I laugh and see how beautiful her smile is. “Well, I suppose I should but I’m not just any normal teacher. I guess I tell students how it is but I probably shouldn’t in the school’s academic eyes.” She laughs, and I swear my cock strained against my jeans at the beautiful sound. “Okay, look here….” I point to the page she has things highlighted on and go over a few things with her. Relishing at the closeness of her body when she moves next to me, and her unique smell invading my senses. I have to work really hard to concentrate on what I’m saying. We end up talking for an hour, and she even said I helped her, but she still feels useless at Calculus. I watch her walk off and feel like I’ve finally found someone I want to get to know, share my music with and maybe even my life. What the hell? How can I feel that way so quickly? I’ve never believed in fate or instant love but there’s just something about her, something that has me mesmerized and wanting to know her better. However, as a teacher, I know I can’t let it go any further. Although as a man, I hope the school year flies by since I know this is her last year of school, and I want nothing more than to take her out. This is gonna be the longest school year of my young teaching life.
Chapter Two
I didn’t think Friday would ever get here! Lunch was…. More than interesting and I found it so hard to concentrate on his words as he tried to help me. His scent was rugged and manly, and his eyes seemed to look deep into my soul as he spoke. A teacher, figures. I finally find a guy that not only is hot and sexy but music is his love. There’s no chance in hell I can even think about wanting a relationship when society’s rules dictate you can’t have one with a teacher. Just my bad luck!
I tried to take a short nap after classes but as usual my mind wouldn’t let me sleep. I get up, take a hot shower, shave and lotion down, and then get on the half skanky shirt the bar makes us wear. After braiding my long hair so it lays over the front of my shoulder, I apply light makeup for the evening. I have to admit I’m getting a little excited to hear this new band tonight since Randy won’t shut up about them. He thinks they’re the next hit of the world and thinks he’s gonna rake in a small fortune this weekend. Good, maybe he’ll give me the raise he’s been promising me for two years now. Yeah, I’m sure that will happen.
“Yo! Burke!” He looks over at me from the front door and nods. “Number two keg needs to be changed!” He nods again says something to the other bouncer, whose name I always forget, and walks over to the bar. I finish washing glasses and am wiping my hands off on a rag when people start coming in. “Hey, what can I getcha?” I ask a couple of girls who sat down on the stools at the counter. They barely tell me their orders as they chat and giggle. I start filling their beer glasses when my ears zone into their conversation.
“He’s so freaking HOT. I hope that bitch doesn’t show up tonight. She got on my last nerve at the last bar they played. She thinks she’s all that, and he doesn’t even look at her.” My eyes shift to her loud gum popping and twirling of her hair and I try not to roll my eyes.
“I know! And she tried to get up on the stage and had to be carried out, screaming and kicking her legs. What a whore. We all know he only has eyes for you anyway. He always sings your favorite song, looks into your eyes, and all the bitches are just green with envy.”
I bring over the beers, set them down in front of them and take their money. Great! Another fucking hottie who is full of himself and lives for all the girls’ attention. There went my hope for some good music tonight.
Pretty soon, I start to get slammed and the other bartender, Trevor, and I have a hard time keeping up with orders. I look up as I pour a beer and see the place is more packed than it’s ever been. Well, at least they’re good for business if nothing else. “Here you go. That’ll be twelve-fifty.” The guy hands me his credit card, and I walk over to the POS system punch in the figures and swipe his card. I hear instruments behind me starting up as I grab his receipt and walk over handing it to him with his card. “What do you need?” I yell as the band’s music begins to play and the women in the crowd start screaming. The girl in front of me turns her head towards the stage, and I scream out again at the customer. “What’s your order?” A familiar voice speaks into the microphone, and I freeze, hand ready to tap the girl’s shoulder. I look out through the crowd and up on the stage. Oh, my freaking God. There with his hand holding the microphone stand, a guitar strap over his shoulder and the guitar hanging down his side, wearing a white wife-beater and black tight jeans, is none other than my music teacher, Mr. Tyler. What in all of God’s holy name is he doing here?