Chapter 4: Another day at work.
(A.N) Italics used for the voice inside his head.
Lack of reviews is nothing new. I am more than familiar with it.
*shrouds himself in a dark aura*
I
The next day I had plans to spend some time with my girlfriend. I debated whether that was a good idea. On one hand, maybe she could take my mind off of things and on the other hand I was so wrecked with guilt and apprehension that I couldn't deal with it. I ended up telling her that I was feeling sick and called it off.
The rest of the weekend was a dull blur. At some point I was lying on my bed, exhausted. Heena called and said she was going to come over and check on me. Somehow, I persuaded her to stay away. Clearly I was too sick; I might be contagious. Just wait a few days. My room smells like sweat and sex.
I even thought about calling in sick to work. The closer Monday came, the more I dreaded seeing Samiksha. Eventually I resolved to go in; because if I didn't show up, then shewould know why. Like hell I was going to willingly let her think that she had any power over me. Even if she does.
When I went to bed Sunday night, I actually managed to convince myself to be somewhat confident. My attempts to rationalize and belittle the importance of the eventwere at least mildly successful. I was sure that, once back in the familiar domain of my classroom, I would be able to assert my authority over Samiksha. I would tell her after the class, in no uncertain terms, that I had zero interest in her. And that given the circumstances, I am willing to forget her transgression and not get her in trouble.
Monday arrived. Things were going well in the morning even if I wasglancing at the clock every three minutes, mentally calculating the time left until Samiksha's arrival. At least I didn't feel nervous, not until the bell rang anyway. Then my heartbeat began to pick up and my anxiety crept around my chest. She had five minutes to get into the room. Each time the door swung open, I glanced over. Shots of relief and irritation flashed through me each time it wasn't her.
I'm not sure exactly whatI would feel when she did comes in. Part of me expected her to enter wearing something scandalous, something sexy and revealing. After all, that's how I've been picturing her all weekend. So, it was almost anti-climactic when she waltzed in wearing just jeans and a sweatshirt. Never mind the fact that a little bit of me was disappointed. Wasn't she trying to seduce me, after all?
Not that I wantedher to be seductive or anything…
Class proceeded at a fair routine and Samiksha was almost boring. All weekend I had imagined her in some revealing outfit, showing off that teenage body. Sometimes she would be insinuatingly sucking on a lollipop, smiling at me, showing off her skin, but nothing happened of that sorts. I'm not even sure if she really looked at me. Of course I kept stealing looks at her but the most I got out of her was a shy smile when I caught her doodling.
As the end of the period drew near, I felt my palms getting a little sweaty. It was ridiculous. I was planning on telling Samiksha to stay after the bell for a minute. Then I would put an end to whatever was happening. I don't know if her nonchalant demeanor made me more nervous or less. Part of it made me feel stupid. Maybe I was completely overreacting. Bullshit. She kissed me for fuck's sake. I actually felt nervous about approaching her though. Yeah, I was intimidated by my own teenage student, my own hot, flirty teenage student.
Ring. Class was over. All sound was drowned out by the din of a roomful of hungry students shuffling out of their seats and heading for the door. I caught Samiksha's attention to tell her to come to my desk, but she was already on her way. Gulp.
She had a paper in her hand. "I worked on my story over the weekend," she said sweetly, stretching out to hand it to me.
"Oh, that's good. Actually I was hoping I could speak with you a minute about it. Before you go." I took the paper.
"Um, I guess so…" She said it like she was annoyed, but I knewthere was a flirty little smile under there. Or did I just want there to be one…
Before I could respond, two of my other students approached my desk, waving their papers. It was some of my college-bound overachievers. Shit. I knew I would never hear the end of their bitching sycophancy. They immediately piped up, saying they wanted to talk about their submissions as well.
Samiksha rolled her eyes and looked expectantly at me. She knows. There was no way I could talk to her about it in front of any other students. And the others weren't going to leave anytime soon. I tried to tell them that I would talk to them after I looked over their own comments, but no, they had to speak with me now.
