have worn; Andrea had a feeling that Charlie Sir didn't like it. She'd collect it, but not wear it to tutorials again. If only she could go shopping for nice clothes, but she was a little short of cash, and needed to find a part time job. She'd ask Charlie Sir. After all, nothing was off limits.

She should be able to go get it in about ten minutes, after she finished the snack she was having in Hall, so she texted back to say when she'd be over.

Only slightly late, she knocked breathlessly on his door.

"Charlie, Sir? Its Andrea? The one who left her cardigan behind?"

"Hi Andrea, come in! You know, you really must stop calling me 'Sir'," he teased. His eyes ran down to her chest, which was heaving up and down invitingly. She seemed a bit breathless, as if she'd been rushing to get there on time before he left. Unfortunately her blouse was still fully buttoned up. Also, he couldn't get much of a sense of what her tits were like as she appeared to be wearing an unnecessarily substantial bra. He had to get rid of that.

"Are you a bit out of breath? Feel free to undo a couple of buttons on your blouse if that would make you more comfortable," he suggested.

"I have to go in a minute, but do you have time for a quick drink?" Again it was a question, but he phrased it more as a statement as he poured a glass of whisky and put it in her hand, and then poured one for himself. He wanted to get her used to accepting drinks from him, and see what effect alcohol had on her. He really needed to get her to loosen up.

She seemed to want to talk about work, but heck, it was gone six and they were drinking Scotch, so he steered the conversation round to hobbies and interests, to find out what she was into.

Then he hit the send button on the email he'd composed, so she would get it later.

From: dodgy_charlie
To: andreabunny999

Hi Andrea,
Can you pass the pencil test?
I hope to find out next time I see you.
Charlie
xx

At least he was still friendly and kind to her, even if her cardigan had made more of an impression than she had. On the other hand, at least the cardigan meant that he remembered her, so that couldn't be a bad thing.

"Feel free to undo a couple of buttons on your blouse if that would make you more comfortable"

She quickly did as he said, literally. Undoing precisely two buttons, which still left her decently done up. Note to self: no cardigans, top two buttons undone.

The whiskey was very strong, but she quite liked it. It had a nice kind of smoky warm taste that was like heating down the throat and chest, and then went a bit whoosh in her head, but it was a nice feeling and she soon found herself gushing about learning Physics from men like him.

She wasn't sure how but soon they were talking hobbies and stuff, and she told him about being on her school swimming team, and playing the clarinet, and reading, and,

"Oh, I need a part time job? Any ideas where I should start looking?" she asked as she downed the last of her whiskey and handed the glass back, grinning happily with no idea of the time.

Things were going very well. Andrea had immediately undone those buttons, giving him a nice view of her smooth white skin. She had accepted the drink without question and it had gone quickly to her head. Tempted though he was to top up her glass and see how much further he could get with her, he didn't want to push his luck on the first day they'd met.

Besides, he really did have to go. He was supposed to be meeting Rachel at the restaurant at 7:30 and he was already going to be a bit late. If he was too late, she'd be annoyed with him and his chance of getting a shag tonight would shrink to virtually zero.

He wasn't going to explain any of this to Andrea of course. But he did feel he needed to warn her about the part-tine job thing.

"Ah, yes, the part-time job question. I do appreciate the difficulties students have these days with their finances. But I'm afraid I must warn you of the dangers of getting a part-time job. I have seen too many cases of students who've done this and it's taken too much time and energy from their studies. Many have ended up failing their degree because of it. But leave it with me - maybe we can work out a solution."

"Now I really must go, sorry." He guided her out of the door again, this time letting his hand fall slightly lower, wondering what was hidden under those shapeless jeans.

Making her way back to her room, she enjoyed the feel of the cool autumn air on her throat and in the gap where her two buttons were still undone. She sang and giggled at what a great day she was having, and as she shivered in a sudden cold draught of wind, realised she still didn't have her cardigan!

Damn, she'd just have to message Charlie tomorrow and ask when she could pick it up. She had been hussled out the door again, and again had enjoyed the comforting feel of his hand on her back, except he can't have realised that he'd slipped down to the base of her spine rather than her back. But his touch was still reassuring.

