Justin - A University Professor's Crush On His Student

matt60606

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After 17 years as a technical writer for a financial services company, I decided in 2009 to use my PhD in creative writing to get a teaching job at a local university. Part of the reason for this career change was the financial crisis, which put my employer and others in a precarious situation. The other reason was because I had a son who would be starting college in a few years and another who would be following him. One of the benefits of teaching at the university was free tuition for dependents. Not having to pay tuition would give my wife and me a financial cushion because we could use the money we had put away for their education in case she lost her job.

Even though I was 45 years old, I was a junior member of the English and Writing Department. That meant I had to teach English 101 and 102, the freshman writing courses that nobody else in the department wanted to teach. I didn't mind, really. These kids were only a couple of years older than my older son, so I could relate to them, somewhat. I also found that I was especially able to relate to the business majors because of my background in financial services.

During my second semester, I taught four sections of English 102, and that kept me on campus late into the cold, dreary, winter evenings. I would find time to go to the fitness center on campus after teaching my classes and before I would go back to my office to grade students' papers and work on my writing. I would spend most of my time doing cardio on one of the bikes or ellipticals, but I would occasionally do some weight training. One afternoon while I was waiting for the leg press, I heard someone behind me say "Hey boss!"

I turned around and recognized the face but couldn't remember the name. He was a student in one of my classes. I just responded, "Hey, how's it going?" He said he was blowing off some steam after spending all day in classes, and I told him I was doing the same. Then I suddenly remembered his name. "It's Justin, right?" He seemed impressed that I knew who he was. Just then, one of the leg press machines opened up, and he motioned to it and told me he would see me in class on Friday.

I did my reps and felt that nice burn in my thighs, but I also felt something else. It was something I had not felt since I had married my wife over 17 years earlier. Seeing Justin in that tight white tank top stirred feelings I had denied and thought I had forgotten.
 

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Justin - Part 2

Because he was one of my students, I knew I would never be able to explore those feelings with Justin. And, after all, I was married with kids. I had suppressed those feelings all my life, and I would do the same this time. Still, during classroom discussions, I would find myself looking in Justin's direction more than I would look at other students, and he would return the glances. Was he just being a serious student, or did he sense that he had awakened some dormant feelings that had never disappeared? Of course he wouldn't know that, nor would he ever suspect it. But, whenever I saw him at the fitness center, he would always come over and say something, even if it was "Hey boss." There was something about the way he said that that made me tingle.

As a student, he showed a great deal of promise. I could tell from his writing that he had ideas that he was not always able to express. He was a solid "B" student in my class, which was better than the average student. I found my time spending more time reading his submissions, trying to understand him, making comments, and encouraging him to express his thoughts freely. As the semester progressed, his writing improved. And, as the weather got warmer, he would frequently wear tank tops and sleeveless t-shirts to class. Unfortunately, I was also spending less time in the gym and more time grading students' papers and preparing for the final batch I would get at the end of the semester.

Shortly before the final essays were due, I heard a knock on my door. I said "Come in," and, before I could look up, I heard "Hey boss!" I felt a smile come to my face when I saw Justin wearing a light blue tank top and dark blue shorts. He wanted to ask a few questions about the final essay. After I answered his last question, I asked him how his other classes were going. He said they were going OK, but he had had a rough first semester and his parents might want him to go to a community college closer to home for his sophomore year. I told him I would be happy to help any way I could, and he thanked me. Then he said he had not seen me at the fitness center in a while. I explained that my workload and family life had cut into my opportunities to go. He said he understood, but "Don't forget, you gotta take care of yourself." With that, he reached out his hand and said "Thanks for a great semester!" We shook hands and he left.
 

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Justin - Part 3

I planned to spend the summer after my first year as an English and Writing professor writing a book. It was something I had always wanted to do, but I found myself doing stuff around the house and teaching a section of English 101. It was an interesting mix of incoming freshmen who lived in the area and continuing students who had not passed the course after one or two tries in their freshman year. The extra money was nice, and so was the opportunity to do something to keep me busy. It didn't take up that much time, and it was only for five weeks, but it was a nice diversion. We also took our annual family trip to my in-laws' lake cabin a few hundred miles away from home. It gave me a chance to relax, physically and mentally. It also gave me a chance to be alone with my wife and our sons. She and I knew we would look back on these summers one day and treasure them. Unfortunately, the days of putting our sons to bed early so we could sneak out for a skinny dip in the lake were long past, but these two weeks always gave us an opportunity to reconnect without all of the distractions of home.

