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Sexual Lessons
Part One
     
     
    By Lucy St. Vincent
     
     
    Copyright © 2013 by Lucy St.Vincent
     
    All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
     
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    Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at www.lucystvincent.com , on twitter at @LucyStVincent or follow Lucy St. Vincent on www.goodreads.com
     
     
    I am a professor: once upon a time, I was a professor of the classics, but now I am a professor of seduction.
     
    Girls are usually fraught with disappointing experiences in their youth unless they are fortunate enough to stumble upon a more experienced gentleman (emphasis on the world gentleman) who understands the fine art of seducing a woman.  At least once in their lives I would hope that women would experience such a man.  My aim is to make it so.  Women needn’t be content with gropers, bra-snappers and penis plungers who leave poor innocent victims to wonder, “ Is this what it’s all about ?”  No indeed.  Someone has got to teach these young men about sensuality and restraint and tantalization: how to make a woman feel treasured, not like a receptacle: how to make her insane with desire.
     
    I was lured into my present profession because of an encounter I had with a professor way back in my own college days.  I went to see my sociology professor to dispute a grade a received on what I thought (at the time) was a rather well written and researched paper.  I believed it deserved an A and I had only received a C plus.  I was a young woman accustomed to receiving As.  All the time.
     
    Upon entering the office of aforesaid professor, I had my talking points prepared, as I have always been a woman of precision and planning.  I must admit, that I was already attracted to Doctor Edelstein and rather relished the idea of repartee in his office.   He had a charisma that ensured his classes were filled each semester.  It wasn’t just his compelling subject matter, however, or the way in which he delivered it that attracted the masses to his lecture hall: he was undeniably attractive in the most classic sense of the word.  To leave it to the reader’s imagination, let’s just suffice it to say that he was tall, dark and handsome.  And then some.
     
    “I’ve come to ask you about my grade,” I stated boldly, entering the room, not bothering with niceties.
     
    “I supposed as much, Ms. Redding.  What is it exactly you wish to dispute?” 
     
    As he said this, I could feel his eyes traveling up my body, my well-shaped calves, my loose flowered knee-length skirt, the white blouse that was sexy in a school-girlish sort of way and that I had just undone one more button on as a last-minute impulse.
     
    I approached his desk on which he was leaning, stopping about a foot from him.  Even then, I was aware of the sexual power I had over men, though I had never used it to my advantage, though I had indeed used it.  Unfortunately, I had, until then, chosen boys my own age: boys who couldn’t see beyond the end of their own dicks and wanted a quick fuck and fumble.  All of my sexual encounters had thus far left me feeling quite disillusioned.  What good was it having sexual powers if they resulted in no pleasure or gain?  (In this instance, I must admit, I hoped at least my powers would lead