Bolstered by her success, she decides to kick things up a notch. When her Religion IV teacher--of course it would be religion class--lets the class know that there will be a substitute the next day, she is determined to catch his eye again. The following day she has her blouse unbuttoned again, her plaid skirt rolled up just a tad too high, and she's wearing knee socks into smooth, lowly heeled, barely regulation women's loafers. With a simple black choker on her neck, a smoky perfume on her wrists, and a soft, shimmery gloss on her lips, she sits down at her desk in the very back row and waits.
He makes his way to the lectern, and she crosses her legs into the aisle to give him a glimpse of their length and smoothness. Once he's started reading the scripture passage for the lesson, she takes her pencil and slowly runs it down her neck to her collarbone, subtly squirming like she enjoys the feel, though her face is serious. She looks at her desk as if she's intently listening while he goes through the longest list of names in the genealogy of Christ, but she's brought the pencil back up, now running across the seam of her lips in purposeful absentmindedness.
All of a sudden he is saying her name in place of one in the list, and she looks up in honest surprise that it worked so quickly. He resumes reading out loud while the whole class turns back to look at her. With wide eyes, she shrugs and shakes her head as if she has no idea what's going on.
The next time she sees him isn't until a week later during study hall. Apparently the school librarian is out for the foreseeable future with the flu, and he was the closest to a librarian the school could scrounge up on such short notice. Once her bag and notebook are at her usual table, she offers to help him put away the returned books. They go about this separately at first, but eventually they have books on adjoining shelves.
From her pile, she takes the book that needs to be placed on the very top shelf and stands on her tip toes, pretending to grimace with the stretch. Knowing exactly what she's doing, she gives a little hop to reach higher and leans too far over, into his personal space, and lets herself fall into him. He turns slightly to catch her, their fronts facing each other, and grabs her at the waist with both hands. Stumbling a bit to push her face into his neck and her breasts into his chest, she moves her hands to his upper arms and holds on as if to steady herself. They've never touched more than hands when passing papers, so now is the time to see if he's as drawn to her proximity as he is her appearance.
She slowly looks up at him with wide eyes and a parted, surprised mouth, refusing to be the first to let go, wanting to see how long it will take him to. As soon as her eyes meet his, his grip on her waist tightens. He stays this way, staring into her face, until laughter comes from somewhere among the student tables, and he immediately drops his hands and steps back. Of course he asks if she's alright, but the moment the yes is out of her mouth, he pivots and leaves the shelves. She doesn't see him again that period, but she knows she's won; she's wormed her way past his defenses, and she's ready to cash in her prize.
The next day is a Friday, and after her last class she walks to the library and sits at a table, going over flash cards and notes for another hour in order to lure him into a false sense of security: see, nothing's going to happen, there's no reason to be cautious. Once everyone else has left, she puts her study materials away, slips her bag over her shoulder, and walks up to the librarian's office, where he's doing something on the computer, which faces towards the opposite wall.
