Mr. Tucker

by Justine Elvira

  Mr. Tucker answers a few more questions and then we start actively discussing the names on the board. I try and pay attention. I definitely learn more about politics today than I knew before–like how I shouldn't pick a candidate based on his or her religion, race, or gender. It should be about the policies.

  When the final bell rings I reluctantly stand up and start to collect my things. I'm always a little down when I have to leave this class because it means I'll have to go another twenty-three hours and ten minutes without seeing him.

  Mr. Tucker's voice interrupts my thoughts. "Savannah, can you stay after for a minute."

  A few of my classmates look at me with questioning expressions. When Chett's eyes meet mine in concern, I roll my eyes and shrug my shoulders like it's no big deal before sitting back in my chair as I wait for Mr. Tucker to finish cleaning the board in front of me.

  Just like our last meeting at the beginning of the school year, Mr. Tucker closes the classroom door after the last student leaves and sits down behind his desk.

  "How's the school year going so far?" he asks, concern evident on his face. His hands come up to remove the thin-framed glasses from his face and he leans over his desk.

  His interest in me isn't going to suddenly make me confess my problems. "The fact that you're holding me after class makes it clear that you know exactly how school is going for me this year."

  "You're failing my class, Savannah."

  Shrugging my shoulders I reply, "History is not my thing."

  "You're barely passing your other classes."

  "Okay, school is not my thing."

  Squinting his eyes he steeples his fingers in front of his mouth thoughtfully. "How's your job going at the GG-mart? I've heard you’re working over there more than usual."

  I've waited on Mr. Tucker two times over the last several weeks so it's not enough for him to know my schedule. As if he can read my mind he adds, "Teachers talk. I'm not the only member of the staff concerned about you, Savannah."

  "I've had to pick up some extra hours each week because my aunt got injured and lost her job. It's no big deal."

  Why do I feel like I always have to defend myself in front of him?

  "It's a big deal when it threatens the chance of you graduating. If you don’t pass history you don't graduate."

  My eyes begin to well with tears and I take a few deep breaths in an attempt to stop myself from crying in front of him. It works. Once I'm in control of my emotions I state, "I can't pull back on my hours. We need the money."

  "Okay, I can understand that. Can you start your shift thirty minutes later? I just need thirty minutes with you after school each day and I think it will make a huge difference."

  The periwinkle sweater he's wearing today brings out the hint of purple in his eyes and I'm mesmerized by the beautiful color in his irises when he speaks. It's amazing how a little fleck of color can suck me in and hold me captive. I'm so captivated that I don't answer his question. He clears his throat and the sound has me looking away and inhaling a deep breath.

  "No. I'm sorry, I can’t, Mr. Tucker. I start my shift at four every day and don't get off until nine. Then I walk forty minutes home, shower, and go to bed. There's no free time. I work five hours each Saturday and Sunday, too. With the walk to and from work I'm gone for over six hours each weekend day."

  Leaning back in his chair he watches me for a second and the smoldering look he's giving me along with the way he's leaning back with his feet crossed in front of him induces more impure thoughts. I'd like to meet him on the other side of his desk, drop to my knees and suck him off as his head falls back along the top of the chair and he comes down my throat.

  His hands begin to absentmindedly play with the ruler on his desk and my thoughts quickly shift from blowjobs to Mr. Tucker bending me over his desk, pulling my panties down, and spanking my bare ass over and over again until it's swollen and red from his ruler.

  His fingers drop the ruler and then he's pulling out his phone and tapping and swiping away. I'm slightly annoyed watching him play on his phone when he's the one who asked me to stay after class. If I'm here much longer I'm going to be late for my shift at the GG-mart. I wish he were a little more considerate of my schedule.

  "Okay," he says, interrupting my thoughts. "This might work. You get off at nine each school night?"

  "Yes..." I trail off, unsure where he's going with this.

  "I'll pick you up at nine every night," he confidently offers. "We can head to the library and study for thirty minutes each night and then I'll drive you home."

  Oh, God, no. How mortifying. He can’t drop me off and see where I live.

  "That's not–"

  "Savannah, this is the last option you have. You need to graduate from high school. Even if you don't plan on attending college, most jobs require a high school diploma. We'll work for thirty minutes each evening after your shift and then I'll drive you home. What's your shift schedule on the weekends?"

  "I work twelve to five pm on Saturdays and Sundays."

  "All right. Be ready by ten each weekend morning. I'll pick you up and we'll head to the library for an hour before I drive you to work. This is...well, it's probably frowned upon by the school board but you're my student and I want you to succeed. It’s the best option we have."

  There's a large part of me that's unhealthily excited he's willing to make this time for me but my spare time is scarce as it is. If I meet with him, too, I'll never go to a party ever again. "What about my social life? Adding in all this studying time will give me no time with my friends."

  "Spoken like a true teenager, complaining about hanging out with friends." His condescending tone is a little off-putting. "You'll still have your Saturday nights."

  "I need to think about it."

