"And how do we calculate the cosine, class?"
Mara James' question rang out down the aisles filled with the twenty students in her calculus class at St. Bernard's Academy, ricocheted off the dusty back wall of her humid classroom, and deflected back into her own ears, unanswered and utterly ignored by her daydreaming students. The only sound she heard besides the usual fidgeting in creaky desks and light tapping of pens and pencils was a stifled but audible giggle. It was coming from the back left corner of the classroom. There, bathed in sunlight from the only window not covered by a hideous green shade, was the chatty petite looker of the class, one Christina Aguilera, uncontrollably giddy from a flippant one-liner she'd just tossed across the aisle to her gal pal Mandy.
Christina held a transparent Bic pen one inch in front of her smile, as if that would be sufficient enough to hide her delinquency from Mara. Her hair, carefully dyed a brilliant shade of blond, a color almost matching Mara's natural hew, jiggled back and forth in the light, held back by a crimson red ponytail. Her rich, yellowish skin was highlighted by the sun too, Mara noticed. Her blue eyes twinkled, her thin, unique nose crinkled, and her lips, glossed a light pink, continued to grin, Christina's tongue making a brief appearance at the side of her mouth, salivating over Mandy's obvious enjoyment of her joke. Christina's lithe figure, clothed in a mandatory plaid uniform of gray, black and yellow, swayed gently against her desktop. Mara found herself admiring the view for a split second - a split second too long - and composed herself with a frown and a tap of her wooden pointer onto the classroom floor.
"Math is a real riot as usual, eh, Miss Aguilera?" Christina slowly turned towards Mara, a deer in the headlights, while Mandy bolted up in her chair, pretending Mara could only keep one student in her sights at a time. The rest of the young teens, only now catching on with their swift American brains, turned to glare accusingly at the blond beauty.
"No, Miss James."
"Well then, I assume you know the answer to my previous question." Mara didn't feel comfortable yet when interrogating "rotten apples." The pressure of the confrontation and the muggy April afternoon was getting to her. She could feel a bead of sweat trickle down her own young, ample cleavage underneath her pink tweed sweater.
"Cosine," Mandy whispered quickly to a clueless Christina, then sat upright again. Christina felt all eyes on her and tried desperately to find the right mental nugget, her silky smooth face contorted into several concentrated wrinkles.
"Cosine," she repeated. "Ohhhhhh. Ohhhhhh-ooo-ohhhhhh! I KNOW I know this! It involves the tangent....or something. Right?" Christina flashed a smile at Mara that pleaded for approval, but all she received in return as the loud end-of-the-school-day alarm rang was a disappointed smirk from her teacher and snickers from her fellow students.
"See me after class, please," Mara said to Christina firmly over the alarm's ringing, setting off a chain of "Ooooooh"s from the exiting students and a helpless shrug from Mandy as she slowly left the room and headed for volleyball practice. Christina sat motionless for a moment, slumped over in defeat. Mara stood for several seconds and observed this behavior. It wasn't long ago - only five years, in fact - that she, too, was a carefree, buxom high school senior, flirting, goofing and failing her way through more than one class. But never math. Everyone has their meal ticket, as boring as others might find it. For Mara James, it was cosines and tangents.
The 22-year-old teacher looked at the downtrodden young choir girl in front of her, who had now propped her elbows up on her desk, running her damp hands across her flushed cheeks. Mara looked below. Christina's legs had parted, revealing a pair of blue cotton panties under her plaid skirt, with some sort of embroidery in the middle of her crotch. Maybe flowers. Maybe fruit. Maybe a cartoon character. Mara couldn't tell due to the distance and the shadows. Suddenly, she reminded herself that she shouldn't be aware of this information AT ALL. She walked towards the open wooden classroom door, her youthful, long legs brushing against her flowing skirt of gray silk as she walked, and closed the door with a minimal slam.
Christina had heard the movement of Mara's black high heels against the cold tile and picked her head up, expecting to see Mara advancing towards her and not the door. She drank in the view of her teacher's back and side. It was almost as if the woman was trapped in the 50's, what, with that sweater and her long golden hair cropped up in a checkered scrunchie. Christina knew Miss James would've been one hot number at the drive-in, though. What amazingly perky tits, she thought, as the staid young tutor swung the door shut. Christina instinctively peered down at her own smaller breasts, covered by that damn itchy plaid blouse and white shirt. If she was ever going to be as famous as she hoped, she thought, a boob job just might be the ticket. A real shame, since Christina was personally proud of the body God gave her.
