From the moment Vanessa Stephens walked into my office, I was captivated. A shade below six, tanned, slender from the waist up, full-breasted, she was absolutely the sort of girl you went out with and people couldn't help but wonder if you were Paris out to charm the Helens of the world.

She sat down in the chair across my desk and gently parted her long artificial hair from her oval face, lifting it and letting it fall in a cascade behind her back. She wore gold earrings and a thick gold chain probably worth two thousand US dollars, not to mention the cost of the gold rings in various shapes and sizes adorning her fingers. Obviously Vanessa was a big thinker.

 

"Mr. Ketukuma, I'm here to discuss my grade sheet," she said. "For two weeks now, I've been trying to reach you, but whenever I call your phone is shut down. Why are you doing this to me?"

 

I folded my hands on the desk and leaned forward, leering at the swell of Vanessa's breasts. "Vanessa, you're not the only student in this university who wants to discuss his or grade sheet, and therefore you wouldn't expect me to be at your every beck and call," I told her. "And I've got better things to do than having rapports with students who are obvious failures."

 

"Mr. Ketukuma, I just want you to help me, please," she said. "Forget about the other people. Everybody in this university is here on his or her own." "But that doesn't make any difference," I said. "You're all crawling down my back and pestering me to help you with grades, especially when you don't deserve them."

 

"I know … I know," she said quickly. "But everybody has cheated in school one way or another, so sometimes you teachers and professors have got to help us," she added with a laugh. "Now, about my grades. I've failed five courses, including yours, Public Administration, which is my major. I've talked with the other professors and settled the matter as best I could. I really need to do this. Urgently. I'm graduating this year and …"

 

"That's none of my business," I broke in. "And If you've bribed those other professors and gotten away with it, good for you! Me? I won't take money from you, so don't even try to mention it. I'm not one of these so-called professors who are willing to trade their reputation and respectability for every brown copper that comes their way. What is more, …"

 

"Look, Mr. Ketukuma, I didn't come here to have a heated discussion with you concerning my grades," she said, and cut me off. "If you don't want to help me, no problem. I'll fail, repeat your course, and probably another year in this university. But remember life is such that we always meet each other at the end of the road." Now she was getting philosophical on me, and I wondered if she had read Socrates, Confucius, or Nietzsche.

 

"Thanks for your time," she said, and got up, her face contorted. I let her take two or three steps away from my desk. "Vanessa, there's no need getting so annoy and storming off. We could certainly discuss something here. "

 

She stopped, turned, smiled at me, then walked back to the desk and sat down, sighing. Again I gloated at her breasts, and felt something slowly building up at the front of my trousers. Apparently noticing my leering and willing to give me the full satisfaction of it, Vanessa leaned over closer, her huge chest only an inch from my face.

 

We sat there quietly for several moments. I was engrossed by the sight of the girl's breasts and couldn't help staring, frozen in my seat, blind with ecstasy, and the budge at the front of my trousers now an utter embarrassment. But thank goodness Vanessa couldn't see it under the desk.

 

"Mr. Ketukuma, …" her voice blasted through my brain like lightning and made me sit up suddenly, blinking.

"Yes?" My voice sounded hollow. I leaned back and sat slump in the chair.

 

"So what about my grades, Mr. Ketukuma? Are you going to help me or not?" Her voice seemed to have taken on the edge my voice had lost, as though she knew I was hooked and that she now had me by the neck and was squeezing.

 

"I'll help you with your grades, don't worry," I assured her.

"Thanks Mr. Ketuma!" she exclaimed, and jumped up.

Grabbing my hand across the desk, she shook it excitedly.

I smiled and nodded, then said calmly, "Do you realize the trouble of helping you with grades, Vanessa? I could be fired and stripped of my profession. I could have my reputation damaged. The list is endless. Yet I'm resolved to help you. But you've got to pay a prize."

 

"No problem, and I know what it is already," she said, leering at me.

"And what do you think it is?" I asked, wondering if she had read my mind.

"Meet me at Park Hotel 9p.m. Today. And be on time," she said, smiled, and blew me a kiss.

I made no reaction. I watched her walked out of the office and shut the door behind her.

 

Did I go to Park Hotel and exactly at 9p.m.? You bet I did. What about Vanessa? She had made a reservation and was an astounding performer. What about her grades? Oh, it's really sad to say. But she failed the course and had to repeat a year at the university.

 

Why did I fail her after everything at the hotel? I think girls like Vanessa should study, and not use their body and cash to bribe professors. They are no substitute for learning, and I will always consider both a free offer from students.

 

What was Vanessa's reaction afterwards? She insulted me couple of times, using pretty vulgar language and threatening to have me beaten up by her boyfriend, a muscled fellow who killed wantonly during the war. But it's been a long time, and she has done nothing so far. She graduated a year ago, nearly failing Public Administration. I haven't seen or heard of her since.