Game On: If I wasn't her student, it would be game on.

by Daiko, SC

  I try to gage Beth’s mood as she opens the door. “Come in, Ryan. Take a seat.” She’s using her teacher voice, and my heart sinks.

  She positions herself at the opposite end of the leather sofa to me, putting distance between us. I decide to start the ball rolling. “I wanna apologise, Beth. What I did was totally outta order.”

  “It’s not that simple.” Her eyes meet mine, and they’re filled with sadness. Shit!

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I’ve been doing is wrong. Don’t you see?” She twists her hands in her lap, and continues in a shaky voice. “I have a duty of care to you as my student. And, like it or not, society will take the view that I’ve influenced you to have sex with me.”

  My stomach clenches, and coldness washes over me. “But it’s not like that. We both know it was me who came on to you.”

  Her beautiful chocolate eyes well up. “I let you do that, and I shouldn’t have,” she releases a sob. “I’m in a position of authority over you. I should have exercised that authority and nipped it in the bud.”

  I blink my own tears away, and my chin trembles. Joder, I never cry. Not even when Papá died. “You’re ending it between us? I can’t believe you’d do that.”

  She knuckles the moisture from her eyes. “I think that would be for the best.”

  “No, fucking way, it’s NOT for the best.” I reach across and grasp hold of her shoulders with tense fingers. “I’m in love with you. And I think you feel the same way about me.”

  “I care about you, don’t think that I don’t. I even defended you to my head of department.” Her words are raw and choked. “But I’m not in love with you. How can I be? You’re my student.”

  “I’m not a kid,” I say firmly. “I’m an adult. Don’t forget I turned nineteen last month.” My voice sounds desperate to my ears.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She shakes her head and squirms out of my hold. How can she be so detached? It’s like she has ice in her veins. “It’s for your own good,” she says, quietly. “You need to focus on your studies. I’m sure I’ve been distracting you. I mean, you must find it hard to concentrate with so few hours’ sleep three nights a week. And what about your rugby?”

  “I catch up on my rest. I’m at the top of my game in rugby and I get my schoolwork done, no problem.” Bitter bile rises in my throat and I swallow, hard. “It’s not me you’re concerned about. It’s you. You’re crapping yourself someone might find out and you’ll lose your job.”

  She lets out a brittle laugh. “I’ve worked hard to qualify. And I love my job.”

  “More than you love me?” I sound like a spoiled child, but I can’t help myself.

  “That’s not the point. We need to focus on what’s real. And the reality is that I’m your teacher. I’ve abused my position and behaved unprofessionally. I have a duty of care towards you, Ryan. Don’t you get it?”

  “You could teach in a different school where I’m not your student,” I suggest, looking her in the eye.

  She smiles weakly, and a tear runs down her cheek. “I’m contracted to work at Wyemouth until the end of the school year. Just like you’ll be my student until the end of May when the external exams start. There’s no way around it.”

  I lean in and kiss the tear from her cheek. “We could wait,” I say. “Wait until I graduate. Wait until you find a position somewhere else. I’m sure we’re not the only couple who fall for each other under these circumstances.”

  She stares at me, and I see the brief indecision in her eyes before she shuts it down. “How can you even think of tying yourself to me like that? I won’t let you. You have so much ahead of you, so much to experience. It would be selfish of me to ask that of you. And I won’t. I simply won’t.”

  She’s not making sense.

  “You don’t know me well enough yet, princesa. But I know myself. I know when I decide on something I never falter. It’s my character. And I’m gonna prove it to you.”

  Her brows crease. “You’re right that we don’t know each other. What do we have in common, Ryan?”

  Her words cut me to the core. “Jesus, Beth. How can you even ask that? Don’t we both love to dance, to run, to talk Spanish? With time, we’d find out even more things we enjoy together.”

  “That’s just it. We don’t have that time. I need to do the right thing and end it.”

  There’s anguish in her voice, and I clench my jaw. “I wish I hadn’t done what I did. I’ve ruined everything.”

  “It was a wake-up call. It woke me up and made me face up to my responsibilities. You’ll thank me for this one day.”