And he'd promised to help her with the part-time job situation; she'd been right to bring it up. She really could ask him about anything.

Once back in her room she flopped in her chair, pulling her phone from her jeans.

Email?

From: dodgy_charlie
To: andreabunny999

Hi Andrea,
Can you pass the pencil test?
I hope to find out next time I see you.
Charlie
xx

Pencil test? Damn, did she need to do some revision for another University exam, one answered in pencil?

Opening her laptop she checked the university website for 'pencil test' but found nothing. Maybe it was the informal name?

So she tried the internet and Bam!

A pencil is placed in the inframammary fold, between the breast and chest. If the pencil does not fall, the woman has "failed the pencil test" and needs to wear a bra. The supposition is that breasts that are not pendulous are self-supporting and do not need the added support of a bra Wiki

Could he mean that? Surely not! That wasn't possible, not from her Academic Tutor! But from her Personal Tutor?

However, she was intrigued. Andrea knew she had a lot of growing up to do. She wasn't a child anymore. Should she try it?

Giggling, she slipped out of her blouse and bra, leaving them in a pile next to her desk chair, and took a pencil from her pen pot.

Yep, on the floor. She tried again, leaning forward. Nope, it still ended up on the floor.

Laughing at herself, she sent a reply:

From: andreabunny999
To: dodgy_charlie

Hi Charlie

I did the test and passed, every time.

Andrea xx

Then as an afterthought she pasted the Wiki definition at the end and pressed SEND. She was still too light headed to think it all through.

His date with Rachel didn't go very well, partly because he had annoyed her by turning up late and smelling of whisky, but also because he was thinking about his new student Andrea most of the time, wondering if he should have sent that cheeky email about the pencil test or not. How would she respond? Would she complain? So he wasn't listening properly to what Rachel was saying, which irritated her further. Half-heartedly he invited her back to his place after the meal, but wasn't at all surprised when she turned him down.

So he went to bed, sozzled with whisky and wine, with nothing but his right hand for company. Checking his phone for his emails provided him with some relief, in both senses of the word. She had followed his instructions again and even returned his kisses. He lay back on his bed, and closed his eyes, thinking of the pencil falling from Andrea's firm young tits, what they would feel like in his hands... Mmm, that did the trick.

Afterwards, with slightly sticky fingers he sent a quick reply:
'Excellent. I look forward to seeing your new look. C. xx'

Andrea was already asleep in bed when her phone pinged the email alert.

It was quite a deep sleep, involving dreams of drinking whiskey with Charlie in his office, of him suggesting she was too warm in her cardigan and her taking it off, of him suggesting she'd be more comfortable with a couple of buttons undone and her undoing them, of him holding up a screen asking if she could pass the pencil test and her taking off her blouse and bra right there in front of him and trying vainly to hold a pencil under each breast. And then of another email appearing on the screen he was holding, but she couldn't see it, it just wouldn't appear ... but she needed to know if he'd replied to her ...

Which pulled her from her sleep to groggily check her phone.

Email.

EMAIL! On their private account!

Sitting up in bed she opened it. It was very short.

'Excellent. I look forward to seeing your new look. C. xx'

She liked the 'excellent', but what did the next bit mean?

She reread what she'd last sent, and his message that started it.

Did he mean what she thought?

She sent back,

' can I come get my cardi tomorrow? if so, when? A. xx' SEND

Andrea knew she wanted to leave the cardi behind again. It was too useful an excuse to visit him.

Note to self: no cardi, two buttons undone, no bra?

With that to think on, she lay back down wondering if she'd fall asleep or if he'd reply, even though it was late.

Charlie got up slowly with a bit of a hangover and made himself some coffee. He checked his email as he drank it down with a chunk of bread - he couldn't be bothered to make toast.

