Chapter 1

From the perspective of three women who explore love, lust, and the depths of their hearts. From the office to the classroom, to the church of pussy.

There are few things in this world that are perfect. I’m sitting in my office looking at a self-portrait photograph of Kate naked, wearing white stockings. In the photograph, she’s in a bedroom laying on the floor, but her legs are propped on the bed. Her hair is splayed across the carpet. Her body is slender, nipples pink, and there’s a patch of pubic hair that needs to be trimmed.

The other photo shows Kate sitting naked in a kitchen, barefoot with her hair tied in a bun, while reading a book. One leg is crossed and the sun shines down on her.

Perfect self-photographs, I think to myself. A faculty member found these pictures on the desk of Professor Behzadi, hidden beneath a stack of books, and brought the pictures to me.

Kate sits in my office, a stark contrast to her nude photographs. She’s a buttoned-down girl who looks sharp in her academic uniform. Her transcript is on my desk and I’m impressed by her grades and extracurricular achievements. Not quite top of her class, but close. Nonetheless a hard and disciplined worker.

“My intention is to avoid a public scandal,” I say. “A scandal would tarnish the stellar reputation of this institution. So let’s go over this. Then I’ll decide how to proceed.”

“Am I going to be expelled?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. If I follow protocol, then yes, expulsion proceedings will begin. We have a strict policy against moral transgressions. But perhaps we can avoid that and handle this situation discreetly.”

She keeps a straight face. “Thank you.”

“Were you coerced in any form? Something like that would help your case.”

“No,” she says. “Whatever you decide, do not blame Professor Behzadi for anything. This was entirely my fault. I swear.”

“Kate, please understand, Professor Behzadi’s tenure will be terminated either way. I’m trying to help you. Or would you rather your parents find out?”

These words sting her, but she tries not to flinch. Most students would be on the verge of a breakdown, but Kate is stronger than the delicate flower she appears to be. It’s rare to find a student that’s both academically gifted and mentally tough in the face of ruin.

I also have to admire Kate for protecting her teacher. Most students fold and say whatever necessary to survive in my office. This private university has great prestige. No one wants to leave. No one wants to disappoint their parents.

“Do not blame Professor Behzadi,” she says.

“If you agree that she coerced you, then we can skip a hearing. I can talk to her, she can resign with dignity and avoid public shame.”

Kate shakes her head. “No, I won’t do that. Because it’s not true.”

The reality is, I have little interest in expelling the student and firing Professor Behzadi because both situations require due process. Being a religious institution, having a sex scandal would likely make national headlines. Enrollment and fundraising would take a massive hit.

Kate is a smart girl, she probably knows this.

I switch strategy and open her file.

“Okay, fine,” I say. “We’ll go over things point by point. First, I want clarity on the main controversy. Are you in a sexual relationship with Professor Behzadi?”

Kate pauses for a moment. “Will my answer be used against us?”

“Great question. How about this; everything discussed in my office will remain confidential. I won’t repeat this to anyone. I won’t use it against either of you in a potential hearing. I’m just trying to find a diplomatic solution. Sound good?”

“Now let me repeat,” I say. “Are you in a sexual relationship with Professor Behzadi?”

I’m gobsmacked by her admission because I wasn’t fully sure if this was the case. What makes this shocking is that Kate is such a pure-hearted young woman with a wholesome demeanor and booksmart sensibilities. Of course, young women have a strong interest in sex (as with anyone else), but for her to admit doing this with her professor is jarring.

Professor Behzadi, on the other hand, is a world history connoisseur who routinely gives paid lectures around the globe and even does media appearances. A few weeks ago she filmed a segment for a documentary that will air on a streaming service.

“How did things become sexual?” I ask.

“Can you elaborate?”

“That depends,” she says. “Am I allowed to be explicit? That’s the only way I can truly explain myself and everything that’s happened.”

“This is your secret forum. Say whatever you feel.”

“I appreciate that. If I’m allowed to say whatever I feel, then I’ll be honest. My sexuality has always been different. I’m more attracted to a person than any particular gender. When I first met Professor Behzadi and watched her give a lecture, I was immediately attracted to her, but I didn’t know why. It was also the subject matter of ancient religions and spirituality. I discovered that intelligence is my preferred sexual interest.”

“At what point did Professor Behzadi become aware of your salacious feelings?”

“Towards the end of the semester,” she replies. “Every so often, I would walk by her office when I had extra time. She was either busy or I was too intimidated to speak with her. One day, her door was open and I noticed that she was sitting behind her desk doing work. I entered and introduced myself, which was clumsy because she already knew who I was. We’d spoken in class plenty of times.

She continues, “I wanted to talk privately because I was thinking of switching majors. Maybe do something with history. I considered becoming a historian or a teacher like her. I also considered joining the master’s program eventually; she runs that department. When I told her, she seemed receptive to my thoughts and we had a long conversation.

