Thou Shalt Not(41)

“I have two copies at the house. Come by after work sometime tonight and I’ll let you borrow one.”

“Are you sure your husband won’t mind if I stopped by?”

“He won’t be home.”

And with that, she smiled and walked into the lunchroom.





I went back to my classroom before lunch ended, mostly wanting to get out of the loud, smelly lunchroom. A large group of the kids had P.E. before lunch, and some days they smelled so much worse afterwards than others.

I think I had overheard one of the students bitching about having to run a mile. If you mix teenagers who somehow still don’t all understand the concept of body odor or the blessing that is deodorant with the salty, humid air that Florida is famous for, you get an olfactory nightmare.

I opened up a book to read, and immediately felt gravity want to pull my eyelids to the ground. The death couch began to call to me.

I took my thumb and forefinger and tried to pull my eyelids open as wide as they would go, hoping this would jolt my brain into realizing I needed to stay awake.

This afternoon was undoubtedly going to drag by, and it was going to suck.

My eyes may or may not have closed for a moment or two when I heard the classroom door open. The sound seemed to come from a faraway land and jolted me upright.

“April,” I said, hoping she hadn’t realized I was dozing.

Who was I kidding? I was sure she had.

“Luke,” she said, walking toward my desk.

It was more of a saunter, and it was slightly sensual.

Maybe it seemed that way in my head. But, April looked even sexier than she had earlier in the day when I had entertained my teacher fantasy.

Her lipstick was a fierce red, and it matched her fingernails. I hadn’t noticed them earlier, only her lips. But now, the red seemed more vibrant. It stood out against her pale skin.

And I could have sworn she had undone one of the buttons of her white blouse.

Damn, I think I might be waking up.

“Did the putrid pupils run you from the lunchroom too?”

“No,” she said, stopping at one of the student’s desks and placing her hand down on it. “I actually lost most of my sense of smell as a child.”

My face surely registered shock.

“Oh my god, seriously?” I asked, unable to hide my incredulity. “I’m so sorry.”

Stupid, insensitive me. Always chewing on my feet.

April just stood there for a moment, looking a little sad and contemplative.

Then she started laughing.

“Of course I’m not serious,” she said. “Those kids smelled like rotting fish.”

I just shook my head and ignored the fact that she made me feel guilty about her little ruse.

“We have tried to start a petition to keep the kids from having to run miles before defiling the lunchroom. No such luck yet.”

“Well, you will absolutely have my signature on that petition,” she said. “But, I will need a pen to sign it. Which brings me to the reason I’m here. I need to borrow a pen.”

Nice segue.

“First you try to mock my sense of compassion, and now you want to borrow my stuff??”

More head shaking.

I scoured my desk for an acceptable pen. I had a habit of chewing pens and pen caps, when I didn’t have toothpicks available.

I couldn’t see a single good pen on my desk.

I opened up the drawer and searched. Nothing.

There was a table behind my desk, mostly covered in papers. I turned around in my chair to look there.

Finally, I found a Bic that appeared to be untouched by my teeth. It actually looked new.

But what a boring fucking pen. I was mildly embarrassed. As a teacher, I took a little pride in the supplies I had in my room. I always seemed to find cool versions of everyday classroom items. My stapler looked like the skull of a T-Rex, mostly because I was obsessed with Jurassic Park.

And, now, the prettiest woman in the building was asking me for a pen, and the best I was going to be able to give her was a boring-ass Bic.

“This is all I’ve got,” I said, turning back toward her. “It’s just this stupid...”

April’s hands were resting on the front of my desk, and she was leaning over it toward me. She had absolutely unbuttoned one of her top buttons, and her shirt hung open slightly. I could see down her blouse, the tops of her breasts visible. I couldn’t have resisted staring even if there had been a gun to my head. I’m sure my eyes got big. And I was sure she noticed.

“A stupid what?” she said, lowering herself onto her arms, giving me an even better look had I been looking.

Which I obviously was.

“Uh, just this plain Jane Bic,” I said, forcing myself to look at her face.

God, her lips were amazing. I wanted her red lips on every part of my body.