Ha! She'd sent another email in the middle of the night. Kids these days and their mobiles. Well, it was good that she already seemed to be getting a bit obsessed with him. That blasted cardigan again. She had 'forgotten' it again. Clearly she was using it as an excuse. Or, hang on, was it he who had 'forgotten' to give it back to her and was getting obsessed with her? He decided to send a slightly more formal email and remind her about her work.

'Morning Andrea. I will be free in my office at 3 today if you'd like to drop in to collect that item. How are you getting on with the Newtonian Mechanics problems about forces, planetary motion and equations of motion? Perhaps we could discuss your progress with this.'

He hoped she would take the not-so-subtle hint about ditching her bra...

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

"Bugger!" she muttered as she silenced the alarm on her phone.

Andrea hadn't slept well. She'd been waiting for her email alert to sound, and of course it never did. What a stupid girl, she thought to herself. Its only her cardigan and his politeness that was making him see her so often.

On the other hand, that email about the pencil test? Then she remembered the reply she'd sent. A blush crept up her neck just thinking about it. How could she be so brazen? It must have been the whiskey, loosening up her normal reserve. Well, he hadn't been offended, he'd replied excellent. But that still left her with the decision about how to follow up.

She remembered her Note to Self of last night. The first was easy. Her cardigan was still in his office. The second depended on whether she wore a button front or not; maybe she should, just to show that she was still following his guidance. If he remembered that he'd offered it. He probably would only remember her as the student who forgot her cardigan, repeatedly.

Then again, he offered to help her with her part time job problem, to avoid her getting distracted from her studies, which weren't going that well. The pre-course assignment on mechanics was much harder than it looked, and would suit a mathematician better.

She showered and dressed, and went down to breakfast in Hall, and was just starting on a bowl of cereal when her email alert pinged again. She's set an individual tone for their special emails, and knew instantly that it was from Charlie.

Yikes! He wanted to know her progress on the mechanics! Oh dear, she'd better do some more work on it between today's lectures.

Andrea emailed a quick reply, 'I'll be there at 3 Sir, and bring what I've managed so far on the problem sheets'

No xx this time, no friendly adult banter. She didn't know what to make of it. Had he tired of her? Was she just becoming hard work, with the cardi and part time job stuff? Was he bored with her already?

More than a little disappointed she went back to her room, finished getting ready, and headed in to lectures with a large satchel of work.

From: dodgy_charlie
To: andreabunny999
Subject: heavenly bodies
Great. See you at 3. I am eager to see what you have to show me


He sent off his message with its little double entendre and tried to get on with his morning's tedious administrative emails and paperwork. But it was difficult to concentrate. His mind kept filling with images of Andrea leaning forward over her problem sheets, giving him a view into her braless cleavage as her top fell forward, or perhaps, if she was wearing something tighter, her pointy young nipples pushing against a thin layer of fabric...

The day seemed to go incredibly slowly, but eventually the clock reached 3. There was a knock at the door - more confident this time.

"Come in," he said, his mouth watering and cock thickening in anticipation.

She had just finished a lecture on Differential Calculus and was in the library surrounded by her problem sheets and text books with answers to their questions, books on Mechanics, Newtonian Mechanics. She wasn't a mathematician! Why did they have to put in so many equations? Couldn't they just tell it like a story? And why Differential? How many Calculuses were there?

However she was just getting to grips with one of the more difficult questions, having found an almost identical version in a book, when her special alert sounded.

With a little trepidation this time, she opened the email.

She scanned it, sighed with relief, and read it again.

The heavenly bodies made her smile. The adult banter was back, thank goodness. He mustn't be too cross with her, then. And he said Great! And he was eager to see her! Well, see what she had to show him ... might that not be problem sheets? Was he hinting back to the pencil test?

That made her think .. it was still a dilemma.

Still no xx, but she did get a smiley face.

By the time 2.30 came round, she'd cribbed enough answers to make a good showing, but without the text books she'd be hard pressed to explain her answers. Putting the last book back, she stood up and packed her satchel with her papers and notepad, having delayed her decision as long as she could.

