Mr. Tucker

by Justine Elvira

  Suddenly, losing my virginity is starting to mean something to me and I don't want to just give it to some small town jock that only wants me long enough to get his dick wet. There's something about Mr. Tucker's strong body and soulful eyes that tells me he's passionate between the sheets. Maybe it's because he went to college and had to study to get his degree to become a teacher, but the dedication that he puts towards school and education must transfer to all aspects of his life. I want him to study my body and educate himself on all the areas that will make me scream.

  The bell rings and all five minutes of passing period have ended, making me late to history class.

  Shit.

  I don't even say goodbye as I lightly jog down the hall in my floral skirt, black tank top and black flats. Most of my clothes are hand-me-downs and if they're not given to me by one of my girls then they're purchased the two times a year I head into Knoxville and rummage my favorite thrift shop. Nothing I wear has ever been purchased or given to me new.

  When I walk in the door of history everyone is seated at their desks silently reading from their history books. The desk I sat in yesterday next to Chett is now taken by Melody Claire. Chett is leaning into her flirtatiously and it seems he's gotten over my rejection last night and moved on to his next victim.

  Melody switching desks means I'll need to sit in her empty seat, which is conveniently right in front of Mr. Tucker's desk.

  Stupid girl. She's the only one dumb enough to give up this prime piece of real estate. From here I'll be able to focus on every inch of Mr. Tucker instead of squinting my eyes from the back of the room.

  After sitting down in my new seat, Mr. Tucker walks over and places a small square sheet of yellow paper on my desk. He then addresses the class, letting us know today will go exactly as yesterday went as he'll be meeting with more students out in the hall. I look down at the yellow sheet of paper and it's a tardy slip and on the bottom, in small chicken scratch writing, Mr. Tucker has asked me to stay after class.

  I have another shift at the GG-mart so I don't have a lot of time to stay after school, but I won't pass up a free moment with my new teacher. Today he's in a navy lightweight sweater that's scrunched up to his elbows showing off his strong, muscular forearms. He's wearing gray dress slacks and gym shoes on his feet. His shoes are out of place with his outfit and the contrast causes my eyes to linger on his incredibly large feet. I wonder if the myth about shoe size and dick size is true. In Chett's case it was pretty accurate, which doesn't bode well for him and his small feet.

  History class passes slowly and when the last bell rings and my classmates start to leave it's another day I wasn’t called out in the hallway with Mr. Tucker. It sucks having a last name that starts with a letter so close to the end of the alphabet. I'm disappointed but I guess our short meeting after class will make up for it. I stay seated at my desk and after the last student leaves the room Mr. Tucker closes the door to give us privacy and then sits back down behind his desk, watching me thoughtfully before speaking.

  "May I ask why you're already showing up tardy to my class on the second day of school?" His voice is sincere and calm and for a second I almost think he's truly concerned, but I can’t let the fact that I have a schoolgirl crush get in the way of the facts. He's a teacher. He's required to be concerned about tardiness.

  "I was stopped at my locker by a group of friends and lost track of time. It won't happen again."

  He grabs a green folder from the top of a pile on the left side of his desk and opens it. I can see my name written clearly in black ink on the top right corner of the folder. "Your file says you were tardy fifty-nine times and had twenty-three unexcused absences last year. It's only the second day of school and you're already tardy for my class. It's your senior year and I really want this year to be a good one for you, and that starts with showing up to school and getting to class on time." He reaches over his desk and hands me a slip of paper with my attendance record from last year.

  "Mr. Tucker." Oh, my God, just calling him that causes me to have dirty thoughts. "I swear I planned on getting here on time. It was not intentional."

  "I'm sure it wasn't, but this is how patterns start and I want to nip this in the bud before you become comfortable being late to my class. Last night I was able to take a look at your file–"

  Leaning forward over my desk I interrupt him and ask, "You read my file last night. Why?"

  His eyes briefly flicker down to my chest before he clears his throat and brings his attention back to my face. It's then I realize the angle I'm leaning forward is giving him a perfect view of my tits and the cream lace bra covering them. I've never been more grateful that I inherited my tits from my father's side of the family and not my momma's. While I definitely look more like my mom and sister, they both have average chests. I have curves that Chett used to call dangerous. If my ass were to even accidentally brush up against one of the boys in my class they'd get instant hard-ons. I've felt their inappropriate boners plenty of times.

  "After meeting you last night and watching you work a tiresome, physically exhausting job, I was curious. I haven’t been in town long but based on my cousin and his friends' extra curricular activities I wasn't aware anyone at this school had it hard. That was until reading your file. It was the first time I truly realized some of the kids in this town aren't entitled, rich, spoiled brats."

  "I'm not a kid," I retort. "By the way you looked at my tits a second ago, I know you definitely don't look at me like one." I can’t believe I'm being so bold with him. I've never spoken to a teacher so openly before but something about Mr. Tucker causes my normal filter towards adults to disappear.

