Mrs. LaFave was a history teacher at my school. At 29, she was the youngest teacher at my school, and was well liked by everyone. Especially the guys. She was extremely beautiful, with long, straight brown hair and a very petite body. I had thought about her many times while masturbating. In fact, she was my number two jackoff fantasy, second only to one girl, which I will explain in a few moments. I had started writing seriously a year before, in eleventh grade, and a lot of my stories were history-based, including a series based during the Norman conquest of England. I had told her about them, and she was interested in reading them, so I would drop off a couple to her, and she'd read them. Once finished, she'd tell me what she liked or didn't like, where I'd made historical mistakes (I liked having accuracy in my stories), or things that just seemed stupid. During this time, I was going through the usual high school troubles. Paramount among these troubles (at least for me) was a girl I'd been head over heels for for quite some time. However, as is usually the case with a guy like me (the quiet, shy, scared of women kind), she either didn't know I existed or simply didn't give a shit. One day while talking to Mrs. LaFave about my latest story, I was particularly distraught. I had actually talked to the girl the night before, and the usual "Let's be friends" talk had occurred. Mrs. LaFave asked me what was wrong.
"It's just some personal stuff," I replied.
"Something's pretty wrong," she said. "I can tell. And I'm worried. I think you should talk to someone." Apparently, I gave off the air that I was about to put the .303 my uncle had given me under my chin. I quickly realized she was thinking this.
"No!" I said upon realization. "No, it's not what you think. I mean, I had thought about that...but...no. It's not for me." A look of relief came upon her face. I sighed. "Ok. Here it is. There's this girl. You know her. Laura Rodgers, in your first period." She nodded. "Well, she and I have known each other for a while. At least ten years. I've had a huge crush on her for most of that time. I didn't tell her about it until recently, though. She's been kinda off and on about whether we will go out, and since I'm a pansy I just let it keep going on. Well, last night, I had the 'let's be friends' speech. I'm still kinda messed up about it."
"Oh. Well, there's plenty of girls out there, you know."
"Yeah, I know. It just seems that none of them are even remotely interested in me. I'm not some conceited jackoff who beats on his girlfriend and cheats on her, so they aren't interested."
"That's not what a woman wants," she said.
"Well, based upon everything I've seen, it is."
"Then you're not looking at the right girls." Neither of us said anything for a little while. I was standing next to her desk. She suddenly stood and moved towards me. Before I could say anything, her face was just in front of mine, and getting closer. I felt her lips meet mine. I kissed her for a few seconds, not quite realizing what was happening. When I did finally realize, I backed away, quickly.
