by Sam Crescent
I’ve go a big dick. He made a note that it’s “got” not “go”.
And I’m a great big prick. He looked at the author and saw it was Connor and couldn’t agree more.
I screw all the girls,
Cause that’s how I roll.
And this assignment is sick!
That was it. Five lines that he probably wrote while getting his dick sucked.
Putting that to one side after marking it up, Jack moved onto the next one. That was pretty much the same, and he saw it was also a friend of Connor.
Over and over, he marked up poems, some good, some bad.
Flowers are the keys to the soul,
They grow all year long, but
Their beauty is always there.
Pure like a summer’s day.
That wasn’t too bad. Down the pile he went until he got to the last one.
I don’t know how many syllables, lines or anything. I hope this is okay.
Broken, alone, feeling blue,
The feeling never ends.
There are times I can’t breathe,
The darkness swirling all around.
Only beauty matters, not real feelings.
Cut to the core, no one’s perfect.
We’re all flawed in our own ways.
But if you can’t see it, you’re set free.
No one cares as long as you’re the prettiest.
What happened to skin deep?
It’s all lies!
Jack sat back, seeing that this was indeed Lucia’s poem. She’d given his homework a try, and he was impressed with what she’d shown him. The poem wasn’t anything great, not unless you knew the author, and she’d done exactly what he’d asked her to.
She had taken a long time to look deep within herself, to find the darkness, the embers, the pain.
He felt this pain inside her.
Putting her poem down, he stood up and paced the porch.
They were all flawed. Every single human being, and she spoke of being trapped, and he felt utterly helpless.
Sitting down, he read the poem again, marking where she went wrong, the grammar mistakes, then finally, he gave her two grades. A, for content and doing what he asked, along with a C, for the actual poem.
Gathering up his work, he replaced it in his file and headed inside. He needed to clear his head, but that wasn’t going to happen on a Monday night.
“You can’t do this,” he said. “She’s a fucking student. An underage student.”
Running a hand down his face, all he could see was Lucia’s smiling face and then the tears rolling down her face on Friday night.
So much emotion, so much strength.
She didn’t see it yet, but he knew it was there.
He saw it inside her.
Closing up his home, he made his way upstairs to his room. His laptop sat on his bed, taunting him. Instead of opening it up and seeing what he wanted, he made his way into the bathroom.
He stood under the spray of the cold shower, but it did little to clear his head, or appease his need.
His cock was still rock-hard as he made his way back into the bedroom. Once again, his laptop called to him, begging for him to pick it up and take a look.
Finally, he gave in to temptation and opened up the laptop. Opening his social media page, which he kept quiet, he typed in her name, only to come up with a blank name. When his searches didn’t find anything, he typed in her friend’s name, and there Marie was. There was a picture of Marie, but nothing of Lucia.
Didn’t she do social media?
The main picture was of Marie and Lucia. They were at a beach.
Her friend wore a bikini while Lucia wore a dress. They were both smiling, and he saw the love she clearly had for her friend.
This was fucking wrong.
He shouldn’t be stalking a student or trying to find her online.
Logging out of his account, he pushed his laptop to the bed and ignored the call inside him. He wasn’t about to become one of those teachers.
He’d worked too damn hard to be where he was right now, and falling for a student, caring about her, wanting her, that was not part of his plan.
Slapping his face, he stared up at his ceiling.
“Get a grip, Parker. This is not going to happen to you.”
He slapped himself again for good measure, hoping that he’d finally put some sense into himself.
Chapter Five
Running through the park, Lucia checked the time and saw it was still a little before six. She’d woken up from a nightmare, and instead of trying to sleep, she’d just decided to head on out and get in a run.
The park, for some bizarre reason, called to her, so that was why at such an early time, she was running across the route she’s seen on the maps online. Clenching her hands into fists, she ignored the pain in her thighs, or the tightening in her stomach. She wanted to just stop, bend over, and pant.
She ignored those pains, but slowed down so she could last just a bit longer.
Her dream always did this to her.
She was in a forest, surrounded by faceless people. They meant nothing to her, but whenever she was in the forest, she was always terrified. She knew that death was coming.
When the first person started to hit her, she screamed, only no sound came out. For as long as she could remember this dream had been a plague to her.
Each time she had the exact same dream, sleep always failed her. Normally, she got up and watched some television or read. This time, she’d thrown her running clothes on and left the house. It wasn’t like her parents would be overly concerned for her leaving.
They wanted her to lose weight.
Clicking to the next song on her phone, she was so busy looking down at her hip that she collided into a rock-hard, heavy body.
One second she was running—or speed-walking could also be used to describe what she was doing—the next, she was on her back, staring up at the sky, then up at Jack. He pulled his earbuds out, and she realized she was bumping into him a lot lately.
Keep your crush in check.
