The Teacher and the Virgin(11)

“I promised I’d cook us dinner. That way, we can avoid the noise and the prying eyes.”

“And the foreplay…we can’t do that in public,” I had to add. I’d been so quiet until now I didn’t want him to think I was regretting coming over. It was all I wanted.

“Oh, Jane…” He shook his head; the smile was back on his face again. “I have so many things to teach you…”

I wanted to ask him questions, but he went into the kitchen. Exactly what could I expect? We can do foreplay and sex in public? I made a mental note to look for porn videos in public places. I realized there was tons I needed to educate myself on, but hey, if I was going to study, I’d pick sex education any day over Math or English.

The delicious scent of Italian distracted me and I went into the kitchen and watched Mr. Parker carefully pull a tray of lasagna from the oven.

“Mr. Parker, that looks delicious.”

“Just call me Gregory,” he said with a wink. “But don’t tell your classmates that.”

My heart jumped. I could call him by his first name? None of my friends could do that.

“Ex-classmates.” I matched his grin with one of my own. “I graduated yesterday, remember?”

I watched Mr. Parker – Gregory – shake his head as he kept the smile to himself. “Of course. How can I forget what we did?”

I felt a surge of warmth all over my body, from my chest to my pussy. I didn’t need to ask him to explain. We were thinking the same thing. That moment in his classroom was just too good to ever forget. I breathed out heavily; I didn’t need to worry so much. He didn’t look like he was going to run the other way anytime soon.

“Can I help with anything?” I asked.

A large part of me hoped he would say “no.” I was almost useless in the kitchen since my parents hired a full staff to run the house, from cooking to doing the laundry and gardening. I didn’t want to think it, but I suddenly felt embarrassed for living such a spoiled life. I hoped Mr. Parker wouldn’t think differently of me if he realized I was spoiled and could do almost nothing around the house. “I can handle the drinks.”

“Shh,” came his quick response. “You’re my guest. There’s garlic bread in the oven. I prepared it a while ago for us. Just sit down and make yourself comfortable.” I gave him a nod. “You can go to the living room and find something to watch. I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Okay.” I knew better than not to listen to him. When Mr. Parker wanted something, he got it. Having me over wasn’t an exception now that I was out of his classroom.

In a few minutes, he joined me with plates of lasagna and bread. My stomach grumbled when the smell wafted past my nose, and I felt my mouth start to water.

He placed the plates on the coffee table before he headed back to the kitchen. When I turned around to wonder what he was doing, he returned with a bottle of soda and two glasses in hand. He poured our drinks and then settled comfortably on the couch right beside me. Our thighs brushed against each other, and I couldn’t help the way my heart skipped a beat and my nipples tightened. He just had that effect on me.



“Are your parents alright with you being out at night?” he then asked.

Being almost a decade younger than he was, my defenses went up. “I’m eighteen already.”

He smiled at me, then glanced down at my body and replied with a murmured, “I know”.

I calmed down at that before I said, “They’re in Europe…have been for the past week.”

“Hmm…I thought so.” When I raised an eyebrow up at him, he continued, “Anne and your other friends had congratulatory flowers while…you…”

“Had nothing…I had nothing,” I finished and watched as he nodded in agreement.

Before the mood could turn any more negative, he let out a cough and steered the conversation in a different direction.

“So what are your college plans?”

I widened my eyes, both at the fact that he was halfway done with his food and that he was asking me questions. Real questions, about me. Not about how wet my pussy was or if I was wearing a bra.

I thought he was just after sex with me, a virgin, so why were we actually talking? Not that I was complaining. I definitely wasn’t. In truth, it made me like him even more. He actually wanted to talk to me, a girl who barely knew anything about the world. He didn’t look down on me. Could he get any more perfect?

Over the rest of dinner, I told him of my plans to attend the local college. All the while, I maintained eye contact, realizing I’d never tire of looking at those caramel brown eyes.