Chapter Seven
Tessa
Lindsey and I had a two-hour break in between classes, so we went out and got lunch at a Mediterranean place we both liked, so we could talk about whether or not I was actually going to sleep with a professor for a better grade.
“So,” she said, “do you think you’re really going to go through this whole thing with Leo?”
I took a sip of my water, which had a lemon slice floating on the top. The tartness made me wince. “I don’t know,” I said. “I keep going back and forth about it. It’s not really who I am. I’m not that sort of person.”
“He must actually like you,” Lindsey said, “because when I went and asked him about extra credit, he actually just told me to write something. Which I’m not doing. I don’t really need the extra credit. I’m satisfied with a B. I’d even be satisfied with a C+, to be totally honest. But he doesn’t know that. And he definitely did not suggest anything even remotely close to sex. So he must really like you.”
“I don’t think he likes me.”
“Of course he does. Why would he say no to me, but yes to you? Because he likes you.” She clapped her hands together. “This is so exciting!”
“It’s not exciting; I feel like a slut.”
“Have you done anything with him yet?”
“No.”
“Well, then, you’re not a slut. And even when you do do something with him, you’re still not a slut.”
“I’m not? Then what’s a slut? I mean, I’m basically whoring myself out for a better grade.”
Lindsey shrugged. “I think it’s hot. It’s not like he’s some nasty old man and this is the only way he could get laid. Leo is completely fuckable, and you’re going to get to do it. I would keep this a secret, though, if I were you, because if word gets out that he’ll sleep with his students, then—”
“He’ll get fired?”
“I was going to say that there will be girls—and some guys—lined up at his door, just begging him for an extra credit assignment.”
“I’m not going to say anything. Maybe it’s not even going to happen. He told me to wear something to the next class that would let him know I was still interested in doing it. What do you think that even means?”
Lindsey stared at me. “Seriously, Tess? You don’t know what that means?”
“I mean, I could take a guess or two. He wants me to dress slutty, right? Because what I’m doing is something that a slut would do.”
“Ugh, stop it. You’ve got to get the idea that you’re being a slut out of your head, okay? Otherwise, it’s just going to mess with you the whole time you’re doing this. And this is something that should be fun. You should be getting some enjoyment out of this. Don’t look at it like you’re letting some guy use you. You take control of the situation, okay? You do this for you. Let him think that he’s the one getting all the pleasure out of it, but you make it about you. You’re basically manipulating him to get what you want, which is a good grade.”
“But what if I do all this and he doesn’t give me a good grade? What if he’s just saying that he will so he gets what he wants, and then in the end, he still gives me a shitty grade?”
“Hmm.” Lindsey frowned; I could tell that she hadn’t considered this as a possibility until now. “Well, I don’t think he seems like he would do something like that.”
“You don’t even know him. And he basically propositioned me, so I think it seems like something he would definitely do.”
“Then you need insurance.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You don’t know what insurance is?”
“Of course I know what insurance is! I just don’t know what that means for this specific instance! It’s not like I can call up my parents’ insurance company and ask them to include sleeping with my teacher on the policy!”
Lindsey after. “Ha ha, if only it worked that way! No, you’re right—you can’t do that, but you can do it another way. Write down everything that happens. Like an expose. Remember, we talked about those in class?”
“Yeah, but even if I do that, who’s to say that I didn’t just make it up?”
“Record yourself.”
“There’s no way I’m going to be able to set up my phone without him knowing.”
“Well . . . maybe not a video. But have the voice recorder on. I’m sure he’ll make some sort of vocal indication as to what you guys are doing. And who knows? Maybe another time you suggest that you guys make a video. I don’t think there’s any guy that would turn down getting to make a sex tape—it’s like every guy’s secret fantasy. Whether they’ll admit it or not. And then you’ll have all the evidence that you need.”
“Evidence that would show I was totally going along with it, too!”
“Of course, but he’s more in the wrong here. He’s the one who would get in trouble; not you. And this is only if he tries to back out on his end of the deal. This is just your insurance. You probably won’t even need to show anyone.”
I took another gulp of my water, this time enjoying the tartness, because at least it was a mild distraction to this conversation. But as I set my glass back down, I realized that this was my parents’ fault. Anything that happened now was at least indirectly related to them, because of how much pressure they were putting on me. I knew they’d be beyond pissed if they ever found out that I had done something like sleep with a professor, but I’d do everything I could to make sure that never happened.