She continues, “Basically the professor wanted to see if my heart was in the right place because this kind of major isn’t for everyone. A week later, Professor Behzadi emailed me and asked if I’d be interested in enrolling in her new course Religion, Symbolism & Sexuality.”

“That’s the course you’re currently enrolled in, correct?” I ask.

“Tell me how things became intimate. It’s the most important part.”

“It happened a few months ago,” she says. “Have you ever seen the bookshelf in Professor Behzadi’s office?”

“I’ve seen it, sure, but I’ve never bothered to look at the books.”

“Her bookshelf is like the Holy Grail of interesting text. I’m floored every time I see them. Anyway, we were having a conversation by the bookshelf and she was showing me something. She held a book open and gave me a private lecture. I was standing so close to her, admiring her long dark hair, the color of her skin, her eyes and voice. I was so mesmerized that I kissed her on the cheek. I knew it was inappropriate, but it was like an outer body experience. I just did it. I couldn’t help myself.”

“How did she react?”

“In typical fashion. Her face was blank. It was like the kiss never happened. But I could see something in her eyes. They were so piercing, like always, but there was something else. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to throw me out of her office, or kiss me on the lips.”

“Well, things obviously escalated if she has intimate pictures of you.”

“I won’t drag this out any longer. My goal isn’t to make you uncomfortable. But I do have other questions.”

I tap the pictures on the table. “Why did you take these pictures and send them to your professor?”

“I wanted her to have pics of me. The poses are inspired by images in her text books, which I found to be erotic. So it was like an exchange. She gave me her knowledge, and I gave her body in return.”

“Did the professor ever solicit these types of photos from you?”

“No, they were always my idea.”

“What did Professor Behzadi say upon receiving the images?

“But she kept them.”

Kate nods. “The professor doesn’t show a lot of emotion, but I’ve always known deep down that she appreciates the photos I send her.”

“Do you mind if I ask more personal questions?”

“Were you ever undressed in her office? Or anywhere on campus grounds?”

“Tell me about that. Give me a sense of what happened.”

She takes a deep breath. “I masturbate in the teacher’s office sometimes when she isn’t around. Like when I’d wait while she’s talking to another professor somewhere, I’d get bored — aroused is a better word — and I’d close the door and do it.”

“Did the professor ever find out?”

“I told her eventually. That’s how it all started with the pictures and everything. I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m naive, that the professor has taken advantage of me. That’s the furthest thing from the truth. I’m a young adult and I’ve made my decision.”

“Excuse me if this is too personal, but it sounds like you have feelings for her.”

“I think I’ve been clear. Put that in your report, if it comes to that.”

There’s a look of quiet defiance in her eyes, like any expulsion act against her, or disciplinary act against the professor will be met with fierce resistance. I’m disappointed in Kate and Professor Behzadi for engaging in such lewd activities with each other, especially on campus grounds.

At the same time, I find myself being sympathetic toward them. I understand Kate’s lust for her alluring and esteemed professor. And I understand the professor’s interest in Kate, a youthful spirit. If I’m being honest, for the first time since learning of this tryst, I’m aroused in a way that I haven’t been in years.

I’m silent for a moment. Kate is looking at me. I wonder what she’s thinking, what’s truly on her mind, and I wonder if she notices that I haven’t had sex in a really long time. I’m supposed to be judging her, but I can feel Kate’s eyes assessing me.

Professor Behzadi’s Classroom & Office

The student in the fourth row crosses and uncrosses her legs. She doesn’t wear any panties and this makes her stand out in the lecture hall of over 100 students. It’s been this way for almost two months. I look, of course, but I don’t give her the satisfaction that she wants.

Kate expects me to blush, to get flustered, to stammer my words as I give a lecture on the artwork of ancient Greece, but that won’t happen. She won’t win. She never does. I’ll admit, however, that the whiteness of her thighs and pinkness of her lips will always and forever grab my attention.

I know for a fact that Kate removes her panties before coming to class, then afterward she returns to the bathroom to put her panties back on.

A teacher represents the purity of an adult. That’s what I was taught decades ago, when I was a young woman pursuing a master’s degree, with hopes of someday becoming an educator. My career is a privilege and these students are America’s future leaders.

Now here I am, enjoying the view being offered to me by a young white girl. Our supposed secret. The truth is that we’ve been playing this game for a while. She’s become the absolute center of my sexual life, but that’s not something she’d ever know.

I finish the lecture, in between taking glances of her naked crotch, and I dismiss the students at the top of the hour. Most students ignore me and leave, others nod and say, ‘see you next time,’ and a few have questions that I’m happy to indulge. After that I leave and have a short conversation with a faculty member in the courtyard.