My Professor (illustrated letter)
He sat down in a a comfy couch, and I sat down on a facing wicker chair, stretching out my legs away from him in a demure manner, although I was well aware that in my figure-hugging and very short dress, even a demure posture could be quite arousing. After a while I got to be more playful than demure; subtly teasing him as we talked.
I discussed the papers I had written, and he replied to me in an annoyed, perfunctory manner that my papers were fine.
I asked him why, then, did he only give me B's. His disdainful answer was that a B is a perfectly good grade, and I shouldn't complain.
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