Don’t embarrass yourself.
“Mr. Parker,” she said, pulling her own buds out of her ears. “Morning.”
She smiled up at him, and he frowned. “You didn’t text me to say you were out running today.”
“It was spontaneous, and I didn’t think you’d be awake this early.”
She lifted up a little, and Jack held his hand out to her to take.
Biting her lip, which she seemed to be doing a lot lately around him, she gave a little yelp as he lifted her up.
He was a lot stronger than she thought he would be.
Also, he hadn’t let go of her hand, and it felt really good for him to hold her. She didn’t want him to let her go.
“I’m always up early. No matter what time or day it is, you text me, okay?” he asked.
She forced herself to look up at him, and nod. “Okay.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course. It’s not every single day you’ll catch me out here running. This is kind of a new phenomenon for me.”
“I read your poem.”
This made her gasp, and she pulled her hand away from his, only to miss the contact the moment she did it. She cursed herself for feeling anything right now.
Her tits felt heavy, and her nipples puckered.
All that teaching about sex was paying off. It’s too bad she couldn’t go tell her parents.
“Hey, Mom, Dad, remember all that extra homework you made me do when I was twelve? You know, the one about all the teenage sex, hormones, arousal, that kind of thing. Yeah, totally paying off. I can now see that I’m highly aroused by my English teacher, and not just that, having sex with him is hitting high on my fucking list.”
If she was cussing in her mind, she needed to get a grip and fast. She was losing the plot already, and she didn’t have time for this.
“Oh,” she said. She had kind of for
gotten about the poem. “I didn’t know the specifications. There seemed to be a lot from short to long.”
“You did exactly as I asked. You looked deep inside yourself, and your poem was raw. Thank you, and I happen to agree with you.”
“About what?” she asked.
“People are flawed. Every single one of them. There is no perfection out there, and the prettiest, even they have pain, Lucia.”
“They don’t need to deal with it though.”
“They still have it. Pretty, ugly, no matter who you are, flaws are out there. You just got to learn to take hold of your own and make yourself fly.”
She nodded and glanced down at the ground. “Thank you.”
“You’re not an ugly person, Lucia.”
“You keep saying that. You really shouldn’t.”
“I know. I’m your teacher, and I can get in trouble.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she said. She shrugged. “I’m not a tattletale.” She licked her suddenly dry lips, and his gaze focused on them.
Her heart started to race, and she liked this. She liked having his attention focused on her.
“Why are you not on any social media pages?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Huh?”
“Social media? You know the thing that allows you guys to stay connected. Like an active beehive only online.”
“I deactivated my account, why?”
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
“There was a thing a year or so ago. I came to school in a skirt, and it got lifted up. The picture ended up online, circulated, laughed at. Made coming to school really fucking miserable actually. You know, fat thighs, rubbing together, lumps and bumps,” she said.
“Is that why you don’t wear skirts or dresses?”
“Unless I’m with my parents I don’t wear any of those things. It’s no big deal.” Again, she shrugged her shoulders. Glancing down at her watch, she saw it was getting late. “I need to head back home,” she said. “It was nice talking to you.”
“You should wear dresses and skirts again,” he said.
This made her pause and turn to look back at him. “Why?”
“To stop them from winning. Every single day you don’t wear what you want, you’re losing your fight and they are winning.”
“It’s not a battle I care to win,” she said.
“It should be. Your style, it’s who you are. Next time, report them to the principal, or better yet, come to me. I’ll deal with it.”
“You’ll be my personal savior.”
“I’ll make sure you have a senior year to enjoy and not look back with regret.”
“You do this for all your students?” she asked.
“No, it seems I do this for you.”
Her heart started to pound.
“And any teacher who touches you or makes you feel uncomfortable, no matter who they are, you report them too. Don’t let them get away with it. Put them in their place.”
“Yes, sir.”
She saw his eyes flare, and instead of questioning him, she made her way back toward her home.
As she walked up the steps to her house, she saw that she was smiling. She didn’t linger, quickly taking a shower from her run, drying out her hair, and changing into a pair of jeans and a shirt.
Heading downstairs, she found her parents drinking coffee.
“Morning,” she said.
She put a couple of slices of bread in the toaster. For the first time, she didn’t listen to what her parents had to say, but thought about Jack Parker, her English teacher. What would he have done if she had looked at him and said he could touch her anytime?
Biting her lip, she grabbed the jam with no added sugar and slathered her bread thickly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother watching her. This time, she ignored her. She didn’t give a shit what her parents thought right now. Her only care was for Jack, her teacher.
Finishing off her toast, she licked her fingers, washing up the dishes.
“See you later.”
Before either of them could say anything, she was out of the house and gone, her bag slung over her shoulder as she made her way across town toward the high school. She always left home early, but this was even earlier than usual.