Damn it! She had already undone the top two buttons on her baggy white cotton shirt, and wasn't wearing a cardigan, or any sweater. Damn it! Checking no-one was around in her section of the library, she untucked her shirt, reached under to unsnap her bra and pull it through her sleeves, and dropped it into her satchel before tucking herself in again.

There, damn it, she'd done it. She knew that the bra had been faintly visible through the shirt where they touched, so maybe it would be obvious that she wasn't wearing one now? While thinking, she became aware of a little glow in her tummy ... at being bra-less, at removing her bra ... in the library. There was something a bit sexy about it. And she liked it. And no-one would ever know.

At 3 she knocked on the door, a little chilled from her walk over in the cool air. She did have only a shirt on her top half, and her nipples had contracted to pencil erasers.

At his invitation she opened the door and stepped in, satchel on her right hip with the strap over her left shoulder separating her breasts and unintentionally pulling the cotton tight against them, her top two buttons clearly undone.

"Hi Sir, er Charlie, its Andrea? You said I could come by at 3?"

Wow. His jaw dropped as she came in. A strap around her shoulder came down and across between her breasts, separating them nicely and pulling her thin cotton top back against them. They were perfect, just the type he liked, not large but perfectly rounded, symmetrical and upright, apparently contradicting Newton's laws of gravity. Her nipples were centred, prominent and sharp, perhaps from sexual arousal or, more likely, as a result of the cold autumn air caressing them as she had walked across the campus.

"Andrea, you're kooking very nice today," he stammered, "have a seat." He pointed at the chair opposite him across his desk.

"So let's see how you got on with those problems," he said. She eased the satchell strap off, her shoulders and breasts rolling beautifully as she did so, and got out her work. He placed it on the desk between them, a tactic he often used with his female students. He was good at reading upside down. They both leant forward over it to read it, so their heads were quite close.

"OK, that looks good," he said, "could you explain to me what you are doing here?"

As she discussed her work, her loose top fell forward slightly, and his eyes were drawn in to the gorgeous sight visible through the top two open buttons. He gazed at her lovely creamy skin and her soft, gentle curves, the U-shaped cleavage and the swelling breasts that rose and fell slightly as he spoke. Once or twice she looked up at him for approval; he didn't think that she had noticed him staring down into her shirt.

"Mmm," he said. It was actually a moan at the sight of her tits; but he managed to turn it into an approval of her work. "Yes, that's right. Good." There were a couple of things she hadn't quite understood, so he explained these and then got up to draw some diagrams and graphs on the whiteboard. He had forgotten that he was at least half erect, but hoped that she hadn't noticed anything. Her eyes ought to be on the board, not on his trousers.

When they had finished discussing her work, he brought up the question of her finances again.

"As I said, I really would discourage you from getting a job waitressong or something. They will pay you very little and work you very hard and it would have an impact on your studies. Look, here's a little something to keep you going ."

He stuffed a little bundle of notes into her pocket, taking the opportunity to feel her thigh.

He stood back and looked at her. "Would you mind undoing your ponytail and letting your hair fall loose? You're a very pretty girl. Have you ever thought of modelling?"

If he called her very pretty, of course she didn't mind shaking her hair loose!

Andrea immediately pulled her scrunchy from her ponytail, shaking her hair loose and running her fingers through it.

"Modelling? Course I haven't," stunned and flattered that he might think she had any modelling potential, or looks.

She felt the bundle of notes in her pocket and felt a little guilty that she'd ever doubted his concern for her welfare. But she'd need to earn the money somehow to pay him back, and if he thought she could model ...

It had been a good Tutor session. He'd said she looked very nice. Her work in the library had paid off, and he'd explained a few things that helped her understanding; and he was really good at the maths!

Note to self: don't wear sweaters, wear button front blouse with two undone, no bra, hair loose.

She stood up from his desk and turned a little to her right and left.

"Do you think I could actually earn any money modelling? I mean, I'll pay you back for the loan as soon as I'm earning, and if you think modelling would be more suitable than waitressing?"

He had seemed serious when he suggested it, and the more she repeated the word, the more realistic modelling seemed to her, though she wasn't as confident as he was, it seemed.