Raul and I had been sending flirtatious emails for weeks when I decided to up the ante and show up in front of him in real honest-to-goodness three-dimensional life. Not sure how this could pan out, I dressed as best I could for the occasion: curve hugging skirt, a sheer blouse over a bra-less cami, and black heels. I was fairly certain my clothing passed muster as a few male coworkers paused for an extra beat that day to check me out.
I knew he'd be in his room late because he was killing time before a sporting event that evening, but I waited until the rest of the elective hall had cleared out and the custodians had made their way into the other wings of the school. I didn't want to be interrupted.
Gathering my nerve I grabbed my ID and buzzed myself in at one of the doors that allowed me to bypass the gates to his hallway. I didn't want to ask a custodian to escort me. I didn't need anyone knowing I was there.
Sauntering casually to keep my heels from clicking loudly on the waxed tiles I opened his classroom door and found him behind his desk, as usual, ostensibly surfing the internet.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Gonzalez," I said, keeping my voice low.
A smile crept across his face as he looked up and responded in his soft Spanish accent, "Hello, seΓ±orita. It is always a pleasure to see you."
I glanced around the room. Though I knew this wing was empty, I didn't like that his desk was visible from both doors, so I wandered over to one of the armchairs in the opposite corner of the room.
"Why are you way over there?" he asked.
"These chairs are more comfortable than student desks," I replied.
"That is certainly true," he said, rising from his desk and crossing the room to sit in the other armchair next to mine. The chairs were angled slightly toward each other so our legs nearly touched.
As we made the usual smalltalk sprinkled here and there with racy suggestions, I pulled my legs up onto the chair beside me, the slit on the side of my skirt revealing a little extra leg. His glance told me he noticed, so I shifted my weight a little more and recrossed my legs, giving him a quick glimpse of the tiny strip of fabric that passed for panties.
He stopped midsentence and I wondered if he forgot what he was saying.
"You did that on purpose," he accused, his tone soft and quiet.
"Did what?" I asked.