  Her responsibilities. It keeps coming back to her role as my fucking teacher. And how can she believe I’d thank her?

  “I’ll leave now,” I say. “But you’ll see me in class next week when my exclusion is over. And, after the Christmas holidays there’ll only be one term of school left. I’m not gonna let you go, Beth. Not unless you fucking want me to.”

  I breathe out, wait for her to do that, to tell me it’s what she wants. But she doesn’t. She puts her head in her hands, and groans. “Just leave.”

  And I do. I get to my feet and walk away, closing the door to her flat behind me.

  15

  I pour myself a large glass of Chardonnay and knock it back to numb the pain. What have I done? The look in Ryan’s eyes, when I told him it was over, cut me to the very core. I was trying to make him see sense… trying to make myself see sense... and now I feel like an empty shell.

  My eyes well up and a sob escapes from my throat. The saying love hurts springs to mind. I’ve fallen in love with a nineteen-year-old boy. Deeply and irrevocably in love with him. But he can’t be in love with me; it’s just lust on his part… it must be. No one has ever truly loved me… not my parents, not my sister, not Paulo. I was right to break it off with Ryan, right to break it off before I got even more hurt.

  It’s all so complicated... the secrecy and the guilt, overridden by the need I feel for him. I’ve been addicted to the bittersweet fantasy of forbidden love; it’s absorbed all my attention, all my emotions, all my reasoning.

  I go to bed and stare out the window; I forgot to draw the curtains, and moonlight illuminates the branches of the solitary tree outside. I toss and turn all night, tears soaking my pillow, my mind in a whirl. I’m torn… completely and utterly torn.

  I spend the week of Ryan’s exclusion feeling like a junkie in need of a fix. I’m tempted to text him to find out how he is, if he’s playing rugby and studying. But I stop myself even as I pick up my phone and tap on his name in my contacts. I should delete his number, but I can’t… I simply can’t.

  He doesn’t call or message me either. Unhappiness pangs in my gut, and the ache in my heart is a million times worse than I felt after Paulo dumped me. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can barely function.

  His first day back at school following his suspension, I’m a nervous wreck. It’s all I can do to sit calmly at my desk while I wait for Year 13 to arrive. Butterflies flutter in my tummy, and the palms of my hands are clammy with sweat.

  He strolls into the classroom as if he’s never left, and takes his usual seat at the end of the middle row. He removes his jacket, and hangs it on the back of his chair. He stretches out his long muscular legs, and his deep blue eyes burn into me.

  I feel a blush creep up my neck and glance down at my laptop screen.

  Keep focused, Beth. Teach the class.

  We’re studying the Guillermo Del Toro film, Pan’s Labyrinth. The kids have prepared PowerPoint presentations on the different themes. Standing in front of my students, I feel Ryan’s lingering gaze on me again, licking every inch of my body. Jesus, what game is he playing now?

  Behave like his teacher, Beth.

  I rub my hands down my pencil skirt and fix him with a stern stare. “As you haven’t prepared a presentation for today, I’d like you to do so for next lesson,” I say. “Take three scenes and present to the class you
r thoughts on why you think the director chose them to show us he wanted the audience to believe that what happened was real.”

  “Yes, Miss,” he smirks.

  He spends the last part of the hour staring down at his lap. It’s obvious he’s on his phone. Students are not allowed to text during lessons… it’s against the rules, and even teachers are supposed to have their personal devices switched off while teaching.

  I catch his eye and lift a brow.

  He shakes his head and stares at his lap again.

  I’m about to reprimand him when the bell goes, and I can’t help a sigh of relief.

  I have a free lesson next, and go down to the staffroom for a cup of coffee before tackling some marking. Aled is in there, and he gives me a friendly smile. “I was hoping to catch you,” he says. “I need some help with the Duke of Edinburgh expedition training next month. We’re taking a group of Year 13s up to the Brecon Beacons. Would you be willing to lend a hand?”

  I can hardly say no; Aled gave up his own free time to help me out in Spain. “I’d enjoy that,” I say. And I would. The mountain range is an area of outstanding natural beauty and I haven’t hiked up there since I was at uni. “Count me in.”

