"I'm a one woman man," began Mr. Reynolds, a cryptic smile shaping his lips.

Though no reason had been provided, James had been told to stay after class, and he was puzzled, not quite meeting his teacher's very green eyes. They were enchantingly pale, irises weaved of sage leaves and left to dry within the confines of a heated gaze. The adolescent squirmed, looked further away, but he could still feel the man's look upon him...What did he want? He hadn't done anything wrong, but Mr. Reynolds had been so insistent he stay. He'd touched his shoulder, leaned close, and whispered that they really needed to talk, a voice defined sharply against the general murmur of his peers. Now he was just staring intently, and James felt his cheeks flush. He opened his mouth but could conjure no words, intimidated. He was an intelligent student but by no means the sort to argue with his educator-

Especially his English teacher. He adored the man, often found himself thinking of him outside of the classroom. He'd wondered what he looked like naked, and the images he created appeared, malformed over Mr. Reynolds clothing. He blushed all the redder and couldn't move, when the other finished in a whisper, "And I've had my one, thank God... You know who said that, Jim?"

He shook his head, and Mr. Reynold's slid a gold ring off his wedding finger. "Simon Grey. I'm getting divorced, next week. Don't ever marry, Jim. You're a smart boy...How many girls have you been with?"

"Three."

"Sexually," Mr. Reynolds clarified.

James's mouth went dry, "One."

"You didn't like it."

So stark, yet he wondered how Mr. Reynolds knew. Dumbfounded, he could do little more than nod. A hand appeared upon his thigh, and it took him a minute to realize it belonged to Mr. Reynolds, closer and closer to his crotch. He swallowed thickly. "Mr. Reynolds..."

"Matthew," he corrected, and James only had one woman.