Don't Stand So Close to Me

Don't Stand So Close to Me

Jerry was excited. It was the third test of the semester, and marked the beginning of the “home stretch,” of the academic year. He was ready, as the proctors distributed the exams.

This was his third class with Mrs. Malloy, and he always enjoyed her classes. However, up to this point, he had been unwilling to question “why.” He certainly enjoyed mathematics, but the truth was that he also enjoyed Mrs. Malloy. She was from New York, NY., and her contrasting cultural presentation always provoked his interest. She was beautiful.

Coming from Florida, this was less influential over Jerry's affections than it was for most. He was slightly jaded by sun-tanned barbies: he retained his sexual response, but these were commonplace to him. If they had been cattle, they had exposed “everything but the moo.”

Mrs. Malloy fired the imagination in other ways. As a woman, this was intentional; it was merely accomplished by novel means. For example, on a rainy day, she wore a short skirt, and selected a blouse with a low neckline. She accomplished her effect, by wrapping herself completely in a half-length trench-coat. When she made her entrance, she timed it so that the class must all be present, but did not address them until she had first written her examples up on the board. This took enough time that the class began to wonder if she would ever take it off. And if not, why not...? She then turned to face the class before removing it with panache, and hanging it up in the corner. She completed the effect by refusing to meet the eye of any student until she was done. Her lecture needed no suggestive remark to hook her audience. They would study, if only to win her favor!

On a different occasion, she had chosen a cardinal red business suit. Like her trench-coat, it too, was half-length. It was double breasted like a man's three piece, but its effect was accomplished much the same way. It held the allure that one began to wonder if she would shrug it off like a coat. Once your imagination's gone there, you unavoidably wonder what's underneath... if anything!

Her features were slightly elven, like a pixie. This is characteristic of children born on the brink of menopause, but it made for a comely presentation. Her dark hair contrasted with pale skin, a feature she employed, rather than combating it. She was attractive even when she wasn't trying, and Jerry's first sight of her had been one of a petite idol, attired simply in a blue blouse and stark white jeans. The mystery of how she kept them clean, together with the implied cleanliness of person and purity of soul, served to carve a niche in the temple of memory, in which to worship her image.

Jerry got his test, and began his work deliberately. “Make haste slowly,” was a good rule on tests. He was shocked to have her single him out sharply. “Jerry Burke! Please take a seat on the back row. Others can see your test!” He was stunned almost to the point of tears. He immediately covered his work, and obediently trekked to the back of the class. He hadn't lost much time, but he would have difficulty recovering from the blow. How could she suspect him of cheating?

Mrs. Malloy's concerns were far from academic. Jerry was a favorite student, and she had developed an affection for him early. She didn't favor him for choosing a seat in the front as often as possible, but he was almost always there, making for a reliable audience. His questions were always entertaining, and he was cute enough, too. However, this had resulted in a problem. Without knowing it, he had a tendency to look her up and down, like a television camera displaying a beach bunny! No great crime, and it should have been no great problem. But, over time he had started to elicit a physical response. Public speakers need adrenaline, and teaching was one form of public speaking. As such, the “rush,” was not an issue. But when her breasts rose and she had to re-adjust her bra, as a public speaker this was a problem! It was mission critical to retain the students' respect, no less so because she had exerted herself to titillate them on occasion. There was little enough that she could do, but today, mischief had conspired with revenge, and Jerry was going to suffer!

There were only two proctors, and she whispered for one to tell the other that she would chaperone Jerry personally. Jerry was completely immersed in his work by the time she approached his seat. He appeared to be computing a determinant, which she recalled should give a negative value. The final trick on THAT question was that the specified value had to be plugged in as a volume. There are no negative volumes, so the entire computation failed if the student neglected to conclude by taking the absolute value. Trivial, but hardly programmatic. She took up her station directly behind him, and let him endure the experience of someone “looking over your shoulder.”

She watched the rest of the class. The proctors moved back and forth, reminiscent of sheep dogs working a flock of sheep. It didn't appear likely that they would look in her direction. Jerry's left elbow stuck out from the desktop of his seat, and when she walked around to that side of his desk, she positioned herself to cradle his elbow between her thighs. 1 one thousand, 2 one thousand, 3 one thousand. She retreated. In the characteristic way of the New Yorker, she extended the middle finger of her right hand, anticipating that he would look up. The message? “You can't prove a THING!”

Jerry was already blushing by the time he looked up. He had frozen when she did it, and by the time he responded, he had taken the attitude that he didn't want to make trouble. Why expose his favorite teacher? He had NO desire to hurt her. The predictable erection began pulling at his pubic hairs. He made no move to adjust: she was standing right there!

Having assured herself that there were no witnesses, Mrs. Malloy resumed her position behind Jerry. He finished his test in torment. With five minutes remaining, she returned to her station on the dais at the front of the class. “Time!” she proclaimed. Then, for all to hear, she announced “Jerry, when then proctors have finished collecting the exams, will you please bring them to me in my office?”

“Yes'm,” he managed.

When he arrived, five minutes later she was gone. A post-it note bid him to “slide the test papers under my door in batches.” WTF? He thought. “What did I do?”

Mrs. Malloy was already on the way home. “That'll teach him,” she thought. She was a little flushed. She had nearly been a victim of her own success!