  “Great,” he says. “I’ll send you over some leaflets about what’s involved. And there’s a stack of information online.”

  I smile. “You’re preaching to a convert, here. I participated in the scheme myself when I was at school.”

  “Ah. Don’t tell me. Let me guess. A posh all-girls school in Bristol?”

  “Yes,” I blush. Admitting to having been educated privately while teaching in the state sector is like admitting to sleeping with the enemy… the enemy being those in a position of privilege, ha. “Don’t hold it against me, Aled.”

  “Never,” he laughs.

  I take my leave of him, return to my classroom, and prepare to wade my way through a stack of exercise books, red pen in hand.

  A sudden image comes into my mind of Ryan, head bent over his phone, and I have a light-bulb moment. Was he texting me? I pull my own phone from my bag and switch it on. Four messages. All from him. Shit!

  I missed you all week. I thought you’d message to ask how I was. Told myself you didn’t care about me. Am I wrong?

  Jesus, he couldn’t be more wrong. I didn’t stop thinking about him. Not for one waking minute. I missed him; I missed him so much my body, mind and soul were aching for him.

  I tap on the next message.

  I’m watching you standing there in your sexy skirt and that blouse clinging to your puckered nipples. I’m hard for you, princesa. I’m thinking about when you let me suck your pretty tits, when I wrapped my arms around your beautiful ass and fingered your hot, wet pussy. Remember how I always hit your g-spot and got you off? I can’t believe it will never happen again. I just can’t.

  I suck in a breath, and touch my hand to my breasts. My entire body is on fire, and I give an aching lurch of want.

  Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about when you licked your own sweet juices off my fingers? When you begged me to fuck you? How my big cock filled your tight little pussy and you writhed on top of me like a ho? Don’t tell me you didn’t like it, Beth? Don’t fucking tell me it’s over between us. It will never be over between us.

  I close my eyes. Of course, I’ve thought about everything we did together. I’ve been thinking about it so much I’ve almost worn out my vibrator.

  You’re mine, Beth. And as soon as you realize that the better.

  Warmth spreads through me, and my stupid heart soars. I clutch my cell phone to my chest, and smile like an idiot.

  We’ll talk tomorrow, I respond. I owe him that, at least.

  16

  I’m waiting outside Beth’s classroom for my one-to-one session with her. I’m early… she’s teaching my sister’s class. I watch through the glass window in the door; she’s organised the group into two teams, and they’re running up to the smart board playing some kinda languages-learning game. She’s laughing and joking with them, totally at ease, whereas I’m standing here crapping myself. Is she gonna blow me off, again? I fucking hope not.

  Beth’s reactions yesterday, her blushes when she looked directly at me, her puckered nipples under her blouse, all proved she still has the hots for me. I bet her knickers were soaked. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent those SMSs? Maybe I shouldn’t have come onto her as strong? Joder, she needed to know how I felt.

  I glance at my watch and steady my breathing, moving my backpack round to the front of my body to hide the tent in my trousers. Just thinking about her has made me hard.

  The bell goes and Beth dismisses Sara’s class. Little sis troops past me with her new bestie, Nia, arms linked, and she gives me a smile so bright it could light up the world. “See ya later, chiquita,” I chuckle.

  Beth stands at the door, and I deliberately brush past her as I walk into the room. The feel of her soft curves against my hardness makes tingles flourish in my balls.

  Her gaze meets mine, and she adjusts those sexy glasses on her perfect nose. “Buenos días, Ryan.”

  I return her greeting and take a seat at the table in front of her desk; I glance away from her, pretending to be interested in the poster of a flamenco dancer she has pinned to the wall. Anything to distract the twitch in my cock.

  “Have you done that essay I set you?” she asks, her voice husky.

  I pull the paper out of my backpack and reach across to give it to her. Our fingers touch and she jumps back like she’s been burnt.

  I rake my eyes up and down her face, her neck, the outline of her beautiful breasts. I take in the dark circles under her eyes, and the fact that she seems to have lost weight. Is it because of me? “I’ve missed you, princesa. I’ve missed you so much.”

