It was just over two years ago when two of my wide eyed freshman came running into my office, very excited about trying to secure an off campus, college owned house, for a club they were starting. Why were they in my office, you ask? They needed a sap, that’s why! And I walked right into their trap. They pleaded their case for me to sign on as advisor and promised I wouldn’t even need to ever show….
“Professor Montgomery, we really want a place to hang and discuss philosophy. We figured that you’d, you know, be happy to support us” said Julia, innocent in her freshman youth (or so I thought). I figured it couldn’t do much harm and signed off on the paperwork. Truthfully, it was the last I really thought about it and true to our agreement, I never stepped foot in any meeting or in the house.
Jolted from my memory of that day, I zeroed back in on Miss Hannah Davies and her sour expression as she looked disapprovingly at me over her black rimmed glasses. I almost laughed (and would have if I didn’t fear her), but instead, just took a moment to wonder if she actually had to try had at being so stuffy or if it came naturally to her. Miss Davies was a member of the English department and if rumors were to be believed, in line to be the youngest department chair next year. At 33, she looked and dressed closer to 45, was well liked by the administrative staff and for the most part, well hated by everyone else.
“Dr. Montgomery as I was saying what do you plan to do about this club of yours? You’ve heard the rumors and clearly you must have no control over what goes on in that house, so am I to assume you’re going to put a stop to it?”
Crossing my leg and trying to look puzzled, I replied “What on earth am I to put a stop to; a student club gathering to study and discuss lessons?”
I might have taken a moment to think about how distinctly elegant her emerald green eyes were, had they not been shooting daggers at me. “You know exactly what I’m talking about” started her lengthy diatribe. She went on to explain about the “troubling” rumors that “my” club had turned into a sex driven play house that should be shut down immediately. Okay, so I had heard the rumors and yes, it seems, if true, that my innocent little Julia and her friend Alex were not so innocent and had found a way to use school support and funding for their safe haven for sex. I honestly didn’t think the rumors had much weight, mainly because many of my students, prudent to the point of putting Miss Davies to shame, were part of the society.
“Okay” I replied, “I will bring the club president in and have a talk with her. I’ll see what really happens at the meeting and we can meet in a couple days to decide what to do. If, as you suggest, anything less than prudent is going on, we can figure out what to do. Would that be satisfactory?”
With a “hmph” and a nod, Hannah, sorry, Ms. Davies left with a flourish of her long black dress, heels clicking down the hallway as she left. Jumping on the computer, I logged into our student registration database and pulled down contact info for Julia. She answered on the second ring and was more than happy to come down to see me. It was later in the afternoon and I was planning on leaving for the night, but I also knew Hannah could blow this entire thing out of proportion if she were to get hasty, so I figured it best to speak with Julia as soon as possible.
Fifteen minutes later, I looked up from the computer after a quiet knock on the wall. “Hey Professor, you wanted to see me” she asked with a voice that either screamed innocence or master of trickery. “Julia, please close the door and have a seat” I said, motioning a hand to the chair next to the desk. As she got settled in my worn, leather armchair next to and slightly across from my desk, I took a moment to actually notice Julia. She’s been in a class or two of mine each year, given that she was a philosophy major, but to be honest, I never gave her much notice.
Whether it be the talk of sex or just me having been pretty lonely as of late, I couldn’t help but notice her brunette hair, tightly wrapped in a bun, accenting a very well-toned, athletic body. It helped that she seemed to be all about the current trend of wearing the blue-green plaid skirt and white blouse. I could clearly see the outline of her rather nice, black lace bra under the blouse. Like many her age that had the goods to flaunt, she was letting the cleavage show. It was still early fall and not too cool as of yet, so Julia had completed the ensemble with black, thigh length stockings and a modest pair of black flats.
As she sat across from me, I was happy at my decision, months earlier, to re-arrange my office into a more “personal” atmosphere, rather than the traditional desk separating student and teacher. She seemed patient in waiting for me to start the conversation and I hoped she couldn’t see the transparency in my desire to kneel before her and trace the outline of her milky white thigh along the ridges of her lace. Her legs were slightly parted and although I could see nothing inappropriate, it gave the hint of the promise land.
Clearing my throat, I looked into her blue eyes and mustering as serious a look as I could, I stated “Julie, I’m going to cut to the chase here and ask you a question that needs to be answered totally in truth. Do you understand?” With a nod from her, I continued: “Recent rumors about your club, my club, have recently come to my attention. I am told that the club is nothing more than a school sponsored sex club. Please, enlighten me as to what I signed off on for you and Alex. And please don’t tell me I made a mistake in not getting involved!”
I was clearly surprised, when rather than a quick no or even a show of uneasiness, Julia just gave a sly smile and started: “Truth, Professor M? I wouldn’t call it a sex club, per say: Look at it more like an ongoing experiment in human interaction. And of course, human interaction, especially at a college level, often means sexual interaction as well, but calling us nothing more than a sex club is a little insulting.”
Leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms, I was now all business. As I stared at Julia in disbelief, she tucked her legs up under her and seemed calm as could be. “Julia, you know this puts me in a bad position, right? You’re telling me I’m faculty advisor for a group of students that, according to rumors, are just having free for all sex. Please tell me that’s not the whole of it?”
“We have strict rules and guidelines, including what is allowed, with whom and of course no one is allowed to be part of the club unless they are drug and disease free. For the most part, we pride ourselves on discretion and are happy that we’re not spreading disease as is so common in many schools now.”
She continued: “Our club board includes a computer science major, pre-med student and finance major. We have state of the art monitoring capability and access to an off campus lab for blood tests. Please understand this was just our way of making sure a group of us could enjoy each other without worry of outside issues!”
Shaking my head, I wasn’t sure what to say, especially when she suggested I would best understand if I were to tour the club. Needing to know what I was truly involved in, I reluctantly agreed to meet her back at my office later in the evening to commence my “tour” of the “psych ward” as they had so inappropriately dubbed the clubhouse two years ago.