Samiksha interrupted, "It's okay, I'll go. We can talk about it later if you want. You should probably read my new stuff first anyway."
She left the classroom. I watched her go. I hadn't noticed before, but her jeans waspretty tight after all. Such a nice ass… For a brief moment I forgot that there were other students there, looking at me, and looking at me looking at her. I felt my face start to grow hot as I turned to face them. Fearing they knew my thoughts, I blurted, "You know, you are capable of waiting your turn, instead of running your peers off."
They suddenly squirmed into bashful apologies, not wanting to be on my bad side when their grade was on the line. Kiss-asses.
I was rather abrupt and terse with them for the next fifteen minutes. Mostly from my own emotional state, but I'm pretty confident they thought I was just irritated at their manners. I breathed an annoyed sigh as soon as they left and the room was empty. Rubbing my temples with one hand, I slid my desk drawer open and pulled out my lunch, tossing it on the desk.
Then I saw her paper.
My heart skipped a beat. Don't read it now. Whatever it is, just read it after school at home. You wouldn't read any other student's paper at lunch. I pushed my chair back and stood up, resolving to go to the teacher's lounge and put all this out of my head. But I didn't even make it to the hallway before I turned around and sunk back into my chair with an irritated grunt.
There was no helping myself. I pulled the paper up and saw a written comment from her, scrawled under mine in big bubbly letters that only a teenage girl would do.
"I still think my plot is good. It can keep adding on in fun ways. Just try the next part."
So she didn't change her submission at all. Shit. I thumbed through the pages until I got to the newest addition, freshly stapled onto the back. My manhood started involuntarily twitching before I read the first word.
'She was so sure that she saw him staring at her in the gym… Could he really be interested? As the week went on, she started to doubt herself. Maybe she was imagining it… Maybe it was even wishful thinking…'
What the hell was this? My brain tried to process the thought that she was actually going to push this further. I skimmed through the pages, past her ruminating about seeing her teacher in a different light… On to the bar…
'So she danced on in her little schoolgirl outfit. She knew all the older men were looking at her. It wasn't the first time it had happened. She liked it, but for some reason it just wasn't as thrilling as being watched by him, like on the treadmill. As she twisted and turned, her eyes closed and picturing him, she almost thought she imagined hearing his voice call out her name. She looked anyway and felt like a bucket of cold water was thrown on her when she actually saw her teacher… another encounter!'
Uh huh, very clever. Or maybe I didn't think that. My thought process was probably more to the effect of: holy shit was she fantasizing about me?
As desperate as I was to read every word, I restlessly flipped the page and skipped ahead a little. She talked about being nervous about having to leave the bar. About her parents finding out. About getting into her teacher's car. She talked about trying to flirt a little while driving, then feeling embarrassed about it. It was always so easier to read boys of her age.
'When they pulled up to her house, she couldn't ignore the butterflies in her stomach. She wasn't sure. She thought he might like her. He seemed so flustered, not at all like he is when he's teaching. She looked down and was about to say goodbye when she saw it. He was excited for her. Her heart swelled into her chest with inward pleasure. She thought about saying something about it, she almost did, but then without even thinking, she just leaned forward and kissed him!'
My mouth was dry as I read her version of the events. I kept shifting awkwardly in my seat, squirming from my pounding hard-on. I couldn't believe this. This was terrible. This was amazing.
She detailed how I… or rather, "the teacher," kissed her back and how much she liked it. As she left and went back into her house, she was so happy. But she didn't want to freak him out, so she would play it down at school. But she couldn't wait until their next encounter somewhere.
'Maybe she would leave it to fate. But maybe she would have to take fate into her own hands…'
Okay. A little over-dramatic. What do you expect from a high-schooler? But who gives a rat's ass. I wasn't thinking objectively about the quality of her writing. I was thinking, rather haphazardly, that Samiksha wanted to fuck me.
