"You got a B in Chemistry!"

"Sure did."

"How is that possible! Last quarter you had the same grade I did—an F. You failed it! How can you go up from an a F to a B in one quarter?"

Ginger Mully was questioning her best friend Melissa Runnels on the increase in her grade. They were in the lunchroom during lunch break. They had just that day received their report cards for the quarter. Both were seventeen years old, high school seniors, and due to graduate in the spring—if they kept their grades up and passed everything—which was in doubt for Ginger.

Melissa gave out a smug smile. "Maybe I studied and really applied myself—to Chemistry."

"You haven't studied any more than I have," Ginger snorted. "And as for applying yourself, you're the laziest person I've ever known. You're lazier than I am—and that's pretty lazy."

Melissa shrugged nonchalantly. "All I know is, I got a B in Chemistry. That means that I have an average of a B in all grades—and that means I'll be able to be accepted to college—if I choose to attend."

Ginger blinked at Melissa, and then gave out a sigh and wagged her head. "I just don't understand it. What I do understand is that I got an F in Chemistry—which means that I am failing it—which means that I won't be able to graduate this spring. I'll have to go to summer school and make up the Chemistry grade—if that's possible, which I have my doubts it is."

"That won't be necessary," Melissa said.

"What do you mean, it won't be necessary? It's a fact. I'm failing Chemistry—I got an F."

"Yeah, but that can be changed—just like my F was changed to a B."

Ginger stared at Melissa in mystification. "What are you talking about, anyway? I don't get you. What do you mean, my grade can be changed from an F to a B? What do you do—wave a magic wand or something and have your grade changed?"

Melissa snickered. "No, there's no magic involved in it at all."

"Well, what is involved in it then? Tell me. How did you go from an F to a B in one quarter? I mean, we have the same teacher; we're taking the same course—just at different times—but the same course. We're both about the same intelligence level, we both are lazy as hell and don't really study. So how did it happen?"

Melissa gave a knowing smile to Ginger and said, "Yes, we have the same teacher—different period but the same course, yes." She looked into Ginger's eyes and said in a significant tone: "You know about Ms. Paley, don't you?"

Ginger looked quizzically at Melissa. "Sure, I know about her. What's that got to do with anything, other than that she's our Chemistry teacher."

"You say you know about her? What do you know?" Melissa said.

Ginger gave out an exasperated sigh. "What I mean is, I know she's our Chemistry teacher."

"You don't know about her, though; I mean, you know, what's said about her."

"Oh, I know that," Ginger said. "I've heard all about that. I've heard all the rumors and all that stuff."

"You've heard that she's les, that she's into women—and girls?"

"Oh yeah, I've heard all that stuff. So what?"

"So what, is this," Melissa said. "It's true. She's what would be called a full-blown dyke."

"A full-blown dyke. What the hell does that mean?"

Melissa crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair and gave out another smug smile.

"You don't know what a dyke is?" she asked sarcastically.

"Sure I know what it is," Ginger replied. "But so what? What's this got to do with anything?"

"It could have a lot to do with it," Melissa said. "For one thing, it could have a lot to do with having your grade raised to a B in Chemistry."

Ginger gazed at Melissa for a moment, and then a light switched on in her head, and she began to understand where Melissa was coming from and of what she was referring. She looked into her friend's eyes, and Melissa gave a knowing look back at her.

"How do you know? How do you know that Ms. Paley is les?"

"I know she is," Melissa replied. "I know from personal experience."

Ginger's mouth opened and she stared at her friend. "You know from experience?"

"Yes," Melissa simply said.

"Tell me," Ginger said.

"I'm not going to go into details about it," Melissa replied. "Let's just say that Ms. Paley tutored me. She gave me some private tutoring, I guess you could say. And the result was I went from an F to a B. Are you getting the message? Need I say more?"

"Private tutoring? Of what did that consist?"

"Look, all I'm going to say is this: If you were nice to Ms. Paley, she would be nice to you, and she would up your grade. She did it for me."

"What do you mean, be nice to her?"

"Let her do what she wants with you," Melissa replied.

"And what would that be?"

"Let her get it on with you. That's what I did."

Ginger almost gaped at her friend. "You got it on with her?"

"Yeah," Melissa said. "It's no big deal. Look, here's what you need to do: go to her office—the best time to do that is at the lunch hour. I don't think she ever eats—lunch, that is. She's always in her office during the whole lunch hour. Tell her that you want to get some extra credit, that you want to be tutored by her—tell her that you'll do anything to up your grade. Tell her that I sent you."

Ginger stared at her best friend, and Melissa smiled back at her...

The next day Ginger went to Ms. Paley's office after the third period when the lunch hour had begun. She tapped on the door and an authoritarian-sounding voice rang out: "Enter."

Ginger entered Ms. Paley's office. She was intimidated to say the least. Ms. Paley was an imposing figure. She was seated in a big leather chair behind a big desk. She was a big woman in size. She was a good five feet ten and full-bodied; not fat, but fully packed so to say. She was buxom. She was in her early thirties. Her black hair was cut short to her ears, and her big dark eyes stared unblinkingly. She had thick lips, over which she had a habit of running her tongue. She stared at Ginger for a good five seconds without saying anything.

"Yes, what is it?" she finally broke the silence.

Ginger gulped, and then she managed to say: "Could I speak with you, Ms. Paley?"

"About what?"

Ginger hesitated.

"Well, speak up," Ms. Paley said.

"It's about—uh—my grade," Ginger said.

"What about your grade?"

"Well, I—uh—I'd like to see about—uh—trying to get it raised. I mean, I got an F, and I guess I'm on the verge of failing the whole year, and if I fail, it means I won't graduate this spring, and I'd have to go to summer school, and I may not even pass that, and it would mess me up going to college ... So..."

"Come over here and sit down," Ms. Paley suddenly said, pointing to a chair next to her desk. Ginger quickly complied.

"Now, it is true that you got an F—which you deserved. And it's true that you're on the verge of failing for the year. You say that you'd like to get your grade raised."

"Yes, ma'am. I would. I would like to get some extra credit if that's possible. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll do anything to up my grade. I'd like to be tutored by you, if that's possible. Like you tutored Melissa Runnels."

Ms. Paley crossed her full legs and her skirt rode up. Ginger found herself looking at her teacher's legs and her full thrusted-out chest.

"How did you know I tutored Melissa?"

"She told me you did. She told me that you privately tutored her and her grade went from an F to a B. She told me to tell you that she sent me to you."

"I see," Ms. Paley said. She stood and moved close beside the chair where Ginger sat. She let her hand sweep lightly across Ginger's shoulder as she walked toward the door. She turned with her hands behind her back. She gazed at Ginger, and she liked what she saw. Ginger was seventeen with shoulder-length wavy auburn hair, green eyes, full pink lips and a peachy complexion. She was dressed in a tight silk blouse which was poked out by her breast mounds, and a short tight skirt which showed a good portion of her sleek legs. She was simply stunning and comely. With one hand behind her back Ms. Paley clicked the lock down on the door. She then walked toward Ginger and stood beside her.

"I'm sure that Melissa told you of what the tutoring would consist."

"She told me that if—uh--I were nice to you that you would be—uh--nice to me, and—uh--up my grade."

Ms. Paley laid a hand on Ginger's shoulder and stroked it. "What else did she tell you."

"To let you do what you want with me. To let you get it on with me."