Before I knew it, summer was over, and I was back on campus preparing for my second year. I was a bit more familiar with my responsibilities than I had been the year before. Once again, I was teaching multiple sections of English 101, but I was also academic advisor to some students and the member of a committee. And after I got settled into the semester, I started going back to the fitness center. Part of me hoped Justin would be there, but I was not sure if he was even back this semester. Not having him around did make me a bit more focused on my visits to the center. While I did not take it as seriously as the male students, especially the ones who carried around their gallon jugs of water, I found myself getting into the shape of my life. I had never been obese, but I had always carried around about 10 extra pounds that gave me a bona fide dad body. The extra pounds got redistributed from my midsection to my upper body. I felt a lot better, and my wife told me I looked a lot better as well. One day when she stopped by my office to bring me lunch she asked me if she should be concerned, and I asked why. She said "Well, you're around all those cute freshman girls in your classes. They're away from home for the first time and miss their fathers, and...."

"Ewwww!" I interrupted her. "These girls are young enough to be our kids. You don't have anything to worry about." She laughed and said she was just joking and then told me about a crush she had on a literature professor she had when she was in college. "I never knew about that. So, does me being a professor now turn you on?" She said it did, maybe a little, and before we could explore that further, she said she needed to meet a client across town at 1. We kissed and she left.

As I finished my lunch, I wondered if she did have a reason to be concerned. None of the students in my classes, or that I had seen anywhere else on campus, had captured my attention the way Justin had. Would he notice how I had shaped up? I didn't even know if he was still on campus or if he had transferred to the community college closer to where he lived. I couldn't look it up in our student database because I only had access to students in my classes and that I had advised. Damned privacy laws. I didn't want any information about Justin; I just wanted to know if he was enrolled. Then it hit me: I could contact the registrar's office and find out, but it would be weird just to ask about one student. I looked back at my rosters from the last Spring Semester and got the names of a few other students in my classes and composed an email to the registrar's office, asking if they (and Justin) had returned to campus this Fall Semester. I explained that I had not seen these students around this semester and was curious. I know it seemed strange, but it was a reasonable inquiry from a caring professor.

It did not take 10 minutes to get a response from a student assistant in the office. She had been in one of my classes during my first year at the university. The response started with "I am so happy you take an interest in your former students. I wish other professors were as caring as you! Please see my comments next to the names below. By the way, Sarah is a good friend of mine so I will tell her you asked!"

I scrolled down to the bottom of the email, looking only at Justin's name, and next to it were the words "Not enrolled."

That was that, I guess.
 

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Justin - Part 4

My second year as a professor went smoothly, and I was able to spend part of the following summer at the lake cabin writing. Nothing major, just a couple of short stories, one about the fitness routine I had developed over the past year and the other about a story one of my students had told me. My older son had graduated high school and was getting ready to start college in the Fall. I had helped him get registered for his classes. He would be living at home; we promised him that he could move into campus housing during his sophomore year.

I could not believe how quickly my third year in academia had come around. By this time, there were more junior members of the department, so I was able to teach more than just the usual freshman writing courses. I was scheduled to teach a technical writing course in the Fall, along with English 101, and a short story writing course in the Spring, along with English 102. I was looking forward to teaching these courses and working with students who were more experienced writers.

The Fall Semester was enjoyable: my classes went well, I enjoyed working with my students and my colleagues, and I was able to keep going to the fitness center. Even though I was focused on my cardio and occasional weight training, which were paying off, I did find myself looking at male students while I did my cardio and, occasionally, in the changing room. I felt conflicted for a few reasons: I was married, some of these guys were current and former students of mine, and I had a son who was their age. I tried to ask myself how I would feel if I knew some guy approaching 50 was looking at one of my sons. Still, it made me feel good when one of them would ask me to spot him at the bench press or one of my former students would tell me I was looking good.

The next semester was also going well. The demand for my short story writing class was so high that my department opened another section of it. I felt like I had found my calling. My older son was also doing well, so much so that he applied to transfer to another university that offered the engineering program he was interested in. He was even able to get a scholarship that covered his tuition, which meant that all his mom and I had to pay for were his dorm and meal plan, something we had promised we would cover after his freshman year anyway.