But then I thought, she never actually said anything about having sex. That's just what you want her to want…
II
The day couldn't end soon enough. Loath to admit it, but I was desperate to get home. I needed time to read her paper again, thoroughly this time. And I wanted to make sure I would be alone. No students walking in. No other teachers, just me and my fantasies about Samiksha with my hand down my pant.
And that's just what happened. As soon as I reached my place I had threw all my things to the side except for Samiksha's paper. I sank into the couch, irritated at my own hustle but powerless to do anything about it. My manhood was throbbing in my trouser ever since I got in my car. My body was so on edge that I barely got through a few paragraphs before my hips jerked and I came forcefully in my clothes. God, I can't even help myself. With the tension released, I once again was flooded with guilt and fear of what was happening. I had to stop this somehow. She can't keep writing this story, or worse, thinking that whatever was happening could be allowed to continue.
At first I resolved to confront her the next day at school. I would find a way to get her alone, no matter what. Then I realized, to hell with that. I'd wait a few days. Make her sweat it out. Nonchalance and disinterest was the way to go. I wasn't going to come off desperate in front of her. Not anymore than I already have.
Of course, that didn't stop my curiosity from getting the better of me later that evening. After I ate some dinner, I rummaged through the closet and found the previous class's yearbook. I thumbed through the pages and found her photo. She definitely looked younger; a year is a long time for a teenager. Still definitely cute; although I would have never started obsessing over her. Hell, I never would have if it wasn't for that day at the gym.
I continued to turn through the pages, taking in all of the larger pictures entered into the book: events, clubs, and random snapshots of high school life. I ignored the part of myself that was calling me a pervert for what I was looking for. Especially when I came upon what I wanted.
I didn't know if there'd be another picture of Samiksha somewhere in the yearbook but there was. She was standing in the middle of two other girls at some sports game; all their arms upraised showing "number one". She was wearing those tiny shorts and a tank-top, which pulled up to show her flat stomach from her pose.
Her friends didn't even register to me. They were probably just as cute. One even had nicer tits. But I didn't care at all about them (the girls, not the tits). I just saw her, her innocent face and that tight little body. I don't know what I got off on more: those little shorts showing off her legs, or all that young skin bared from her shirt. Or maybe it was just that I was so helpless that I couldn't stop jerking off to her no matter what or that I'd resort to digging up a picture from her as a junior to get my fix. It was so fucked up. But it made me come so hard.
I was so mad at myself but I didn't pretend like I could stop anymore. All I cared about was giving Samiksha the impression that I didn't want her. I could deal with my own feelings until the end of the school year, and then it'd be over. That didn't mean I couldn't rip that page out of the yearbook and stuff it in drawer under my bed. I knew I'd need to use it again later.
The next few days were awkward. I kept to my plan of playing cool in class and not confronting Samiksha right away. Even though every day I saw her, my nerves rattled and demanded I just get it over with. But nothing interesting happened. She didn't wear anything outrageous. She didn't flirt with me or really give me any signs at all.
Every once in a while I'd see a sly little look from her, but I was convinced that I had imagined it. Let's face it, I'd been jerking off to her every day now. As much as I didn't want her to be serious about the whole thing I wanted to see her give me a signal.
I finally got something on Thursday. Another student asked if I had read their latest revisions on their stories. As soon as he asked, I carefully eyed Samiksha's reaction. Her eyes shot up from her paper that she'd been scribbling on. She was interested! This thought was accompanied simultaneously by an exuberant 'yes!' and terrified 'shit!'
I answered that I still had a couple submissions left. They would be finished by the end of the school day, and I'd hand them back on Friday. If they were truly desperate, they could come in after the last bell and pick it up early. I already knew at least a handful of students would take me up on it. What I was curious about, obviously, was if she would.
