Married. The sexiest son of a bitch she’d ever laid her eyes on, and god damnit, he was married. Of course it didn’t help matters that he was her English teacher, but to be perfectly honest, she didn’t give a rat’s ass about that. He could have been the fucking President, and she’d still go after him. But he was married. Married!
Not that that would have stopped her under normal circumstances. But her experience had taught her that most married guys would rather not take on an extra project, even if she was twenty years old, with nice perky 36C’s, a round ass, and eyes that burn holes right through your goddamn head. And watching him, she guessed he was one of those guys. He may not have been happily married, but he understood the sanctity of the marriage vows. She probably didn’t have a shot under heaven.
She hadn’t tried very hard, though, really. She’d been in his class the whole semester, and would have to take it all year, so she definitely had time to try to win him over. Something about it, though, just felt wrong, and as flirty as she could be with him, she couldn’t bring herself to seduce him outright.
Yet she couldn’t help watching him in class, following him with her eyes as he paced back and forth during his lectures. He was very interesting overall, which completely turned her on, not to mention his well-shaped shoulders, perfect for clinging to and scratching up. Then of course there were his strong thighs, his perfect little ass, and his eyes. God, his eyes! They were just like hers; deep, intense, looking right through you like he knew something you didn’t. She squirmed in her chair watching him, her pussy getting wet under her skirt, and she wiggled around in her chair, trying to rub herself against it. She wished she were back in her dorm room, so she could whip out her vibrator and go to town.
She liked to stay after class and talk to him -- after all, he was only 30, not too much older than she was -- and they’d actually become pretty good friends, as students and teachers go. But while she was talking to him her eyes always drifted to the pictures on his desk -- his wife, his kids, smiley faces. She had a feeling they were only smiling for the camera, though, after hearing him talk about her the way he did. Apparently his wife expected him not only to make all the money, but to take care of the kids and the house as well, while she herself never did anything to help. And god, was she ugly. Having the kids had evidently put a lot of weight on her, and she looked in the pictures like she took a bath maybe once a week or so. God, how did he fuck her?
So, in a way she felt sorry for him, but more than anything she just wanted to fuck the daylights out of him. Just once, so then he’d be out of her system for good.
She didn’t even hear him dismiss the class, she was too busy watching him. Everyone began collecting their books and pens and things and leaving the classroom, and she kept watching him. Just watching. By the time everyone had left, she was reorganized and ready to leave. No classes after this one, just back to the dorm to study or masturbate or whatever. She stood up, and the sound of his voice stopped her.
“Hey, Grace,” he called.
She turned around. “Yes, professor?” She called him professor when she wanted to tease him. Everyone knew they were on a first-name basis.
He didn’t respond to her ribbing. “You got a second?”
She was surprised. She had been so busy staring at him and analyzing his body during class that she hadn’t noticed something was bothering him. Now it was clear -- something was definitely not right. “Of course I’ve got a minute. What’s wrong?” She made her way to his desk and sat down on the edge of it, looking at him attentively.
He flopped down into his chair. “I’ve just got a lot of shit on my mind, I guess. I need to talk to someone--” He broke off, obviously looking for the right words. After a moment, he continued, “Someone who isn’t a part of the whirlwind. You know what I mean? I mean, I could talk to my mom or my brother, but they’re all biased…” He trailed off again.
“No, Ben, I know what you mean. You need an impartial party.” “Right.”
“Well, what can I do for you, sir?”
“Would you stop with the ‘professor’ and the ‘sir’ already? You’re making this difficult.”
She blinked. “Are you angry at me or are you looking for somebody to lash out at?”
He looked up at her and said nothing for a moment. Then he let out an abrupt chuckle. “You’re awfully smart for your age, you know that?”
She grinned. “I do.”
He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, as he always did when he was thinking. His slate blue eyes traveled blankly over the classroom. “I’ve had it with Monica,” he whispered.
His wife. Grace knew they’d been having problems lately, more than usual, but he hadn’t said anything quite like this before. “Ben,” she began carefully, “we talked about this last week, remember? And you said you didn’t care what it took, you were going to stick with her and make it work for the sake of the kids. Remember?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I remember that.” He was still looking out toward the classroom or some point beyond. He seemed very introverted, very downtrodden. He was afraid.
