Professor Beau Edison laid with his head back against his leather recliner, murmuring to himself something about dreading the grueling oncoming semester. In ten minutes he would be waiting for his arrivals on what he expected to be another semester of the same lectures. Even if at one point Beau was quite fond of exploring the possibilities with words, he soon grew tired of the same process day in and day out. He realized that this job was nothing different than any other job. It was a repetitious cycle of exhaustive speaking, not only boring himself to death but his class as well.
The University of British Columbia in Vancouver may have been something to brag about, but in the end, he felt he may as well be at an assembly line creating another batch of tires. His students were made in the same vein: instructed the same way, pushed in the same direction, and just another flock of inventions to make society spin. Beau walked up to the door of his office and lifted his coat to reveal a hanging mirror. He didn't want anyone to think he was vein, but he couldn't let his demeanor slip in the slightest. He ensured his red strands were all neatly in place with a slight amount of his high end Oribe rock hard gel, and that he had managed to remove some of the cynicism from his miserable eyes. He looked behind himself and eyed the clock getting closer to 9:00am. He let the sound of the ticks match the pace of his breathing. Tick. Breathe. Tick. Breathe.
Beau picked up his briefcase and silver portable mug before proceeding to Leduc Hall for the first assembly, English 4401, Romantic literature.
As he walked down the halls, the familiarity did nothing to make him feel better. Previously he'd moved around colleges so often, convinced that it was where he worked that made him pessimistic. When nothing had changed but the scenery, he decided to stay put for once. The pretentious social circle he joined here seemed to be the only thing that fulfilled him in the slightest.
Most of the professors hobnobbed in a manner that made it clear they felt they were the upper crust of society; drinking only elegant wines and finer foods, things that only someone like Fraiser Crane would understand.
At the mere age of 32, Beau was one of the younger professors currently in the midst of obtaining his PHD. He didn't have any plans of what to make of his life after this. He just hoped it wouldn't involve having to teach students. No one needed to pick up a life so un-fulfilling.
Beau found a few people had beaten him to the assembly room, taking note of the punctual ones, the teachers pets. He skimmed the early audience and noticed they all sat apart of one another, clearly not social butterflies but people here to take his lecture seriously. So maybe they did earn brownie points.
He set his briefcase down and began organizing the notes he would pass out, obtaining his freshly printed attendance sheet as well. 19 names. He looked up and decided he'd play a game, attempting to figure out who was who before they announced themselves. He picked up a pencil and began jotting away.
Travis Barron....probably the student in the blue button up shirt and eagerly awaiting the moment his pen touched paper. His surname fits in with his the cut of his cloth.
Akavishnu Patel....too easy.
Victoria Montoya.....the super hot...what?
Beau gave a double take at the young woman sitting in the second row near the center. Her dark brown locks in loose curls framed her face too perfectly. Her black rectangular glasses screamed sexy librarian. Her white tank top with an elegant plunge showed off modest cleavage. He erased his previous commentary and began again.
The most gorgeous woman I've seen in ages.
She had to be Victoria. Not only was she just one of the 8 females in the class, there was no way she had one of these very difficult to pronounce foreign names. Not to mention she had the only Spanish last name.
"Victoria Montoya?" he called out for attendance and attempted not to look in her direction. As positive as he was, she rose her hand. Lifting her hand also pushed up her already showing cleavage. Beau gulped quietly to himself and pressed a concealed smile away. Please be a teachers pet.
During the entire class, he forced himself to look away from Victoria every time he felt he was staring in her direction. It wasn't his fault she sat in the center where the most eye contact would be made. It wasn't his fault she held such rosy cheeks and lips that seemed tastier than whatever was being served up at any 5 star eatery. How could he keep himself from wondering what the rest of her breasts looked like?
"For your first assignment, I'd like for you all to take a piece of literature you are familiar with, and discuss how one character influences other characters to change in a true, meaningful way."
Beau began reorganizing his paperwork, keeping a modest look hidden while trying to stare intently at Victoria. He needed to see her stand up, see just how luscious her legs were, and if she was wearing a skirt. As she rose, Beau did in fact see her in a black pencil skirt and simple black heels. She had to be near his age. She was dressed too professionally to be young. He kept her in his sight for every beat that she moved, enjoying the last of her view when her bottom slipped passed the door.
"Professor?"
Beau quickly looked back to see a student standing before him. "Yes?"
The student looked over to see what it was Beau had been staring at so hardcore.
"Don't worry, I'd stare at her too," he snickered, easing Beau out of his surprise.
"How can I help you Travis?"