One afternoon while I was in my office reading short stories, I decided to take a break and check my email. As I was skimming them, another one came in, and i opened it. It was from Justin, and I could feel myself getting excited. He asked how I was doing and reminded me who he was in case I did not remember...as if! He said that his parents had decided he should take a year away from school and work full-time in the family's waste removal and disposal business so he could get his priorities straight. He explained that after a year of that he enrolled in evening classes at a local community college and continued to work during the day. He said he made all A's in the Fall and was on track to make all A's again this term, and he would be a junior after it was finished. Then he said he was applying to come back to the university again in the Fall Semester and asked if I would be willing to write a recommendation letter for his readmission.

I read and re-read the email to make sure it was not my mind playing tricks on me. It was real, so I started my reply: "'Dear Justin,' no that sounds too familiar. How about 'Hi Justin'? No, that sounds weird. I will go with 'Dear Justin.' 'Dear Justin, it is good to hear from you. Of course I remember you and I am happy to hear you are doing well and coming back to continue your education here. It will be my pleasure to write a recommendation letter for you. When you get a chance, let me know what your major will be, what courses you have taken, and any other information that will be helpful in the letter.' Yes that sounded good."

I was proud of myself for composing such a professional email so quickly. Then I realized, I do this shit for a living, why should I be so proud? On a whim, I ended the email with "Please let me know if there is anything else I can do to help with your readmission or anything else," and sent it.

I sat at my computer for a few minutes waiting for his reply and then realized he was probably working and would not have a chance to get back to me quickly. I decided to take a break at the fitness center so I could work off this energy. I changed into my gym clothes and took a bike ride to nowhere. I was so focused on the email from Justin that I didn't even notice any of the students walking by me except when one said hello.

I wasn't sure what excited me so much. After all, I had never thought of Justin sexually, and there was no guarantee that he would even get readmitted or that I would see him around campus if he did. I was soaked with sweat after the ride but didn't bother showering. I just wiped myself off with my gym clothes, got dressed, and went back to the office. Once I got there, I checked my computer. There was a response from Justin: "Thanks for the quick reply Doc. I plan to major in finance and I will send all the info you requested after my class tonight. You're the best! By the way, are you teaching anything besides the freshman writing courses? I would like to take another class from you if you are."

Was this really happening? I was scheduled to teach technical writing again in the Fall Semester, and it would be perfect for a finance major. Now it was just a matter of getting him readmitted.
 

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Justin - Part 5

The summer before my fourth academic year was an exciting one. Three of the short stories I had written had been published in scholarly journals and one was republished in a national publication read by more than just writing professors. My third year review had been excellent, and students were filling the sections of the classes I taught. As had been the case with my short story course in the previous semester, my technical writing course had been so popular that another section was opened. The time at my in-laws' lake cabin was a little more special because our older son would be transferring away to another university. Even though he was only going to be a few hours away, it was still an emotional thing for my wife and me. On top of all that, our younger son was going to be a senior in high school.

Oh, and Justin was coming back.

I know it's strange to be obsessed with someone I had only seen in my classes, the fitness center, and my office over the course of a semester more than two years ago. My wife had told me about a crush she had on her literature professor when she was a coed, but this was different. I was his professor, and I was married, happily married. And my obsession was someone at least 25 years younger than I was. Oh, and he was a guy, and I didn't even know if he was interested in guys.

As soon as I got my class rosters, I confirmed that Justin was in my technical writing course. He was in the newly-opened section on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons. I didn't normally teach afternoon classes, but there weren't many other times or classrooms available when this section was created.

I looked forward to that first Monday. During the previous week, I even spent my time in my office when I was not in meetings, on the off chance that Justin would drop by.

I could not wait for that 2 p.m. class meeting, and before I knew it, it was time. I got to the classroom, hesitated to gather myself, and walked into the room. I scanned the room and I didn't see him. I knew he was at least two years older now and probably looked a bit different. I started calling names, and before I got to his, he walked in.

The two years had been good to him. His light-brown hair was still cut short, but he now had a short beard. He filled out the light blue polo shirt nicely, and his face was perfectly tanned. It made him look classically handsome. When he walked in and nodded with a smile as he found an empty desk, I wanted everyone else to disappear so we would be alone. I didn't want to go over all the first-day-of-class topics that I needed to cover today. I tried not to look in Justin's direction too much, but it was even more difficult to avoid it than it was the last time I had him as a student.