The minutes dragged on slowly for the rest of the afternoon, that very question weighing on my mind the entire time. School ended at 2:00. At 2:05, the first few students trickled in. Some just took their papers right away and left. Others stayed to look over them and discuss them with me. Ordinarily I would have told them to wait at least a day, if not the whole weekend, before jumping to questions. Today however, I was generous with my time. I kept eyeing the door just in case…
By 2:30, my room was once again empty. She didn't show up. My edgy anticipation finally wore off, and I assumed I'd have a break of it until tomorrow. I got up from my desk and started putting my things together to leave. So my stomach did a total flip when I suddenly heard, from behind me, a young girl's voice chirp, "Oh good, I'm not too late!"
I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. "Ah Samiksha, how may I help you?"
"I was hoping to get my paper." She had walked up to my desk now.
"Of course," I rummaged through a binder (as if I didn't have hers placed for convenient access already). "Although I noticed you didn't follow my instruction."
Her eager features faded, clouded by vague unease. "What do you mean?"
You're in charge here; make sure it stays that way. "Well, we discussed that your initial prompt didn't have much in the way of direction."
"What are you talking about!" she blurted, almost offended. "I wrote a whole second part. It continues everything!"
"Actually, if you take the time to read my comments, it almost comes off as a completely separate story, just tacked onto the first." This wasn't completely true, and I felt guilty about compromising my teaching integrity, but there were greater stakes at play here.
She snatched the paper from my hand. "That's like, totally unfair. It completely fits together!" The pages flipped angrily through her fingers as her eyes buzzed over each line I marked in. Before I could respond, her eyes slowly rose up and leveled at my gaze. "And you know it."
Oh crap. I was almost chilled by her sudden determination and confidence. Or maybe it was just me being a nervous wreck on the inside. I stared at her blankly for a moment, no words coming to mind.
"Is this about something else?" she asked flatly.
Okay, no more games. "Look Samiksha, this paper is, um, inappropriate…"
"Why?"
I almost scoffed. "Because…" What could I even say?
"Because I think the writing is really good," she interrupted.
"Like I said, it's not the writing so much as the subject matter."
"Well, it totally fits the prompt! Do I need to show it to another English teacher to prove it?"
"That's uh, not necessary…"
She cocked her neck a little bit, trying to hide a smug little smile. "So what's the problem?"
"Look Samiksha, I'm not sure what- what you think is going on here. I have been willing to overlook your, um, indiscretion from the other night…"
Her mouth snapped shut and her cheeks turned bright red.
"…but whatever it is, it is going to stop. It has stopped." There. Firm, in charge.
She stared at me, angry at not finding any words. Her gaze dropped down to her paper and she finally spoke, "I don't see what that has to do with this." And she shook the paper for emphasis.
Was she joking? "This isn't a game, Samiksha."
"What? You think this would actually happen? A high school teacher getting excited over his little student? That's pretty unlikely. And isn't that, like, the whole point of the story?" She dripped with sarcasm.
And there it was again. That sudden flare of excitement and certainty in her eyes. That look she got when she knew she wanted something. I needed to take control. "That's right, it wouldn't happen, so…"
"So there's no problem then, right?" she quickly interjected.
At that moment, one of the other teacher's from down the hall poked her head in the door. Samiksha and I both looked over.
"Oh sorry," my colleague apologized, "I didn't think you'd still be with your students…"
"It's okay Mrs. Singh, we were just finishing up." Samiksha turned and gave me a sour smile. "Thanks for like, seeing it my way. I'm really excited to see how the story turns out."
She was already walking away from me and towards the door before I could respond. My muscles tensed. I didn't want this to end with her having the last word, but I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable even broaching the topic with another instructor in the room.
At that moment I felt defeated. For better or for worse, I allowed myself to be convinced that there wasn't much I could do. I wasn't sure if she was bluffing about showing the paper to another teacher. Even if she did, it didn't prove anything. But my obsession over the recent weeks was too powerful to think through it clearly. It had to stay a secret, even if that meant allowing her to continue writing. All I had to do was stay away from her. I could do that, right?
(A.N): Let's see if he manages to stay away from her. Went easy on the lemon, didn't want to scare away my favorite reviewer. Do post your reviews (yeah, right…. As if that's happening)
*the dark clouds prevails*