I finish grading the last of the test papers in my high school English class. The students left when the bell rang at 2:30 pm. It is just past 3:00 now. I unlock my desk to get my purse from the drawer and head out the door.

I get into my two-year old Hyundai and drive off. I bought my car new a few months after I was hired at Walton Wells High, home of the Fighting Turnips. That was when I was 25. I’m 27 now.

I stop by Food Marketeer, the grocery store near my place, and get a few items to make for dinner. The cashier named Anna is working late today since the store is busy.

I unlock the door to my second-floor unit and enter. I live alone in my one-bedroom apartment. The front room light switch is right by the door. I put my purse and my keys on a small table that is also by the front door. There were too many times I headed out and completely forgot to bring my purse which has my driver’s license and money and everything I need so I bought a little table to help me remember to take my stuff.

I place my grocery bags on the dinette table then pull out the clip holding my hair back. My dark wavy hair falls a third of the way down my back. I head toward my bedroom to change out of my teacher’s blouse and skirt into something comfortable and relaxed.

“Stop. Don’t move,” a male voice says.

I halt in my tracks standing in front of my sofa. I shiver. My mind races.

I hear him step behind me.

“Hello, Rachel” he speaks softly. I tremble.

His hands reach around and touch my stomach. My face feels warm.

“Undo the top two buttons,” he whispers directly into my ear causing more shivers.

Shakily I do so. Normally I could do this without thinking but it takes a few moments to undo the top buttons of my blouse.

He pulls up my blouse and the camisole beneath it but he doesn’t take it off. The bottom of the material rests on my shoulder and my arms are stuck above my head trapped within the cloth. I cannot see.

He grabs my now bare waist with both hands.

“Drop to your knees,” he instructs.

How do I do so in my blinded state without falling? I hesitantly bend my knees.

“Keep going,” he says. His voice is familiar yet I have no idea who he is.

He guides me so that I don’t crash down. My knees are touching the living room carpet. My breath captured within my top makes my face feel extra warm.

I feel surprise when his bigger, stronger hands touch my hands above my head that are sticking out of my blouse. He pulls me forward and down and I am scared of doing a face plant. I land a little rough but nothing painful. He is in control. I am prone on the carpet in front of my sofa. He undoes the clasp of my bra. He rolls me to my back. I can see nothing so his every move is a surprise.

I hear movement but I don’t know what he is doing but in a couple of minutes he is down by my side because he pulls my now loose bra up over my small breasts. Both his man hands easily cover and fondle my breasts. The movement makes my nipples harden so they are now stiff little points underneath his palms.

Next he is removing my shoes followed by my socks. He pulls my legs apart and I take a deep breath. I know what is coming. He pulls my skirt up so it is bunched around my waist.

“Very nice,” he says.

My face feels flushed. Not only did I recently shave my pussy clean but today for the first time ever I went commando underneath my skirt. The fresh air against my pussy all day felt wonderful. This stranger is looking directly at my pussy. I am sure if I wore panties that they would be a momentary impediment to what he wants from me but this is like an invitation for him to do what he wants with me.

I gasp. His finger touches my clit. He rubs and I can’t help but squirm. It does feel good. It’s like I’m a wanton hussy. I gasp more and more. My breathing becomes labored. His finger traces within my pussy lips and I thrust up. What am I doing? What kind of girl am I?