Somehow, I made it through the hour and then had a few students waiting to ask questions. I quickly looked around and didn't see Justin. I guess he left, so there I was with the student who was going to be a bridesmaid in her sister's wedding who wanted to know if it was OK to miss Friday that week in October, the student who wasn't sure about if she should take this course, and the student who wanted to tell me about all the good things he had heard about me as a professor.

I grabbed my backpack and walked into the hallway. As soon as I stepped out of the classroom, I heard the familiar voice say "Hey boss!" and the hand on my left arm. I turned around and saw that smile and those brown eyes. As we shook hands, he apologized for being late and thanked me for everything I had done to help him, including getting him into my class. "Would you like to come to my office?" I asked. God, I hope that didn't sound as awkward to him as it felt for me.

"Can't, I have a job. I'm working in the fitness center and my shift starts at 3. I'll come by before class sometime, or I will see you in the fitness center. It looks like you're still visiting.

"Thanks, yeah I will." He noticed my modest physical improvements since the last time he saw me. Man! "And you look good too." Fuck, did I really say that?

"Thanks boss, gotta run, see you on Wednesday!" and shook my hand as he dashed away.

It was official. I was obsessed.
 

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Justin - Part 6

I'm not sure what I expected from Justin's return. Our interactions in the classroom, at the fitness center, and in my office were all of a professional nature. I made it a point to go to the fitness center after my classes on Monday, Wednesday, and usually Friday. And I was often there on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Between my more frequent visits and Justin's offers to train me on non-cardio days, I was getting into even better shape, Of course, I still had the diet of a guy with a dad bod, so the idea of getting six-pack abs was more a fantasy than reality.

Speaking of fantasies, while our interactions were professional, my fantasies about Justin were pretty intense. It started with fantasies of him telling me about the importance of a good diet and then showing me his abs to one where he told me about getting massage training and offering to demonstrate his skills on me. Oh man, that massage fantasy:

Being alone in his apartment, the lights low and the table warm, and me lying there naked while his hands work my tired muscles. And then, when I turn over, his touch becomes more sensual, and after he gets me hard massaging my inner thighs, he moves to my chest and tells me how he likes my hairy chest. He says "Mine isn't nearly as hairy as yours" as he takes off his shirt. As I crane my head to get a look at him, he moves to the side of the table and gently starts massaging my forearm and hand, and the next thing I know, my hand is against his chest, moving back and forth feeling the lightly haired skin. Without even thinking, I say "I have fantasized about this."

Before I can think about the consequences of him hearing me say that, he says "I know boss," as he puts my arm back against my side and slips off his shorts and positions his cock against my hand. It takes me a few seconds to realize it's as hard as mine is.

As excited as I am, I realize we have already gone too far, but I don't want to stop. I can't let it stop, and when he says, "This is your fantasy; just enjoy and do what you want. Nobody will ever know besides us," I grab his cock and start stroking it. In my fantasy, it is thick and he moans as I stroke it.


If only it weren't a fantasy.

At this point, back in the real world, I would be happy just to catch a glimpse of him shirtless. I had seen other students shirtless in the changing room, but since he worked there, it was unlikely I would ever see him changing in there...unless I happened to be there after one of his workouts. Surely he worked out at some point during the day, but it would be creepy to ask him when he worked out. At least I might be able to see him in one of those tank tops.

Other than my continued longing for Justin, the semester was pretty uneventful. Classes went smoothly, my wife and I adjusted to having only one son at home, and he had already decided he would spend at least one year living at home attending my university. And my relationship with Justin remained professional, just as it did with all my other students. Maybe once he was no longer in my class, I would stop acting like a silly teenager. But that would have to wait. One Wednesday afternoon in November, just before class, Justin came by my office to let me know he would be taking my short story class the next semester. I stopped myself before I could say "Great," and, instead, said, "You don't need to take it for your major, do you?"

"No, but I need an elective, and I enjoy having you as a professor." Then he added, "And I noticed you're teaching it on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 2 p.m. again. As long as my work schedule at the fitness center doesn't change, it will be convenient for me."

And so I found out Justin would still be in my life, and fantasies, for at least one more semester.
 

