Hot For Teacher(120)

Constantly thinking about how to get in a girl’s pants is pretty damn exhausting. And it was nice relating to a girl in a way that had nothing to do with getting her naked.

Not saying I didn’t want to see Arleen naked.

Because I did. But I also liked talking to her too.

Huh.

Interesting.





Chapter Eight


Number Five: The Maserati GranTurismo

February 30, 2014 (Six months ago)

Tricia is what I considered the Maserati GranTurismo—the mother of all beasts. Complete with a six-speed sequential transaxle and shock absorbers, this girl was freaky fast. Well, at least the freaky part.

She had definitely come prepared, and wore a black pleather corset under her sweater. Her blond hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and her lips were stained dark red. I suppose I should’ve been a little more observant of the situation when a set of handcuffs fell from her backpack, but I was still a bit naïve when it came to this lifestyle.

What started out as a simple debate research study date ended up with a red tennis ball and gimp mask. Shit, I don’t even want to know what she did to my dick that night, but thank God there were no piercings or tattoos involved.

There was no long-term damage to my body, but my psyche is still trying to recover.

She had my clothes off in record time, and my wrists were tied to the bedposts. From my research on subs and doms, she had the whole thing a little mixed up. Then again, I wouldn’t exactly call myself an expert. This was definitely a first.

It was all a bit emotionally scarring, so I’d prefer not to rehash the details. But of all the girls on my list, Tricia was the one that I felt absolutely no remorse for never contacting again after that night.





Chapter Nine


I feel like I need to apologize.

Weird, right?

But I want to find Arleen and tell her that I’m not normally in the habit of word vomiting all over people I barely know. That I can be a good listener too. That I’m not into one-sided friendships where it’s all about me.

With the mystery growing of who she is and why she’s here, I know she’s got a story. And yet I went on and on about all my shit, and never gave her a chance to spill hers.

I search for her at school. I check the library and cafeteria. After coming up empty-handed, I stay close to the doors, looking at every face that enters the building.

But the first period warning bell rings and I still haven’t seen her.

“Simon?”

I turn to my name.

Miss Shields.

I can feel my eyebrow arch as my body goes on an autopilot of suaveness: My shoulders relax. My stance shifts. And my hand goes up to my hair to sweep it backward.

“Hey, Miss Shields.” I say her name softly.

“May I speak to you for a moment?” She gives me a tight smile.

My jaw tightens as I smirk, lifting my thumb to graze my cheek. “After you.”

She’s in jeans today. Tight, dark blue jeans. Normally I would be ogling her fantastic ass as I walked behind her. But now, I barely spare it a glance.

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you about Saint Louis. The tournament is in one month, and we have to make all the final sleeping arrangements with the team in the hotel,” she says quietly.

Her words surprise me. Is she asking me what I think she’s asking me? “And what did you have in mind?”

She laughs and scratches her head. “We have three extra students this year that we didn’t have last year, which makes our count uneven.” She licks her lips a little nervously. “It looks like someone will need to room alone.”

She takes her hair down, and shivers start at my calves and swiftly make their way to my crotch. Sitting on her chair, she bends over to tousle her hair before flipping it back upright. Damn, I love it when she does that shit.

“Well, if you wanted to room alone, that’s fine. But I’m going to make sure that the room adjoins mine—you know, just to make sure there’s no funny business going on. I was a teenager once myself.”

Fuck! Did I hear her right? Was she actually offering to put me in a room next to hers? With a door where we could go between them without being seen?

I knew it. This whole time it wasn’t just in my head. Miss Shields wants me.

But there’s something missing in my reaction to this news. I’m not as excited as I thought I’d be.

But I find myself nodding. “Yeah, I can definitely do that.”

“Good, it’s settled then.” She smiles. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…” A stack of papers sits on her desk and she points to it. “I have some packets and brochures from colleges here. I can write you a letter of recommendation. With your debate team experience and grades, you shouldn’t have a problem getting into any of them.”