Hot For Teacher(31)

Staying behind the podium as some of my students file out, I call, “Edith Willows, I need to speak with you for a moment, please.” Brat keeps walking like she doesn’t hear me. “Miss Willows.” I use my most authoritative voice and watch her stop, standing in the doorway as students brush past her. She takes a step back and I can see her thin, skin-tight jeans lovingly molding to her ass. Guess I’m staying behind the podium, I thought, taking a deep breath.

“Y-yes?” She turns toward me, slowly walking over to where I am. Time had generously filled Edith out in all the right places, and circumstances seemed to have molded her, as well. I notice her hair is a lot longer, and she is wearing it in a thick braid that makes me think of wrapping it around my hand and holding her down as I take her from behind. If I am going to get through the next few weeks, I need to stop thinking about her ass. This podium is going to be my new best friend. In fact, I really need to get a handle on that image because I can see my dominant bedroom behaviors coming out and getting me fired.

“Miss Willows, it’s nice to see you again.” Very nice indeed, I thought. I sway my hips behind the podium a little, trying not to make it obvious I need to adjust things below.

“Sure. Yeah, I guess. I didn’t know you taught here.” Edith pushes her braid back, the tail of it catches over her shoulder, letting the length touch the top of her breast. Edith is average in height, but there is a vulnerability I sense in her. I both like it and hate it, which confuses me.

“Only when the dean asks to me to step in. I’d hoped to teach full-time someday.” But you, you little beauty, ruined me for it, my brain echoes.

“Maybe you will. Uh, what’s this about?” Edith says, cutting to the point. I want to draw this out, but a few of the other students are lingering and want my attention. Probably to see how they can improve their grades, but not Edith. I sense she can’t wait to dart out of here like a deer.

“It’s come to my attention your grade is close to being under the threshold for scholarship students. This class is primary to your major. You’ll have to improve your grade to above…,” I glance back down at the paper with her name on it, “well, above a seventy-five percent average.”

“I know. I’ll study harder for the quizzes. I’m on the waitlist for a tutor. Thanks for letting me know.” Edith backs up before I can say more and leaves the classroom as I anticipated. Other students then crowd my podium and ask me several questions as I watch her slip out the door, her shoulders a bit more hunched, her ratty-looking patchwork bag slung over her shoulder.





Chapter Three


Edith

“Damn it.” I slam my books down on the table of the booth in the diner I’m meeting Aiden and Shelby at before I go to work.

“Wow. Who pissed in your Cheerios, sunshine?” Aiden looks up from the menu, trying not to crack a smile, his arm around Shelby.

“Jack Hamilton,” I say, leaning back and looking out the window into the blinding sun. I’m hoping the rays will scorch my eyeballs and I will never have to take another Statistics quiz again.

“Ooh… I know who that is!” Shelby leans over and pokes me in the boob, getting my attention.

“Hey!” I hiss. Only Shelby can get away with that. We never did the whole freshmen “experimentation” because I’m not into girls and definitely not as liberal as her. It is just Shelby being Shelby.

Aiden just looks mortified and grabs her hand in his so she can’t assault me again. “Is this, like, girl stuff? I can leave and come back later if you want,” Aiden says, looking desperate.

“Don’t be stuffy, Aiden. Mr. H. is the stuff of Edie’s wet dreams!” Shelby declares, loud enough for another table of students to look over at us.

Cue mortification. “Shhhh!” I glare at Shelby, who just smiles and shrugs before giving Aiden a peck on his cheek to let him know he can stay. “I don’t get you two, at all,” I say, taking a long drink from my glass of water.

“So…who is Mr. H.?” Aiden probes, taking a sip of his coffee, holding his pinkie out. Earlier last year, Shelby tried to instruct him on the proper way to drink coffee, but damn if he doesn’t do it just to annoy her. Some might think Aiden is batting for the other team, but Shelby and I know it was his super strict, rule-making parents that drilled these things into him. I fake the etiquette garbage because I don’t know a dessert spoon from a tea spoon.

“Mr. H. is Edith’s wet dream,” Shelby says out loud…again. My god, I want to kill this girl, best friend or not.