Walking into her classroom was like walking into a memory. It had been ten years since I was a student seated two rows from the front, my eyes intently studying the sway of hips as she paced back and forth lecturing on subjects I can now scarcely remember. Yet the only noticeable difference was that everything seemed smaller, a change caused not by any actual alteration, but by the fact that at twenty-three I was no longer a little boy. The same sweet vanilla scent permeated the room. The same boisterous posters and drawings adorned the wall. And I felt those same butterflies in my stomach when I saw her seated at her desk.
It took her a second to recognize me after I walked in, but when she did that same bright smile emerged on her lips. Even ten years later it still made me feel warm. "Darren Gray? Oh my god, I can't believe its you," she exclaimed as she rose from her desk and walked over to me. While no longer the fresh faced twenty-five year old of adolescent dreams she still retained a sparkle in her eye which added a girlish feistiness to her fine facial features. And even the oversized, bright red sweatshirt covering her torso, couldn't conceal her magnificent curves. It was easy to see why I was so infatuated with her as a kid.
"Mrs. Brently, I couldn't resist stopping in to see you," I said as I watched her approach. Her frame wasn't as trim as it once was and as she came closer I could see on her face the strain of teaching thirteen year olds for ten years, but to point out those slight imperfections wasn't to claim that she was still anything but undeniably beautiful.
She gave me a quick hug, and I couldn't help but feel a slight thrill at the touch of her full breasts, the same ones I had I had tried to imagine naked a thousand times, pressed against my chest. "What brings you back for a visit?" she asked looking me directly in the eye. Even more than the feel of her body, the way she looked at me set my mind racing. It was a look I recognized immediately as the look given by a woman attracted by what she sees.
"You mean other than seeing my favorite teacher?" I responded with a long rehearsed line. It worked just as I hoped it would; she smiled in response, even blushing slightly. "I'm volunteering as a mentor for one of the students here."
"One of my students?"
"No, I'm afraid he isn't as lucky as I was,"
"You're too kind," there was a bit of an awkward pause, "Well you look really good, I can't believe that you are the same shy, skinny little kid whose only wish was to become a fireman," she said nervously moving a few strands of hair away from her face with her left hand, a hand unadorned by a ring.
"Thanks, you look pretty good yourself."
"Me? Please, I probably look like a mess," she replied smoothing out her clothing.
"Not at all, I bet all the boys in your class are still crazy about you."
"And what makes you think that?"
"Well, I was one of those boys and you look as good now as you did back then."
She gave me an almost shocked look, "You certainly aren't shy anymore, are you?" she commented. "So did you realize your dream?" she asked in an attempt to change the subject. "Are you the fearless firefighter that you always wanted to be?"
"Ha," I laughed, "No, I'm afraid that dream died a while ago."
"So what do you do?"
"Well, I just graduated college about a year ago. I'm managing a bar with a buddy of mine while we work on developing a video game."
"Videogames, huh? One of those ultra-violent blood fests that my students like to play?"
"Not really, it is more of a puzzle game. It is based on a little game that we developed in college."
"Sounds interesting, you'll have to show me it when you finish."
"If you're computer is hooked up to the net I can show you the original game right now."
"Sure,"
I entered our site and downloaded the game onto her computer. "The idea of the game is to create patterns out of these blocks. The music lets you know if you're on the right path or not."
"So you have to listen to the music to see if you're putting the pieces in the right position?"
"Exactly."
"Actually sounds pretty educational."
"Well, don't let the kids know that."
She gave a healthy laugh at the joke as she sat down in the chair. I leaned over her to click the start button. I could tell she was holding her breath as I was only inches from her face. I could also tell that she was closely examining my face. Before pulling away I turned my head to her, my lips only inches from hers, "Are you ready?" I asked and from the flush of her face I could tell she heard both questions. Finally, I leaned back and I could hear her slowly exhale.
The game started and she easily moved the first few pieces to the right spot, but as the pace of the game increased she quickly lost the rhythm and the music went quickly off key, "Here let me help," I said placing my hand over her hand on the mouse. I could feel her eyes fall immediately upon my large hand covering her delicate fingers.
She was obviously distracted by my touch, but steadily as I fixed her mistakes and the music harmonize once again she turned her attention back to the game, "I get it now," she exclaimed. Her hand squirmed to regain control of the mouse. I relinquished my control drawing my hand up her arm and placing it on her shoulder.
Enthralled by the game she finished the song, "That's actually a lot of fun, although I better watch myself I might get addicted." she said smiling up at me.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it."
She stood up from the chair, "Well... I better get going," I said after a moment of awkward silence. I was tempted to make a move right there, her eyes were practically begging me to, but the timing seemed off.
"Yeah I guess so," she responded breaking the gaze between us. "I hope you stop by again. I mean whenever you volunteer here," she added trying to step back from the interest her first sentence conveyed.
"I'll be here every Wednesday," I responded casually.
"Good I'll see you on Wednesday then."
I showed up around the same time the following Wednesday. Unfortunately, she wasn't alone this time. It looked like a mother of one of her students was meeting with her. While I was disappointed to see the other person there I was happy to see that Mrs. Brently had obviously dressed up for me. Nothing too provocative for a seventh grade English teacher, but still sexy; a knee length black skirt and a form fitting red blouse. Her hair was stylishly done, lustrous waves of auburn hair, and whereas she was wearing almost no make up the week before she obviously had spent some time perfecting her look today. She looked radiant.
She peeked over and smiled at me momentarily when I entered the room before putting back on her serious face and turning her attention back to the evidently fretting parent in front of her. She said a few things to comfort the mom as she walked her to the door. I noticed her slyly lock the door as she closed it. Once the mom was out of the room she was all smiles for me.
"You came back," she said trying to sound surprised at my return.
"Like you didn't know I would," I answered not letting her off the hook. "You look very nice today, Mrs. B, not that you didn't look great last week, but you look amazing today."
"Didn't you grow up to be quite the flirt?" she teased.
"Just being honest."
"Well don't get too carried away, I was your teacher."
"Even more reason to get carried away."
There was another lapse in the conversation, I was afraid that I was being a little too aggressive. I looked around the room and saw that she had a Jeopardy board drawn on the chalkboard. "I used to love playing Jeopardy in your class."
"If I remember correctly you used to always win."
"Just trying to impress you Mrs. B."
"If you're going to flirt with me at least call me Susan, I don't think I can handle hearing Mrs. B."
"Whatever you want Susan."
"Think you can still answer all the questions in the game?"
"I hope so otherwise that English minor I picked up would be pretty worthless."
"Sounds like you're pretty confident. You know these questions are a lot tougher than when you were here, might be hard for you."
"Put me to the test and see."
"Okay, first question; Finish the sentence: Of Mice and Men took place during the ...?"
"Great Depression."
"Correct. Just wanted to start off with an easy one to make sure video games hadn't killed all your brain cells."
"Next question...." she began but I stopped her.
"Wait, shouldn't I get some reward for answering it right?"
