When I was in grad school, I instructed "Writing for the Media, Journalism 203." the class was mostly perky young women with ambitions of being local news anchors or bubbly field reporters. Most were pretty stereotypical--big hair, lots of makeup, a saccrine-sweet bird chirpy voice. As a 24-year-old grad student, these freshmen were nice eye candy, but little else. Except one student. I always remember Ashley. I had such a crush on her. She was a few years older, close to my age. She wasn't bubbly or Barbie, but simple in appearance and sexy as hell. She had the air of someone who'd traveled, seen the world, and was now ready to get serious about a career. She was a girl that radiated confidence without being overbearing or obnoxious. She had reddish hair, freckles, and a sultry voice with just a hint of her childhood Georgia. Those qualities alone were enough to drive me crazy, but I could also sense her sexuality. She had an easy in way she moved, the way she talked, the way she'd glance at you and smile, just enough.
When spring arrived on campus, the students, like the flowers, seemed to blossom. The girls wore skirts and tank tops, the boys flirted and jostled. Everyone felt the surge of spring. I'd take the class out to the commons. They loved class outside on the grass. That was when I glance over to Ashley and caught a glimpse. I could barely keep my eyes off. Each week that spring, it seemed she'd sit just close enough, just angled right, and her legs just visible enough, for just long enough. I'd steal glances, but never linger long enough to chance detection. I'd return home, frustrated, and replay the stolen glimpses in my mind. I knew I had to save the moment somehow before the semester ended.
One day, outside on the commons, I raised my cel phone and pretended to glance at it to see the time. "Looks like we still have 5 minutes of class," I said, "Any questions on the homework?" As I spoke, I snapped this image. It is the only one of that whole spring.
Somehow I'm sure Ashley knew. She made no attempt to move. At the end of class, she thanked me for the good lecture, and winked, and flashed her smile, just enough.
Post a Comment