Lottie Monroe sat at the back of Mr. Anderson's classroom, absently doodling around her notes. Her mind wanders far from the History lecture, drifting instead to the pool party she was looking forward to that weekend. She couldn't stop thinking about the light pink bikini with white polka dots she'd spotted at the mall. She'd already accepted an invitation from her friends to go shopping later that evening, and she was eager to find the perfect swimsuit for the party. As Mr. Anderson's voice drones on in the background, Lottie lost herself in daydreams of school year fun, the sound of the classroom fading into the distance.
Her pencil tapped rhythmically against her notebook as she imagines herself at the pool, the sun warming her skin and her friends laughing around her. She was excited for her senior year and the friends and experiences she was eager to make. Turning 18 a week before school started had made everything feel different--like adult-hood was already starting, even though she hadn't even graduated yet, or come close to it with the school year just beginning.
The bell abruptly rang, signaling that the period was over. Lottie sat up, straightening her books on the desk, and gathered them tightly against her chest. She stood to leave, following the group of students toward the door when suddenly, "Monroe." Mr. Anderson's voice calls after her.
She froze, her nerves making her hesitate as she turns back toward him, watching as he erases the marker on the whiteboard. She has a small crush on him, just like the other girls. He has dark, fluffy hair, intense brown eyes, and a tall, fit frame. There was a certain maturity about him that all the girls admired, the kind of quality they often dreamed of in a man.
"Yes?" she says, her voice soft but curious.
"I need you to come by after school to discuss your test scores," he says, still focused on the board.
"Of course," Lottie replied with a nod before walking out of the classroom.
After school, Lottie pushes open the door to Mr. Anderson's classroom, the familiar scent of chalk and old textbooks greeting her. The classroom was mostly empty now, the desks cleared and the usual chatter of students replaced by the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights. She stood just inside the door for a moment, feeling the weight of her anticipation, before walking toward his desk where Mr. Anderson was sitting, flipping through papers.
He looks up as she approaches, a small, almost amused smile tugging at his lips. "You're on time, Monroe," he remarks, his voice smooth and casual.
He looks up from his papers and scans the classroom before asking, "Why don't you shut the door for me, dear?" He instructs. Lottie obediently nods and shuts the door closed unaware of the lock clicking from the outside.
Mr. Anderson watched as Lottie turns and walks back toward his desk. She was small, barely 110 pounds, and stood at 5'4". Her presence was delicate yet undeniable. She held her hands behind her back as she walks up to him, her posture submissive. He likes how submissive she is, always eager to do what he asks, he wonders how far he could push that limit.
"What's this I hear about you going to Lowell's party?" he asks, his tone mimicking that of a concerned parent.
Lottie raised an eyebrow. "What?" she replies softly.
"You know what I'm talking about..." He trails off, his tone serious with a subtle hint of jealousy.
"Sorry, I do. I am going to that party, but I don't see how that has anything to do with what you wanted to talk about," she said, tilting her head and batting her eyelashes at him. He felt a subtle stir of desire at how innocent she looked standing at his desk.
"I'm just wondering..." He raises an eyebrow, eyeing her with more intensity. "Have you been to a party like that before?"
"No, sir." She quickly responds, her voice soft but certain. "I mean, I've been to birthday parties, but not this kind of party."
