Loose Lips Sink Ships
Page 10
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Mr. Nielson, a middle-aged man who wore thick glasses and had a bit of a spare tire, rambled on and on in front of his chemistry class. He’d drawn some molecular formations on the board, and he was explaining the different parts. An employee of Springdale High School for two decades, the man obviously enjoyed teaching, and he smiled most of the time and called the students by name. Sprinkling nerdy chemistry jokes or personal anecdotes into his lecture, he often allowed himself to indulge in a good-natured chuckle.
Sitting in the back of the class, Avery spied him carefully, sharing none of his good cheer. They’d just finished going over the test she’d failed, which sat in plain view on her desk. As much as she watched him, she also mentally rehearsed her plan, waiting for class to end so she could make her move.
It was hard work ignoring what he had to say so she could focus on what she had to do. She wasn’t nervous, rather being in her element gave her a steady determination. It was a shame Carter wasn’t in this class as well, or she’d have them both eating out of her hand before the next period started.
The bell finally rang, and the cadre of students exited into the hall. Avery lazily packed away her things, letting the others clear out ahead of her. By the time she swaggered down the row toward his workstation at the front of the room, they were the only two left. He noticed her approach, and she could see him struggling to remember her name because she never raised her hand in class. She didn’t have time for any of that polite garbage though. Avery leaned in close to him, setting her elbows on the black countertop that separated them.
“Did you know that in ancient Greece it was common for older men to take much younger lovers?” she cooed, smiling and curling her brown hair with her finger.
Mr. Neilson squinted at her, adjusting his glasses. A sour, puzzled look dawned on his pasty face.
“Does this look like a history class to you?” he asked.
“Oh, right. I’m sorry,” Avery said, shaking her head to correct herself. “Look, I know you want to fire off a few electrons into my nucleus, so what do you say we close the blinds and charge a little chemistry?”
“What exactly are you proposing?” the older man wondered, but Avery didn’t let his skepticism get to her. Keeping her sly smirk, she brushed a finger across his chest.
“Hold your horses there, buckshot. No one’s doing any proposing yet. I’m just saying you and I have always shared an unspoken attraction, and I think it’s time we finally make a bond. There’s got to be a storage closet around here somewhere, right?”
In her bag, Avery kept her digital camera. All she had to do was get him in there, strip off his clothes, and snap a picture of his white, blubbery body. Then she could print it out in the computer lab, write on the back, “I could’ve had this,” and slip it to Carter before the day was out. That’d really make his blood boil.
“Have you lost your mind?” Mr. Nielson gasped, putting his hands up and backing away from the counter. Maybe this wouldn’t be so easy after all.
“Don’t fight it,” Avery argued, leaning forward and letting her V-neck sink a little lower. “I know it’s wrong, but that’s what makes it so right. It’s every teacher’s fantasy to bang a hot student between classes. So let’s not waste any more time.”
Some of the shock faded from the teacher’s face. He appeared sweaty all of a sudden, as though a bright light shone down on him from above.
“Are you serious? Is that what you want? No, no, you’re just trying to get me fired. This is for that test, isn’t it?” he stammered.
“You think I’m joking? Here, go ahead and cop a feel of my boob. Go right ahead,” she urged.
“Wh—where is it?”
“Right in this general area, where it’s supposed to be. Come on,” she coaxed, gesturing in front of her chest and dipping her shoulder to make her breast slightly more visible.
Mr. Neilson raised a twitching hand, fingers clenched like a cat hanging on a wall. Avery nodded as he jerked it closer. He still had a look of bewilderment and horror etched on his face. His hand, in much the same shape as a ping-pong paddle, pressed evenly against her skin. A shuddering gasp emerged from Mr. Neilson, followed by an expression akin to childish delight.
“There, that’s not so bad, is it? No, that breast gets an A plus.”
Unable to speak, the balding, goofy teacher gripped and groped her. He appeared so happy, Avery was afraid he’d blow it in his briefs and she’d never manage to get him in the storage closet. Just as she was about to suggest he detach himself and they make a move, a loud scream came from the doorway to the right. Both their heads instantly twisted, and they spotted a preppy blonde girl carrying her chemistry book.
“Mr. Neilson!” she shrieked, terrified revulsion on her face. She scampered out of sight, the sound of her yelping echoing through the halls. Avery plucked the hand from her chest and gave her teacher a solemn, disappointed look.
“You probably should’ve known better than to take advantage of me that way. Anyway, I’ve got to get to social studies.”
Avery exited the room, leaving Mr. Neilson’s hand in the air and his mouth wide open.