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But now, I was failing his class. The only choice I have is to go talk to him. I hoped he would let me do something to raise my grade. What was the worst thing he could do to me? I'm already failing, you can't do worse than flunk. I'd screwed around and now the deadline had passed to drop the class.

I stood outside the professor's office and remembered another weird thing. None of the other people shut their doors during their office hours, but Davidson did. The whole thing just creeped me out.

I reached up to knock softly on the door.

"Hang on. Give me a minute."

Shuffling, clicking and a couple of chimes came through the door. It took him a solid minute or two to finally open the door. What the hell?

The door opened a large crack, and an eye glared through at me from the dim room. "Yes? What do you need?"

"I'm Nathan Jensen. I'm in your beginning chemistry class. I had some problems with the midterm and came to talk to you."

Another awkward pause, then the door opened further. Davidson held it and motioned me inside. My eyes adjusted to the gloom as he made his way back to the desk and sat down. His eyes were partially lit from the computer screen as he typed in a few bursts. I used his diverted attention as an opportunity to look around the room.

Nothing unusual. Pictures of a woman and smiling kids, probably his family. A couple of bookshelves filled to bursting. The odd certificate or award on the wall. Nothing to trigger the level of unease knotting my stomach. His desk was clean, none of the usual piles of ungraded papers, mail and other debris faculty allowed to accumulate. Not on his. All he had was a large calendar with items printed over in tiny handwriting dominated his desk, a pencil holder perfectly filled with what I was sure were needle sharp pencils, and another photo of the typical American family.

"Yes, I can see we do need to talk."

I snapped back to the present, and the little smirk of a smile he was wearing now. His fingers steepled in front of him as he studied me. This time his stare really was creeping me out. Finally his eyes met mine. "So, Mr. Jensen. It's going to be very difficult for you to pass this course. What were you looking to accomplish in speaking with me?"

My mouth went dry. What did I want?

"Extra credit." I squeaked out.

The smirk on his face grew, and then his eyes definitely raked up and down my body, pausing at my crotch for several moments. A cold chill went through me, my cock shriveled like a raisin at the thought of him touching me again. This time his eyes never met mine, they just evaluated me like I was a piece of meat.

"What, exactly, were you hoping to do for 'extra credit'?" he asked. The emphasis he put on the words 'extra credit' made the direction of the conversation obvious.

I stumbled to propose something. Anything other than what was becoming obvious he wanted. "A paper maybe? Yeah, an extra credit paper. I could write you a paper, ten pages? Or even fifteen?" A plan. I was relieved to have come up with something.

I watched as he stood, walked to my side of the desk and leaned back against it. The smirk never left his face as he moved far too close. His crotch was directly across from me and panic rushed through my system. Oh my God, he's propositioning me!

Without breaking eye contact, he slid his hand up his leg and grabbed his crotch and started groping himself. We sat in silence for several minutes his he played with an obviously hardening cock. He stroked it through his loose cords when he spoke again. "Do you have any other ways that you can think of to earn extra credit, Mr. Jensen?"

Panic flared through my whole body. I just wanted out of his office, screw the grade. This guy wanted to trade sex. Holy shit, I can't believe this is happening to me.

I grabbed my backpack and lurched from the chair, almost touching his leg as I fled. I tried to move as if a sexual predator hadn't trapped me. I opened the door, paused for a second and managed to rattle off, "Thanks for your time. I'll think about what I could do."

With that

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