The school was already open, and she saw teachers parked.
She even saw Jack Parker’s car already in his spot. Ignoring the tightening in her gut, she kept on walking.
She went straight to the library and sat at one of the tables. Pulling out her books, she began to study.
“You’re everywhere I go today,” Jack said, taking a seat at her table. Half an hour had passed, and the bell would ring in ten minutes.
She looked up from her books as he took a seat. “I got here early. I wasn’t in the mood for parent drama today.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then do you want to help me get a few books for my class? I could use the extra hands.”
“Sure.” She quickly packed her stuff away, putting the bag on her shoulder and hiking it up high.
The librarian had supplied him with several copies of William Shakespeare’s complete collection of poems.
Holding several copies, she followed Jack down the long hallway to his classroom. They passed several teachers, who nodded at him.
Once inside, she put them on his desk, placing her hand on top.
“Do you want me to put these out?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She moved up and down the aisles putting books on each table, aware of Jack’s eyes on her. This was wrong.
She knew it was wrong and that if anyone ever even suspected their conversations, they both could be in trouble.
Her parents would freak out.
She’d have no choice but to leave school.
Once she was done, she turned to see him still staring at her.
“I better go,” she said.
She wasn’t even eighteen yet, and this desire she felt for him, it scared her. She didn’t want him to get in trouble, but she liked that he didn’t see her as “the fat girl.”
“Have a good day, Lucia,” he said.
She paused at his door, getting the feeling that he wanted to say more.
“You too,” she finally said.
Leaving the door open, she made her way out toward her locker, and began changing the books that she would need for first period.
“Well, well, well, if it’s not little chunky. Already in school? Have you eaten the cafeteria out already?” Connor asked.
She ignored him, even as his friends who were near burst out laughing.
“The only thing you’ll ever get in your mouth is fucking food. No guy would want to risk his dick going in that mouth. It probably wouldn’t come out.”
Every single time he decided to do this, she took his insults. She listened to their crudeness, and just accepted it.
Everyone is flawed.
She was tired of being everyone’s punching bag.
Her mother.
Her father.
Classmates.
She was completely fucking done, and tired of it.
Spinning around, she smiled at him. “You jealous?” she asked.
“What?” Connor asked.
She had clearly surprised him.
“You seem so obsessed with what I stuff in my mouth.” She stared down his body. “Don’t worry, Connor, when you’re a man you’ll grow balls. But I’m allergic to peanuts, so there’s no way you’ll be in my mouth.” Slamming her locker closed, she patted his chest and walked off.
There was no laughter, and she heard Connor sputtering.
She wasn’t allergic to peanuts.
Far from it.
Her mother just stopped buying the good peanut butter and opted for that horrible, nasty stuff that didn’t taste good.
It felt good to stand up for a change. She liked it, and knew she was going to do it more often. The only power people had ov
er her was what she let them have. She was done giving anyone any power.
****
A couple of weeks later in mid-September
In between random visits to the library, and some bumps in the park, Jack made sure he wasn’t alone with Lucia again. She wasn’t a dangerous student, but he didn’t trust himself. He watched her walk around high school. Most of the time she was with Marie.
She still hadn’t worn any skirts or dresses, but again, he’d been determined not to notice that shit.
The principal had announced a parent-teacher night, and he’d gotten the note to say that Lucia’s parents intended to attend but to write a report card, just in case they didn’t show.
He was pissed off for her, but he kept reminding himself that he couldn’t be. This was not his place to be pissed off.
Instead, he wrote out the report card, ready for the night.
The evening was for a Friday, and most of the students had already left. He’d made his classroom presentable.
“It’s that horrible night,” Beth Bertram said, coming to his room. “I hate these nights. There are some parents who don’t give a shit and are here for the free food and beverages. Then there are those that care too much and want to know why you’re not giving their child special privileges.”
“Every child is special in their own way.”
“Oh, I know, just not in a good way either.” Beth smiled at him. “We’ve not had a chance to talk for some time. How have you been?”
“Busy. I spend most nights grading, lesson planning, that whole thing.”
“Yeah, me too. You’ve got to remember to take some time for yourself, Jack.” She patted his chest, and he didn’t like her touch, not one bit.
“I’m going to get myself a drink before this entire thing kicks off. You care to join me?”
“Certainly.”
He didn’t offer his arm, but she took it regardless. They made their way down the long corridor toward the main cafeteria. Entering the large room, he spotted Lucia up on the ladder. Marie, her friend, was holding it, while a couple of the men and boys were off to the side, displaying the table.
What the fuck was wrong with this picture?
He knew, and saw it, and he was pissed. Marie was in no way capable of holding that ladder steady.
“What the fuck is Lucia doing up there?” he asked.
“Oh, she does this every single year. She always helps out where she can.”