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Justin - Part 7

During the break between the semesters, I found myself missing Justin and looking forward to seeing him in my short story class. His performance in my technical writing class was excellent, almost good enough to earn an A but not quite. He had matured as a writer since he took me for English 102 a few years earlier. Then again, technical writing was not really something that required a great deal of imagination. Instead, it just required students to explain topics in their field in a way that those not in the field could understand. It was an interesting course to teach because it involved students choosing articles to write in more understandable language and being assigned articles outside of their fields to try to write in a way that demonstrated they understood what it was saying.

The short story course would be more interesting because students, especially those who are not focused on writing, are typically not taking the time to craft a work of fiction. Most of them are writing based on their experiences and backgrounds. If Justin did this, it would help me learn a lot more about him. Just thinking that made me feel like a predator...wanting to get inside the mind of this guy. Hell, I had already fantasized about him, so it's not like wanting to learn more about him through his writing was any worse...as long as I made sure the relationship remained professional and I did not give him any special treatment.

It was nice having our older son home for the holidays. His studies in engineering were going well: he had no problems making friends at his new university, and he was even dating someone he had met through one of those friends. He seemed to spend most of his time at home on the phone with her, but you're only young once.

I wondered if Justin had a girlfriend or anyone else in his life. Part of me hoped he did. I had never seen him with anyone, male or female, except when he was talking to one of the other student employees at the fitness center. But if I knew he was interested in women, it would help me realize that there would never be the opportunity for "this" to go anywhere beyond my fantasies. At any rate, it was ridiculous. I am a happily married man with two sons and I am pining for a student of mine who is only slightly older than they are. He's probably not even interested in men and even if he were, why would he be interested in a married one more than twice his age?

But I continued to fantasize about him. I often thought about workouts when he would train me, the way it felt when he put his hand on my shoulder to improve my form, the way he stood over me when he spotted me at the bench press, and the way he would encourage me to do one more rep. I fantasized about him getting a hard-on while he stood over me. When I showered, I would fantasize about him joining me in the shower, the warm water streaming down our bodies while we held each other in a tight embrace and kissed. Rubbing his muscular back and nuzzling his tender neck with my beard. And of course, I would always go back to the massage fantasy.

As usual, the break between semesters flew by and it was back to campus. Because of my writing and ability to get my works published, I was only teaching two sections of my short story writing class this semester, one in the morning and the other in the afternoon. Justin was in the afternoon class, and I planned my workouts to coincide with his work shifts after class. I wondered if he realized that, or if he just thought it was when it was most convenient for me?

Justin continued to mature as a writer. As I suspected, much of his stories were about himself and his family, at least on the assignments that were not directed to a different topic. I learned that he was an only child and a first-generation college student. His father had built his business from nothing, and his mother worked in the business as well. They had worked hard and built a good life and wanted a better life for him. He seemed really appreciative of the opportunities they had provided for him and guilty that he was too immature to appreciate the opportunity during his freshman year. He wrote about how his two years working in his family business had helped him gain that appreciation, especially the first year when he just worked for the family business. He explained that he saved his money so he could pay his own way back to the university and earning his degree as a way of thanking his parents for the opportunity and the valuable life lesson. He discussed the struggles during the second year, working full-time during the day and then taking classes four nights a week. It hardly left any time for anything else, but he knew doing well in these classes would be his best path to getting his GPA high enough to return to the university.

I saw a young man who loved his parents and appreciated all they had done for him. Someone who, at an early age, had realized how he squandered an opportunity and dedicated himself to making up for it. Not only was he a personable and attractive young man, the type anyone would want their son to be, but he was also humble and hard-working.

I didn't understand what I was feeling. Was this a crush, an obsession, or was it possible that I had fallen in love with him?
 

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Justin - Part 8

My short story classes this semester had some of the best students I had ever taught, and it wasn't only because of Justin. Many of these students had taken a freshman writing class with me, and some of them had taken my technical writing course. While some of them were writing majors, most were from various majors and disciplines, including business, the natural and social sciences, and education. They participated in classroom discussions and, in many ways, the course taught itself. All I had to do was give assignments, grade short stories, and, on occasion, lead discussions.

I looked forward to reading Justin's short stories, but I also looked forward to learning more about my other students through their writing and portfolios. The writing majors explored fictional topics in their stories. One of them was developing a portfolio that was a series of stories about a homeless man she always saw near campus, providing insights into who she thought he was and how he came to be homeless. At times, I had tears in my eyes as I would read her stories because it brought home how easily any of us could end up in his situation. On the other hand, I was thrilled that she was able to develop such a rich story about someone she did not know.

