Daddy’s Naughty Little Lesson by Penny Snoak

CHAPTER FOUR

Nigel

The faculty’s ethics professor likes to dress up in latex and have his balls tortured, so he’s always been a safe bet for a non-judgmental listening ear. I meet him for a drink in his office after work.

To be clear, I don’t know how I know this about him. I cannot recall acquiring the information, but it’s the nature of my relationship with Jeremy. Over the years, we’ve gotten to know each other, primarily by being colleagues in neighboring departments and by drinking and talking in his office on the weekends.

He sits behind his desk, and I sit at a chair in front of it. We’ve been talking for a while before I bring up Megan and my theory about her. Jeremy, naturally, has an opinion. Jeremy almost always does.

“If you’re asking me if this is ethical, the answer is no, clearly not. If you’re asking me if you should do it? Hell yeah, man. You’re both rational, consenting adults, and if she’s gotten this far in post-secondary education, then it’s not like she doesn’t know what the risks are. It sounds like she’s just hot for teacher.”

The libations I’ve supplied for this evening are a single malt Scotch, and I tilt my glass in a slow circle, watching the way it follows the clean line of the outer edge, appreciating the play of light and color through the fluid as it moves in the glass. I should reevaluate my earlier statement: one also learns a lot about one’s morals interacting with Jeremy. Particularly about their hard limits.

“I do need to be clear. I have no concrete evidence about her reasons for joining my class, other than my suspicions and what I’ve learned about her. My class is not the class for an easy English credit. I’m the professor for an easy English credit. There’s a difference.”

“Mhmm. And I’m saying I think you need to give her credit for knowing what it is. This isn’t your first rodeo, Nige.”

“Might be hers, though.”

Jeremy scoffs at me. “You’ve got to ease into it, then. Get excited about being her first experience. You get to be the one to set the standard. You’re laying the foundation for a sexual fantasy that will stay with her. One day she’s going tell her grandkids about how she fucked her professor for an English credit..”

“That’s repulsive.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll probably be dead by then.”

It’s strange the sorts of things that Jeremy thinks are comforting. But then, he’s got a relatively skewed sense of morality. He’s rock-solid on ethics. He knows what we have collectively agreed as a society to consider right and wrong. Morally, though, he’s the grayest individual I think I’ve ever met, and I probably shouldn’t be surprised when he polishes off his drink and asks, “Are you going to give her credit?”

The question throws me off. “I feel as though I’m probably obligated, aren’t I?”

Jeremy reaches for the bottle and pours himself another drink, humming thoughtfully as he does. “Now, there’s where this whole question gets a little thorny. The whole exchange of credit-for-sex is implied but isn’t asked for explicitly. And in theory, this whole thing doesn’t cross into unethical territory until that exchange takes place. There’s nothing strictly wrong with a teacher-student relationship, as long as both parties are consenting adults. It’s maybe a little abusive of authority, but as long as there’s no external benefit to either party by it--it’s not like you’re doing anything wrong.”

I freeze with my drink halfway to my lips, staring at him. It’s hard to believe that for the first time in my years of doing this, this is the first time I’ve realized that I’ve always fulfilled an expectation, never an explicit request. Casting my mind back over the encounters I’ve had of this nature and the ongoing relationships that have resulted, I’ve always allowed it to be a quid-pro-quo sort of arrangement. It’s never occurred to me not to give them something they haven’t asked me for.

Across the desk, Jeremy watches as this revelation unfolds for me and grins as he lifts his drink in a toast. “All this, and you haven’t even told me anything about her.”

“There’s not much to tell,” I admit, having had her in my class for one day.“She’s twenty-two. Pretty enough. Babyface, brunette, small. I couldn’t tell much about her body from how she dressed for class, but when I looked her up online, she looks like she’s got enough to hold onto. Has had girlfriends and boyfriends, doesn’t seem to commit too hard or for too long.”

“Seems to track with the general sense of academic disinterest.”

“She doesn’t seem the collegiate type. Not an enthusiastic participant in classes and seems to resent the professor’s presence.”

“Mmm, problems with authority. Always intriguing.”

Jeremy knows me too well by now for me not to just admit it. “You know my favorite flavor. Her parents seem like the type who would’ve pushed her here.”

“Her entire academic career by this point seems calculated to spite them for it.”

Jeremy nods sagely. “You realize that whatever she’s doing with you is more than likely a component of that whole mess.”

“Sounds like she’s gonna be a bit of a brat.”

“I’m counting on it.