Mr. Sanders was every girl’s wet dream. He was tall, dark, and ruggedly handsome. Girls swoon, and guys were on defense, as they perceive Mr. Sanders to be a threat. Idiots I thought. Did they think they could compete with a man? Mr. Sanders has a tough exterior of someone not to be messed with. It fit, as he was the replacement for our English teacher.
“Class, I’m here to introduce Mr. Sanders who will be taking over Mrs. Lincoln position as she is on maternity leave.” Ms. Jackson our school principal said. Mr. Sanders piercing green eyes observe his surroundings and his students in deep thought. As his eyes fall upon me, I blush and cast my eyes downward to avoid his scrutiny. My heart races, I want him to keep looking at me despite how inappropriate that might be. Why does Mr. Sanders have to be so attractive? I never felt this dumb about liking someone before. And it had to be a teacher who is way too old for me. Jeez, life is so unfair.
Ms. Jackson continues her speech as she reminds us to behave as it reflects back on her. I pay little mind as I worry about controlling myself. I fear I would do something stupid. Will I look crazy in trying to hump Mr. Sanders leg like a dog in heat? The answer is obvious. Of course, I would look Crazy! Hmm, it’s debatable. The bell rings. It was a short reprieve from my disturbing thoughts.
As I walk through the door, I felt a pair of green eyes piercing my back with extreme heat. I wonder who will make the first move.It was a dalliance between Mr. Sanders and me. It began when our eyes above many heads found each other and stayed linked, as the world surrounding us became a blur. It was dangerous yet exhilarating to hide our relationship.
Unlike me, Mr. Sanders becomes frustrated, as he couldn’t touch me freely as he pleased. And what wonderful hands he has as he puts them to good use on me. I remember the innocent feel of his hand caressing my long dark tresses as he sneakily teaches the class. The way his finger inch to touch mines whenever he stands behind me to look over my work. Another excuse the one that happens to be my favorite is when Mr. Sanders tells me to stay after class. It’s only then can he touch me fully without students speculating or faculty butting into people’s business.
Mr. Sanders was daring, to say the least. He thrilled on the fact our relationship is taboo. I mean what 33-year-old man wouldn’t enjoy the body of a 17-year-old girl like me. A fruit that is ripe and ready to be plucked.
To be continued.............