Justin's portfolio included a story about a young man who was searching for his life's passion. The young man had graduated from high school and did not know what he wanted to do, so he decided to let life take him where it would. While parts of it needed better development, he did a very good job of crafting a character that the reader would want to know more about. But was it based on him? I couldn't tell.

On a Thursday afternoon about a few weeks before the end of the semester, the university had its annual awards ceremony. I did not usually go to these things, but there were some students I had taught during my first year at the university who were seniors now, and I wanted to see them honored for their accomplishments. There were also awards for the top professors in each department, and I had been told that I should attend because I might win for the English and Writing Department. Sure enough, I did. It was a big honor because it was chosen by a committee of professors in my department and outside of it. It was also validation for changing careers in my mid-40s. My former employer did not go out of business during the financial crisis, but I had found what I was meant to do, and I loved it.

The next day, only about half of the students in my morning class attended. I asked what was happening, and apparently the fraternities, sororities, and other student organizations on campus were having a big event that afternoon and evening. Why had I never noticed this? Maybe I had canceled classes on this Friday in past years and had forgotten about it this year? Whatever the case, I had class with the students who did show up. Between classes, I walked around campus and saw this event really was a big deal. I bumped into a few students from my afternoon class who asked if it was OK to miss class. At that point, what was I going to say? I didn't have an attendance policy: I tried to create a learning environment that students wanted to be a part of. They attended class because they wanted to attend it, not because of any policy that required attendance.

Before my 2 p.m. class, my wife called to let me know she had just picked up our younger son at school and they were driving to her parents' place for the weekend. "If you'd like to go with us, we can wait until after your class." I assured her it was OK to leave, and I had plenty of things to keep me busy. I told her to drive safely and give my best to her parents.

As expected, attendance in my afternoon class was sparse. At 2 p.m. there were only three students: two coeds who were writing majors and another one who was not. I figured that since I had powered through the morning class, I should do the same with the afternoon class. As I started discussing a short story I had assigned to them, one I had written and had published, Justin walked in. "Thanks for joining us, Justin," I said, kind of sarcastically.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said, clearly out of breath and about to explain his reason for being late.

Before he could say anything else, I jokingly said, "I'm kidding!" I pointed to the nearly empty room and said, "It's not like you had any trouble finding an empty seat." That brought a laugh from the other three students and a smile from Justin.

The classroom discussion was not very focused. It was not because the students had not read the story I had assigned to them; they clearly had. It was just difficult to have a meaningful discussion with only four students in the classroom, especially because I had planned to have the students discuss different outcomes in groups of three, as I had that morning. Somehow we managed, and as the end of class approached, one of the students suggested they should get bonus points for attending. I laughed and reminded them that there were no bonus points in our class, and, besides, those who attended didn't really need them. Then one of the others said, "Well, take us out for a beer!"

I had enjoyed beers with colleagues, but drinking with students was a different matter. The more obvious issue was that these were underclassmen, so I said, "You're not 21. You can't drink beer." They laughed, and I added, "OK, not legally."

Justin piped up: "I'm 22!" and with that the three girls suggested we go someplace where I could buy them a soda and Justin a beer.

I wasn't really sure about this, but the idea seemed interesting, but I said, "Wait a minute, Justin, don't you have to work after class?"

"Not today, I'm off until Monday," he said with a broad smile.

"OK, I guess I don't have a choice, but we're going to do this on a few conditions. First, we're going to discuss class-related topics, either your assigned readings or your portfolios. Second, those of you who are under 21 have to stick to soda or something else non-alcoholic. And third," as I turned to Justin, "only one beer for you, young man." It felt kind of empowering to call Justin "young man," but he and the other students agreed to my conditions, and we walked to a bar and grill just off campus.

We placed our orders: beer, a Diet Coke, an iced tea, a water, and a beer for me. Justin got carded, and, for some reason, so did I. As I handed my drivers license to Justin to hand it to the waiter, he scrutinized it and said, "Are you sure this is you?" Then he looked at the waiter and said, "I'm not sure, boss, what do you think?" Everyone had a good laugh at my expense. The picture was about five years old from back when I was working in business. I was wearing a coat and tie, something none of them had ever seen me in, and I didn't have the beard that was obligatory for a writing professor. The waiter smiled and nodded and gave it back to Justin who then handed it back to me.