  He ignores my insinuation and continues talking as if I didn't just interrupt him. "I see now that you and a few of your other classmates come from a different, small area where your parents work hard for everything they have, or in your case, your single mother. After reading your file I see how rough you've had it and it's caused your grades to be poor. Quite frankly, I'm surprised you've made it to your senior year. Some of your test scores show you should have been held back, but something tells me the administration in this school lets you and the other students struggling slip through the cracks because they don't want to deal with the problem."

  Did he just call me dumb?

  Standing up from my desk I grab my textbook and notebook. I may have wanted to spend alone time with him but I definitely didn't sign up to be insulted. "Are we done here? My shift starts in twenty minutes."

  He adjusts his posture in his chair, taken back by my abruptness. "No, we're not finished, Savannah. I'd really like to talk about your goals this year and how I can help you accomplish a stimulating and fulfilling senior year. I can drive you when we're through."

  Holding my ground I reply, "I don't need a ride from you. I'd rather walk and if you're going to continue telling me how unintelligent I am you can stop talking. I hear enough of it outside of school. I don’t want to hear it from my teachers, too."

  He may be the most gorgeous man I've ever seen but nothing will ever make it okay for him to talk to me this way. If he really cared he would be looking out for me and considering my feelings, not implying that I'm dumb and shouldn't be in the twelfth grade.

  "That's not what I meant...I never meant to imply anything. You've got it all wrong, Savannah. As a matter of fact, I think you're extremely intelligent. Your tenth grade English teacher included one of your papers in your file and it really showcases just how intelligent and articulate you really are. I just think you're not given the opportunity to thrive in this environment. This school hasn't given you a chance. I want to give you that chance. You need a tutor."

  "A tutor? No, no way."

  "Don't shut down the idea just yet. There are a few tutors around here that can really help bring your grades up and are reasonably priced."

  "I can't afford a tutor."

  He hesitates for a moment, lifting the frame of his glasses up to his hairline so he ca
n rub the bridge of his nose. His eyes close as if he's trying to concentrate on an idea and I take this time to study his face. He has faint bags underneath his eyes and his nose is slightly larger than average but not too big that it's noticeable to anyone not reading him like a good, trashy book. His lips are perfect and pink and I want to know what they would feel like against mine. Before I can study more of him he opens his eyes and adjust his glasses back on his face. "I'll tutor you then. Thirty minutes every day, right after school."

  Thirty minutes alone with him every day sounds like the best damn offer I've ever heard, but I can't do it. I work right after school and there is no way my boss will let me come in thirty minutes later than I already do. He's already changed the schedule around for me to accommodate school.

  I take a step around my desk and Mr. Tucker stands up from behind his. His eyebrows lift in question and I lean over his large wooden desk purposely, hoping he'll sneak another peek at my rack, but he doesn’t take the bait. His eyes never leave mine.

  "I appreciate the offer, but I can’t stay after school. Remember, I have a job." My eyes shift to the clock on the wall behind him before I look back into his majestic grayish-blue eyes. "In fact, I'm going to be late for work if I don’t leave now. Thanks for the offer and your concern, Mr. Tucker, but I'll get by."

  He stuns me with his persistence when he continues, "I really wish you would reconsider, Savannah. These tutoring sessions will really change your grades around and set you up perfectly for community college next year."

  I don't respond with words and laugh instead. Walking to the door I open it and leave the classroom, never glancing back, even though the concupiscence part of me was dying to see his sexy body one last time today.

  I appreciate Mr. Tucker's concern for me, and his confidence in my bright future if I apply myself but college is not in the cards. School has never been my thing and I'm not going to let anyone change my mind on that, not even my hot new history teacher.

  Chapter Four

  October

  "Have you decided what the theme will be at your annual Halloween party?" Jo Lynne asks Anna Belle as she takes another bite of her Cobb salad. Salad is the staple lunch item amongst my friends, while I'm usually eating a homemade PB&J sandwich.

  I wish I could put in my two cents about the Halloween party but I'm focused on other things. We're six weeks into the school year and my head is barely above water. My aunt lost her job at the plant after suffering a fall and being put in a leg cast. Her loss of income and my mother's lack of any income means I've had to step up and take on more hours at the GG-mart. I'm pulling in thirty-five hours a week now on top of coming to school and hanging with my friends. The schedule is killing me mentally and physically.

  I really wish my mother would pick up the slack and find a job so that I could focus more on being a regular seventeen-year-old girl. Her deep depression mixed with a QVC addiction makes it impossible to get through to her. For a long time she would take the money I earned and spend it on useless things she'd see on TV. Once I realized why the bills weren't being paid I stopped giving her the money I earned and started paying the bills directly myself.

  Now we're six weeks into the school year and I've already missed six days of school and I've been tardy fourteen times. I'm barely passing four of my classes and I'm failing history. To be fair, my F in history isn't only because of my attendance. A large part of it can only be blamed on Mr. Tucker and the fact that the only thing I'm studying in class is his hard body, full lips, and the reaction my body gets every time I hear the purr of his voice. The last few days I've seriously considered dropping out altogether and getting my GED as soon as things turn around and my aunt's healthy and able to get a new job.