  Her hands are resting on her desk. She twists them together and starts to say something, but stops, checks herself, and releases a sigh. “I’ve missed you too.”

  She focuses her attention through the open door; she’s so fucking careful she never closes it when we’re on our own together. What’s she afraid of? That I’ll pin her to the wall and take her sweet pussy? The thought makes my dick weep.

  She passes me a past exam paper, taking care to avoid my touch. “Please do this for me, Ryan.”

  “With pleasure, Miss,” I smirk.

  There’s a whole lotta stuff I’d like to do to you, and it would be an absolute fucking pleasure, Beth. Both yours and mine.

  I start translating a text into English. It’s not as easy as it first appears. Being bi-lingual, I switch from one language to the other, no problem, but it’s not so simple to transfer meaning between the two… especially as I was taught written English as a second language in Spain. I crease my forehead, and tap my pen on the paper.

  “Need a hand?” she asks.

  I nod, and she gets to her feet, coming to the front of her desk and leaning over me. I breathe in her sweet floral scent and it’s all I can do not to jump up and crush her to me. “It’s this sentence here,” I point to the text, “in Spanish no tener pelos en la lengua, literally means not to have any hairs on your tongue, but I can’t think of a similar idiomatic English expression.”

  “Can’t you? What you would you say if a friend was being straightforward with you?”

  I think for a moment. “He’d be telling me like it is.”

  “See? You’ve got it. That’s exactly the right translation.”

  She smiles, and our eyes lock. Slowly, she lowers herself onto the spare seat next to me.

  I lean across to brush my lips to hers, and the taste of her… the feel of her, sets my heart racing.

  She lets out a shiver and jerks away from me, inhaling deeply… as if she’s testing the air between us. She takes off her glasses and rests them on the table.

  I grab her by the waist and swivel in my seat so my back shields her from the open door. I pull her into me, and she melds her tits against my chest. I cup her face and kiss her, my lips pre
ssing down hard. “Jesus, Beth,” I groan.

  She strokes the stubble on my face while I open my mouth and devour her like she’s my last fucking meal. My tongue is greedy, and I lick and taste every part of her delicious mouth as I swallow her needy moans.

  She pulls back and whispers, “Someone might see.”

  “Nah, I’m shielding you, princesa,” I groan.

  I trail my way southwards, I can’t resist, and I kiss her neck, her shoulders, her upper chest, all the way down to her cleavage. She lets out a gasp.

  I feel her hands on my shoulders, pushing. “Ryan, stop. We can’t do this here. We’ll be caught.”

  Our panting breaths touch, and we stare at each other, through each other. “I’m working tonight, and afterwards I’m coming to your flat.”

  “But…”

  I place my finger on her lips. “Shh… I’ll be there at the usual time. And don’t worry, I won’t force myself on you,” I wink. “We can just hang out, if you like.”

  “Hanging out would be nice,” she says, reaching for her glasses. “We need to talk again.”

  “Yeah, we do.”

  I go through the rest of the school day like an automaton. Not even PE sparks my interest. After I thank Mr Davis for sticking up for me with the head teacher, and he warns me against ever doing anything so stupid as manhandling a pupil again, I sit through his class on autopilot. He gives me extra homework to catch up on what I missed last week, and I move on to my next lesson, statistics… testing hypotheses… boring, boring, boring. I can’t wait for the final bell so I can work out in the gym; I need an adrenalin high like a pothead needs weed. I’m scared Beth is gonna ‘tell me like it is’ and blow me off once and for all.

  At last, my maths class is dismissed; I pack away my textbooks and race for the door. The gym is on the other side of the campus, but I get there in only a couple of minutes. I do a few push-ups then head for the bench press for weight training. Keeping my shoulder blades squeezed together and chest held high, I take a deep breath, arch my back and place my feet firmly on the floor to push off. Oomph! Slowly, I bring the bar down, touching it to my chest, then hyper explode by pushing it upwards and backwards in a small arc. Yeah!