  "No, Savannah." His voice is strong and demanding, riling up the vixen inside me with just a couple words. I can picture him making commands in the bedroom. I'd let him instruct me and be my drill sergeant any day as long as he drills his cock inside me at the same time. "You will try this out and you'll give it a month. If in a month your grades aren't improving and you want to quit on me then you can stop being tutored." He pauses and then adds, "I'll even sweeten the deal a little." He winks at me and my heart flutters. Is he flirting with me?

  "Sweeten the deal how?" I ask skeptically. I can think of a hundred different ways to sweeten the deal but they’re sexual, illegal, and highly unethical.

  "On the weekends I'll bring strong coffee and breakfast, and as long as you don’t blow off any of our sessions I'll guarantee you a B in my class."

  Okay, that's a pretty sweet deal, too.

  "You'll guarantee me a B. What if I don't earn a B?"

  "Just by showing up to each study session and actively participating you'll have earned your B. It takes a huge commitment to agree to this. I know what I'm asking of you will not be easy but it's what needs to be done in order for you to turn your grades around."

  This deal seems too good to be true. I can definitely work this into my schedule. It won't really even take away that much time with my girls. It also means some one-on-one time with Mr. Tucker. I can use these study sessions to start baiting him in. By the few subtle glances he's made my way over the past six weeks I know he's attracted to me. He's probably beating himself up over the whole thing, too. This is the perfect opportunity to flirt a little and show him I'm interested.

  "Okay, I'll do it."

  "Really?" he asks skeptically. I don't think he expected me to give in without more of a fight.

  "Don't sound so surprised. You knew I wasn't going to resist an easy B. This extra attention you'll be giving me might make other girls jealous. If I didn't know any better I'd think you like me."

  His grin fades as his expression becomes serious. "I like and show interest in all my students, Savannah. It's my job as your teacher to take interest in your life. Don’t mistake these study sessions for anything else. You can go on to work now and I'll be the
re at nine to pick you up."

  "You want to start tonight?"

  "Absolutely, there's no time like the present."

  ***

  With fifteen minutes left of my shift I beg Dylan to let me take a five-minute break to freshen up in the bathroom before my ride gets here. I didn't tell him my ride was a male, or my history teacher, but by the way I was nervously fidgeting around all throughout my shift, it was clear that I was anticipating whoever was picking me up.

  "I take it you and jock-boy are over?" Dylan asks me as I step back behind the counter after combing through my hair and reapplying my make-up in the bathroom. I've slipped back into a crochet white lace skirt, black flats, and black racer back tank I wore to school. I seem to be wearing a lot of black lately. I should change that up.

  "We were never together, but yes, we're over. How did you know?"

  "Because you never put any effort in getting ready the few times he came here and picked you up."

  "That's because he was a child and I never gave a fuck what he thought about me."

  Dylan steps into my body, reaching a hand up to play with a strand of my loose hair. My breath catches but I'm not turned on like I would have been two months ago. "You're a child, too, Savannah. You still have two months until you’re out of your adolescence."

  "Six weeks, not two months. December second can't come fast enough." I step out of his reach and walk around to the other side of the counter to create some distance between us. I don't want Mr. Tucker to show up and think anything more is going on between Dylan and me than there is. Sure, he's older and hot, but he doesn't make my pussy wet the way Mr. Tucker does.

  His timing is impeccable because just when I need him Mr. Tucker pulls up in his Prius, tripping the chime of the full-service bell. Tearing off my vest I toss it at Dylan. "That's my ride. I'll see you tomorrow."

  Once I’m outside, I approach Mr. Tucker's door just as he opens it and climbs out. "Do you need a fill-up before we leave?" I ask, surprised he got out of the car and not sure what else to say to him.

  "I was here three days ago, Savannah. I practically have a full tank." Walking over to the passenger side, Mr. Tucker opens the door for me and I slip inside the small car and buckle my seatbelt. He's back behind the wheel in a matter of seconds and then we're off to the library.

  "After you left my classroom today I spent the next hour going over your class schedule and missed assignments. I was shocked how many assignments you're missing. Ms. Kielly said you ran out of her class today without turning in your poetry."

  If he's smart he'll find a new subject to talk about because I doubt he'll want to read the poem I came up with in class and didn't turn in.

  "After speaking with your teachers they agreed to give you near full credit if you turn your late assignments in. You'll only get a grade deduction, which is pretty incredible and generous of them if you ask me. If they abided by the school standard you'd only get partial credit. You see, Savannah, we all believe in you."

  "That was nice of you, Mr. Tucker. I really appreciate it." The fact that he's working this hard to help me out brings on a brand new set of emotions. No one has ever given a shit about me before. I have a mother and sister who love me, but while they love me they aren't concerned with how I'm doing or my grades. My mother's never gone to one parent-teacher conference. Before Mr. Tucker I've never even had a teacher pull me aside and offer to get me a tutor. He's the first and the thoughtfulness is overwhelming.

  "We're not in class right now, Savannah. You can call me Landon outside of school hours."

  "Okay...Landon." My God, he even has a hot guy name. Where did he come from? I suddenly want to know everything I can possibly know about him. Instead of studying history I want to study the history of Landon. Does he have a girlfriend? Where did he grow up? What made him decide to be a teacher? Why did he move here? Does he like his family? What does he do for fun? The questions are endless.

