I guess awkward moments are something I specialise in by now. Running into ex-lovers in unsuitable places, whilst looking like I haven’t showered in weeks? Check. Running into girlfriends of ex-lovers and having nowhere to hide? Double check. But among all of the little mishaps that colour my adventurous sex life, nothing could ever be more awkward than having a hot make-out session interrupted by the horrified, gawping face of my tutor.
It all started perfectly normally. I was having an utterly average evening at the King’s Arms, which involved consuming obscene amounts of ale. It also involved a date, but the ale was more exciting. However, as the Cinderella hour slowly approached, I decided to give the chap a chance before the pub closed and kicked us out. That turned out to be a very good decision, as his tongue was definitely more skilled when mute. We went outside for a cigarette and just as he decided to demonstrate further to me his kissing prowess, I caught the eye of my tutor standing in the doorway. His look was full of recognition and terror. It was obvious that spotting one of his lovely students being a leather-skirted sex vixen was not what he wanted out of his evening. Tutorials will never be the same again. The poor man said nothing and walkedback inside, and I promptly suggested moving the date to my room, away from the scene of the crime. The sex temporarily took my mind off the matter, but now it’s PANIC TIME.
I suppose it’s not immediately obvious why this bothers me so much. Yeah, my tutor saw me feel someone up, whatever. We’re all adults and it’s not a big deal. Rules of professionalism dictate that neither of us mentions this incident, and our lives will happily go on. Right? Yet just as you wouldn’t want your boss to see you in the throes of passion, you don’t necessarily want to be confronted with your tutor in a non-academic context. I want my private life to be somewhat private (and that’s why I write about it in a student paper, obviously), separated from any professional relationships. Unless a really hot academic wanted to fuck me. Then I’m game. But all in all, an elderly, extremely respected man who may be expected to write me a reference one day is not someone I want around when I’m committed to the serious business of seduction.
Of course, if he were really attractive, it’d be a different matter. One hears many tales of illicit tutor-student incidents. A female student may have been spotted getting hot and heavy with a tutor on the Cowley roundabout. I was once advised by a postgrad to ‘just go for it’ if I so fancied; a suggestion I didn’t take, mostly because I didn’t know how. Perhaps wearing a little leather skirt would have been a good start.