We made small talk until the beverages came. It was good to talk to my students in a non-academic environment. I had talked to Justin and worked with him in the fitness center, but being able to talk to the four of them outside of the classroom made me feel like they were being more open. They were discussing what they had been writing and their portfolios, what inspired their writing, and the messages they were trying to include in their stories. It was a great discussion, and the time flew by so quickly that I did not even realize it was after 4 until one of the girls excused herself to head back to campus, and the other two followed quickly, leaving only Justin and me at the table.

I was about to summon the waiter for the check when Justin said, "Wait a minute, I should buy you a beer."

"Why?" I asked.

He replied, "When I looked at your driver's license I noticed you just had a birthday last week, so Happy Birthday!"

Hmmm, he looked at my driver's license. Then I realized that, unless he was really bad at math, he knew I had just turned 49. It's not like I had hidden my age or was under any crazy delusions that he didn't realize how old I must be, but it did put everything into perspective. Still, the opportunity to spend some time talking to Justin alone, over a beer, was something I couldn't resist, so I said, "OK, and thank you."

The waiter came over, I settled our tab, and then Justin ordered a beer for me and a coffee for himself. I was impressed that he honored my condition of only one beer for himself. Before the waiter left, Justin looked at him and said, "I don't think you need to see this young man's ID again. He's been 21 for a few years," and they both chuckled. Two laughs at my expense.

The beer and coffee came, and I said, "So Justin, you were pretty quiet earlier when everyone was talking about what they had been writing."

Justin started at the coffee mug and then looked up at me with a serious expression, "Yeah, I don't really like to talk about that with other people."

"Why not?" I asked.

"It's pretty personal," he said. "It's easier to write about it than it is to discuss it."

I nodded and said, "I can understand that, and I can tell that your writing is personal." He nodded back. "So do you have any idea what your life's passion is?" This seemed to catch him off guard. I didn't know if he was surprised that I connected the stories to him or if he was not prepared to discuss it with anyone. When he didn't reply, I said, "I'm sorry I sprung that on you, but I've found that not only does writing about things makes it easier to talk about them, but the opposite is also true."

He still didn't say anything, and I was afraid I might have started picking at a scab or something, so I said, "I'm really sorry I asked that."

Justin looked at me and then looked down again and said, "No, it's OK. It's a fair question, and I'm still trying to figure it out."

I felt a huge sense of relief and said, "Of course you are, and it might take years to figure it out. Some people never figure it out. I never would have found mine if I had not left my job four years ago and started teaching. The really sad thing is that I never would have known what my life's passion was if I had not done that."

Justin looked up at me and said, "I'm glad you did. Otherwise we never would have met."

Did he just say that? What did he mean by it?

He continued, "I mean, I barely scraped through during my first semester, all C's, and I got down on myself. Things didn't get any easier during my second semester, all C's again, except for your class. My folks expected more than a 2.1 GPA my freshman year and I let them down."

"You didn't let anyone down," I told him. "It's tough being away from home as an 18-year-old with all that freedom, nobody to tell you to study or go to class, all those distractions. Look where you are now. You have your priorities straight, you understand what you need to do and you're doing it. You're balancing a full load of classes and a job, and a little more than a year from now, you're going to become the first member of your family to get a college degree. That's quite an accomplishment. I would be very proud of you if you were my son."

Jesus, the dad in me was coming out. Now I felt really weird for having all those fantasies about him and then talking to him as if he were my own son.

"Thank you. That's the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me," he said.

Just then the waiter came back over and asked if we wanted to order some food. Until then, I didn't realize it was after 5, and, as a free-agent for the evening and rest of the weekend, I said, "Sure, how about you, Justin?"

"I've actually gotta hit the road. I am spending the weekend with my parents; dad turns 50 tomorrow and mom's throwing a big party for him," he said with a smile.

Sheesh, I am almost as old as Justin's father. I need to drop this fantasy before I get too deep.

Justin paid for my beer and his coffee, and got up to leave. I got up too, and we walked out. As we walked back toward campus, I said, "Are you sure you're OK to drive?" He said he was, and, just as I had with my wife earlier, I told him to drive safely and give my best to his parents.

He offered his hand and as we shook, he said, "I will, dad," and laughed. Man, this was just getting more and more weird. And, as he walked away, he turned around and said, "Thanks. For everything." I waved back. I was as confused as ever about this situation and what I should do.