Sometimes, Christina thought Miss James would stare at her through her wire-rimmed glasses a little longer than the other lay teachers, even the decrepit, horny old men who taught her Chemistry and German. Christina really needed a big improvement in Calculus if she was to graduate on schedule in two months. A devious smile crossed her face, then quickly disappeared as soon as Mara turned around. Although she wasn't a stranger to dick, Christina had a secret, unsatisfied craving for pussy, and an emphatic A+ for effort where Miss James was concerned just might get her the passing math grade she needed. It certainly wouldn't be all work and no play.
Christina remained seated solemnly at the rear of the room, as Mara silently sat down behind her large wooden desk at the front of the class. Mara liked having Christina around, sometimes for reasons more impure than she let on, but today her thoughts were already on her sister's surprise birthday party that evening. All she wanted to do was give Christina a good scolding and a mathematical pep talk, and be out to her car within minutes. More dedicated teaching and lusty thoughts would have to wait for another day. Mara blinked her inquisitive green eyes, puckered her siren red lips tentatively, and sighed at her statuesque student.
"Do you think I'm coming to you, Christina? Get up here, please."
The girl obeyed, sliding out of her desk contritely, but careful to let her skirt ride up above her bare, moist thighs for the longest of seconds. Once upright, she bent over to pick up her knapsack, her skirt flying high yet again, the crack of her tight, tiny behind shielded by only those flimsy panties. Mara quickly licked her lips and cupped her right breast. Little did she know that Christina saw the fleeting movement as she peered between her legs. Christina stood up again, slinging the olive-colored sack over her shoulder, clutching the pen in her right hand, and walked towards Mara's desk with a neutral expression. She let her body do all the talking instead. When she walked, and her black clods clicked against the floor, the muscles in her bare, sculpted dancer's legs created sinful curves, the light rustling of her skirt against her ass could be heard, and her perpetually happy teen titties bounced up and down ever so slightly with each stride. Christina didn't yet believe in using bras on a regular basis. Mara had taken note of this months ago. Christina broke into a seemingly casual, secretly come-hither stance when she got to Mara's desk, actually placing the pen, followed by her small, perfectly manicured hands on the desk's edge and leaning over a centimeter or two.
"Listen, Miss James," she started warmly, "I'm realllllly sorry I disrupted class again. I'll try harder, I promise."
Mara was straddling the delicate line between attentive and entranced. The girl let "promise" glide off her tongue and aligned her beautiful lips into a slight smile that asserted maturity. She let her right leg wag back and forth behind her as her turquoise-painted nails dug a bit further into the teacher's desktop. Her nose pointed to the door and her eyes looked down with friendly sincerity. Mara knew that Christina's pledge wouldn't be enough to let her off the hook. What she didn't know was that Christina knew that, too.
"You keep saying you'll try, you'll try, you'll try," the teacher said slowly, battling the horniness within. "I've seen other students try less, Christina, but among students in your grade predicament, I have certainly seen many try a lot harder. When is your effort going to kick in around here? It's almost as if you don't have life figured out, as if you're clueless where you want life to take you."
Christina, as planned, pulled back from the desk at this point, but Mara's words stung her a little deeper than she had anticipated.
"I do too have an idea, Miss James," she shot back, picking up her pen once more. "I want to be a professional singer." Christina scratched an imaginary itch on her lower thigh with the end of the pen and trailed the pen up and away, pulling the flap of her skirt up to show a little more crotch for a second or two. Mara couldn't help but look down, causing Christina to smile before she looked up at the girl again. The embroidery was two purple roses.
"Yes, I know," Mara said as she remembered the previous year's school talent show. "You're beautiful.........when you sing. A beautiful singer. But you have to learn some basic skills in case life throws you a curve ball."
Christina swayed like a pendulum, from what Mara thought were nerves. "I've got, like, plenty of basic skills, Miss James." She ran her hands down her sides and darted her feet in and out, losing her fight against a sudden urge to start dancing. She looked straight into Mara's thoroughly interested eyes. "I know what I need to know."
"Hah," Mara couldn't help chortling at the girl's self-confidence. "What is it that you know and I don't? Enlighten me, Christina." Bingo. Christina swooped down upon this opportunity and turned to slide into a desk in the classroom's front row.
"OK, Teach," she began, brazen all of a sudden. "I know that you're crying out on the inside. Whether you know it or not, want to admit it or not, you're just like me. You're young. You're hot. You want something more than teaching in this shitty dump."
"Christina!" Mara exclaimed, mindful of the crucifix on the wall but much more excited by the truths pouring out of this little kitten's mouth. Christina was in control now, grinning like a Cheshire cat, swiftly running her radiant pink tongue against the length of her gleaming pen. Mara felt her panties get wet in record time, and a hand disappeared underneath her desk.
