Teacher's Pet

It was a Sunday evening; I was lying across the lush green grass on my stomach feeling the warm summer breeze on the backs of my legs, as well as the light sprinkling of water from the garden sprinklers as they rained around me.

My upper body was propped up on my elbows with an open book and a love letter in front of me that I would read and then re-read over, and over again. As my eyes marveled at my love’s handwriting, my mind would slip in and out of consciousness as I re-called our romantic and secret rendezvous that occurred over the school year.

I could still feel the ghost of his thumb affectionately graze over my chin as he lovingly gazed at me; I knew in that moment by the way he looked at me, he had forgotten that I was his student.

Everything around us seemed to move in slow motion. It felt as though we had both been put into a blissful trance. I can still vividly re-call the glow of the pale moonlight shining in through the windows hitting me, making me appear like some angelic being that shone so brightly in the dark. I was only nineteen, but I knew he loved me; I was the light of his life, the fire of his loins. I was his sin, his soul.

The sound of my Mother’s voice caused me to leave my dream-like paradise. I saw her calling out my name from the kitchen window that overlooked the back garden, beckoning me to come inside and wash up for dinner. I rose up to my knees and stretched my arms up over my head.

As I proceeded into the kitchen after washing up for dinner, my mother had already begun piling food onto my plate and setting it down in front of me “eat up” she smiled.

I picked up my fork and began poking around at the food in my plate, I couldn’t eat. My mother’s eyes seemed to fill with frustration and exasperation as she watched my fork lightly tap the chicken breast that was sitting on my plate, as though scrutinizing it. No matter how thoroughly cooked it was, I could never trust it. I hated chicken.

After dinner I proceeded to my bedroom where my school bag lay opened and half packed on the carpet, books and clothes sprawling out of it like ivy.

Once my bag was packed I tumbled into my roughly made bed where I slipped something from out under my pillow; it was a bottle of Tom Ford’s Tobacco Vanille. Before leaving school for the holidays I had taken his cologne. Pure euphoria overtook my senses. The notes of vanilla, tobacco leaf, ginger and cocoa set my senses on fire. It reminded me of curling up with him in front of a roaring fire, my Professor’s head resting in my lap as my fingers gently stroked his temple, soothing him.

Sleep slowly took over; it began to blur the lines between dream and reality. I didn’t know what was real and what was fake.

Regardless of it all, I could still feel his head resting upon my lap, nuzzling into it as though it were a pillow. My Professor was only in his early thirties; however he looked more late thirties. He also had a slight yet visible scar that ran from his eye brow to his cheek. A lot of the girls at school found it repulsive, but I thought it looked pretty boss.

I re-called ever so slightly tracing my finger over it with such affection. I have asked him from time to time how he got it but I never got an answer. Instead his fingers would just softly brush against the side of my face.

I’d leaned into his touch as his thumb stroked my cheek, my own hand beginning to slide along his arm and softly rest over his hand as though silently telling him to keep it there. He felt me quiver as his thumb grazed over my lips. He said nothing as he bought his other hand up to me; cupping my face in both his hands. The sound of my beating heart pulsed through my chest as he stared at me. I began to feel his breath on mine as we both felt the pull….

I awoke that morning in a daze; my celluloid dreams were vivid and still projecting over and over in my head before being torn at the seams as my mother stood over me, shaking me to get up and out of bed.

I examined my reflection, blending a little concealer over the one pimple that decided to call home on my chin before making sure my lashes were curled and bore that beautiful feline shape. {Probably why he calls me Kitten in secret} I applied a nude-pink colour over my naturally full pout, mixing shades of rose and peach to achieve my perfect signature colour.

My eyes became fixated on my pout; I couldn’t count how many times I had bitten it at my Professor, his eyes always sliding to my lips for that brief moment before returning to my gaze.

Moments later his lips would softly brush mine, Beast overcame man as he began kissing me with such vehement passion, his hands underneath my thighs as he dominantly picked me up and turned around towards his desk to set me down on top of it….

I felt some kind of hypnic jerk back me into my dressing table. My heart began to flutter as sudden warmth washed over my face and chest.

….My legs wrapped around him and my hands running through his hair, I pulled my Professor closer as his arm clung around my waist while his other hand remained at the base of my neck, holding me to him.

His grip then eased from around my waist before settling down on top of my thigh, his lips softly trailing along my jawline and into my neck. At the same time I could feel that same hand sliding up my thigh, pushing my little black skirt further and further up.

His name escaped my lips as my head fell back in ecstasy, his other hand beginning to slowly slide up the back of my white school shirt and with one swift movement I was on my back.

My head pushed back into the desk causing my body to arch as I entered into a state of euphoria…

Once again I heard my mother’s now agitated voice echo through the walls; calling me to hurry up otherwise I’d miss the train back to school. I had two long hours ahead of me until I was reunited with my Professor.