Academia is a hotbed of--well--hot beds. And other available surfaces.
I first became aware of that in Graduate School, when it was common knowledge that several of my more ambitious female peers were trolling after their professors--and snagging them. My own experiences involved an Arab wannabe stud who tried to corner me in my carrel and an eminent Indian scholar who got drunk and attempted to kiss me.
When I started teaching, my officemate dumped her old boyfriend for a higher ranking professor and asked me to handle the loser's phone calls. Nothing like being on the inside track. The new guy's wife was mad.
Of course, there's always the danger of someone walking in at an inappropriate time. I know of two public school principals who got--uh--nailed that way. And then there was the principal who, when he was en dishabille, got his trousers snatched by the young teacher he was attempting to become better acquainted with and had to be escorted across the street to the administration building wrapped in a raincoat.
And then I think of the anthropologists who maintain there was no sexual contact between CroMagnons and Neanderthals. Yeah, sure.
Where there is propinquity, sex happens.