  "Leather and lace. I don’t care what you dress up as, as long as you're in leather and lace, and look hot enough to fuck. I want all the jocks to be there and Chett promised they would be as long as the girls dress slutty–hence the leather and lace."

  My friends continue to talk about Anna Belle's party but I can't make the effort to join in. I love Halloween and I love her parties, but this year I'm not sure if I'll be able to make it. I'm supposed to work a shift that night. I can't miss a shift for a party. My boss is usually never there and Dylan has been a great help these last few weeks, teaching me parts of the job I never had to do before. I don't expect to work this job for the rest of my life but for the time being it's paying the bills and I can't lose it.

  "Savannah, you're coming to the party, right?"

  I look up from my sandwich to three sets of eyes staring at me intensely, waiting for an answer. "Yeah, of course. I just can't decide if I want to be a sexy Batgirl or virginal Madonna."

  My friends laugh and then the bell rings and I'm glad to end the conversation before they ask me more questions and I'm forced to lie. Anna Belle will never forgive me if I miss her party. Our friendship is superficial like that.

  I wish the rest of the day went by uneventful, but that would not be my luck. In English class we were asked to spend the fifty-minute class period writing a free verse poem about something that interests us. I had no idea what the fuck a free verse poem was so instead I thought about Mr. Tucker and created the type of poem you might find in a children's book–if the children's book were actually X-rated written porn. The poem I wrote went something like this:

  Oh, Mr. Tucker,

  I bet you're a good fucker,

  I want to lick you like a sucker,

  Until you come on my pouty pucker.

  It could be our little secret,

  I'll never tell a soul,

  I want you to ravish my body with your tongue,

  And slip your hard cock into my dark, warm hole.

  You'd make me scream,

  I'd be your little wet dream,

  Come to life with our dirty scheme,

  And I'm covered in your white cream.

  Oh, Mr. Tucker,

  Please show me you're a great fucker,

  Let me lick your hard cock like a sucker,

  Come all over my pouty pucker.

  When the bell rang I broke out of my daydream and stood up with the rest of the class. Our teacher called for us to hand our poems in and like the trained group of dogs we are, we all stood in line to hand her our poetry. I had no clue what I had written and was just impressed to see that there were words scribbled down. It wasn't until I stood in front of Ms. Kielly and looked down at the college-ruled notebook paper that I noticed the inappropriate, X-rated words written in front of me.

  There was no way in hell I could turn it in. Not only would I be embarrassed about my crush, I'm pretty sure I'd also be expelled. Crumpling the paper into a ball I held it tight and ran out of the room. I'd take the F as long as no one saw the poem I mindlessly wrote in class.

  Now I'm in history, reciting the poem over and over in my head like a bad song I can't get out, and watching Mr. Tucker's ass while he writes on the whiteboard. Based on his illegible writing, today we're discussing politics since next year is an election year. He has many of the suspected Republican and Democrat candidates' names listed on the board. When he turns around that panty-dropping sexy smile of his crosses his face and it causes my panties to get wet.

  See, this is why I fucking can't concentrate in this class.

  "I'm not sure how many of you follow politics. It can be an overwhelming subject to dive into but it's important for you, one of the younger generations in America, to know what each candidate can offer our country. You should know what laws, subjects, and views are important to you before deciding on a party or candidate. The primary elections are what go on in each party between all eligible candidates and you're able to vote for who you want to represent your party.

  "The names on the board are potential candidates and top runners for each party right now. Some of these people have already announced that they will be running in the primary, others are expected to announce soon. While each individual wants to represent their
party and share similar views, not all of their views are the same. You'll find a Republican who is pro-life but unlike his party wants stricter gun laws. You'll find a Democrat who's actively fighting for equality and social justice, wants the wealthy to have higher taxes, but unlike his party is a registered gun holder and believes everyone has the right to bear arms. While each side seems drastically different on paper, over the years the lines have started to blur in certain areas depending on the candidate.

  "This coming election all of you will be eighteen and will be able to vote for the first time. It's a privilege and responsibility that should not be taken lightly. That's why two days every month we're going to focus on current events and what's going on in politics regarding the upcoming election. Today when I call on you I want to know what you know about the potential candidates on the board. By the end of class I hope to have a good starting point on your political knowledge and by May I hope you will all feel more confident talking about these issues with your peers and family.

  "This will hopefully be a fun couple days each month in class and the goal is to educate, not to persuade you to pick one party over the other."

  A few kids in class raise their hands and Mr. Tucker calls on someone behind me. "Yes, Jordan?"

  "Are you a Democrat or Republican?"

  "That's a great question but one I'm not comfortable answering, especially because I need to be impartial during our discussions. This is more about which side you identify with, not me. Remember, we'll be learning about other sides, too. There are many third party options. Some call themselves Socialists, there's also the Green Party and the Tea Party, or you can run as an independent. There are many options to choose from."