  When we pull up to the library there's only one car in the parking lot and all the lights inside are turned off. "Um, Landon, there's a problem in your plan. I think the library's closed."

  "Dammit," he mumbles as his hands lightly hit the steering wheel. The muscles in his forearm twitch from the force and I find my eyes trailing up his bare forearm until his skin meets the edge of his sleeve. "I guess I didn't think this through." Looking over at me he adds, "Shouldn't you know when the library closes? You've lived here your entire life."

  Smirking over at him as I raise my eyebrows in response, I say, "In all my seventeen years I've never once been to the library."

  He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, "Right...seventeen," and then we're both quiet for a moment. I'm not sure if he realizes I heard him but as the silence stretches the palpable tension in the small car grows, only broken by the soft sounds of crickets in the brush a few feet away from his car.

  "Is your mother home?" he asks suddenly. "We can study at your place each night as long as she's there."

  "She's home and so is my aunt, but they'll never let us study there. It's small, dirty, and cramped at my place and my mother doesn't like strangers."

  "I'm not a stranger, I'm your teacher."

  "Same difference to her. She never meets my teachers. What about the school? We can go back to the classroom and study."

  "Only the janitors have the security code that will get me in this late at night. Dammit, and there's no Starbucks we can work at in this small town. Sorry, I shouldn't be cussing in front of you."

  "It's fine. We could always go back to your place and study?"

  His face turns pale with a slightly green tint to it before he responds, "That's a really bad idea, Savannah. I could get in a lot of trouble having a student in my home."

  His discomfort at the idea is causing my heart to race with excitement. "I won't tell anyone. Plus, you're the one who said I needed these sessions. Your place is our only option."

  Ignoring me he says more to himself, "There has to be somewhere else to study in this town."

  "If you have an alternative I'm all for it, Landon, but I don't think you're going to find one and I'm not coming in before school to study, you can forget it." At this point I probably would figure out a way to come in before school but I'll never tell him that because then that's what we would do. I much rather watch him battle with his conscience before agreeing to tutor me in the privacy of his home.

  Because we all know he's going to let me.

  I try not to watch him while he contemplates what to do but it's hard not to when I can feel his eyes on me, lingering on my thighs and chest. He's trying to hide his attraction to me but I can read him like a good, smutty book.

  After another few moments of contemplation he concedes. "We'll try it at my place, but if you say anything to anyone I could lose my job, Savannah. You need to promise me you won't tell any of your friends you're getting privately tutored at my house."

  "Privately, huh?" I lean in and rest my hand on his shoulder before boldly whispering in his ear, "I like the idea of some privacy between us."

  He stiffens, his Adam's apple moving as he swallows hard, and then he's delicately pushing me away and back over to my side of the car. "You can't say things like that, Savannah. I knew this was a bad idea. If you're going to make passes at me this will never work. I should just drive you home."

  He starts to pull out of the parking lot and I know he's serious about changing his mind. I was too aggressive too soon. I should have realized he wasn't ready yet for my forwardness. He needs to be broken in and now that I've spent the last few minutes with him I don't want to leave him so suddenly. Home is the last place I want to be.

  "I'm sorry. I was just goofing around. I won't do it again."

  "It's fine, Savannah, but I still think this is a bad idea. Let me take you home."

  I rest my hand on his shoulder again, this time in panic and not to entice him. "Please, Landon. I really need to get my grades up and a B in hist
ory would really help my GPA. Can you accept my apology and please give this a try?"

  We're at the stop sign in the center of town. I get the impression that if he's read my file so thoroughly then he knows where I live. If he turns left there's only one place he could be going, which means I didn't get through to him and he'll be driving me home. The next few seconds will decide my fate.

  After a moment or two of my insides feeling like they're being ripped out from internal agony Landon makes a right. "We'll try this out but if you get flirty or this starts to feel inappropriate at all then the tutoring sessions at my house are over."

  "Inappropriate how?" I don't know why I push him with this question but I need to know what he means. Is he worried things could get inappropriate between us? Does he want me as bad as I want him because right now I want to jump over the center console, straddle his waist and dry hump him the rest of the way to his place until I'm coming from the friction of him alone.

  "I'm serious, Savannah," he says sternly.

  "All right, all right. I'll take this seriously."

  "And on the weekends the school will be open because of sporting events so we'll study in my classroom on Saturdays and Sundays."

  "Sounds like a plan."

  "Great."

  "Great." I smile victoriously to myself because despite what he's said and the distance he's trying to create between us, I already know I've won. Mr. Tucker will give in eventually.

  Chapter Six

  "Did you get his number for me?" I ask Addison excitedly as I slide in next to her on one of the benches in our school's courtyard.

  She looks over her shoulder discreetly, making sure no one is watching our exchange. When she's satisfied that no one's watching she reaches into the front of her shirt and removes a small slip of paper from the cup of her bra. "Here you go."

  I grab the folded paper from her hands and open it, revealing the ten-digit number I texted her for the night before. "Why did you write it down and hide it in your bra instead of just texting it to me like a normal person?"