Chapter 1

“You’re insane.” The blonde woman seated beside me scoffed. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about!”

But as I sat on the edge of Mrs. Goodman’s desk, the grin remained fixed on my face. Insane? No. Fixated, perhaps. With one leg dangling alongside her chair, I looked down at her.

Although the official school bio said my US government teacher was thirty-four, she appeared much younger. More like mid-twenties. Plus, the sleek toning of her limbs screamed workout beast. With thick honey-blonde hair done up and perfect curls lining reddening cheeks, her gaze remained on the laptop before her.

More specifically, she was inspecting the pair of side-by-side frames frozen on its screen. It’s a very rare thing in life to uncover a key. But two? That was truly a sign. Which meant as soon as I’d discovered them on a sketchy internet site, I’d snatched them before racing to confirm my hopes.

“Did you hear me, Mr. Porter?” she said, while pulling her brilliant emerald eyes from the images to look up at me.

In an off-white scoop-neck blouse beneath a deep green blazer and matching mid-length skirt, she was far different from the younger woman in the frozen video frames. One depicted her dancing topless in a poolside bikini contest. While in the other, she was guaranteeing her victory. Although grainy and blurred, it was definitely her, squatting before the judge, surrounded by a raucous, drunken crowd.

Oh, it wasn’t her thigh-wide pose, offering a delectable view of the tiny crimson swimsuit bottoms. Nope. But how, with a half-empty beer mug sloshing in one hand and his cock in the other, her head was caught in mid-bob.

“Well, Mrs. Goodman.” After making a point of glancing into the top of her blouse, I returned to her face. “Hmm, if that’s not you”—I shrugged—”you’ve nothing to worry about.”

Before she could reply, I tapped the play button. When the liquidy sounds of rapid glug-glugging and hungry wet slurps, along with drunken cheers, erupted from the speaker, her eyes flashed back to the screen. Although trembling, she made no move to stop it. So, I let it run, waiting.

Patience is a virtue, right?

Besides, there was little risk of being heard. Not only had my planning been impeccable, but Coach Myerson also announced a team strategy meeting for the afternoon of a teacher’s workday. Boom, opportunity. Which I considered another sign. Add in my snapping off the lights upon entering the classroom, and anyone would assume it was empty.

How her eyes had widened when I’d entered. With the filtered sunlight slanting across her, the ensemble she’d chosen complimented those wide eyes. One thing about her, she was always so well put together.

So there we were, after all my time and effort. Despite confirming and reconfirming it was her, I’d been hesitant. From the start, my scheme had been an enormous gamble. But if it worked?

“How much do you want?” she whispered with her eyes locked onto the screen.

Bingo.

Just as I pressed the “Pause” button, my rod surged again. Any remaining doubt vaporized. I had been correct; it was her.

Over my eighteen years, a lot of folks had made the usually painful mistake of attributing my bulk with slow wits, to their detriment. Momma hadn’t raised a fool. Not by any measure. That single positive trait, she at least admitted.

In addition to my primary focus of escaping town, Mrs. Goodman had become a bit of an obsession. Besides, one didn’t turn away from such signs. Keys? Gifts? Whatever they were. Yes, it’d required hard work. But, hmm, the rewards would be worth it. As the words I’d rehearsed formed in my mind, my cock further stiffened.

“No money,” I said with a smirk while noting the yellowed threads glinting in her hair.

“What?” With sculpted golden eyebrows knitting, she gazed up at me. “Then, um, what do you want?”

“You.” At my fingertip landing on the shallow scoop of her blouse, she jolted.

“W-What do...?” Her voice, already high, raised an octave when I dragged my finger along the neckline. “Um, what do you mean, Mr. Porter?”

“It’s simple, Mrs. Goodman.” After halting my digit, I pressed on her warm breastbone, nudging aside a thin golden cross. “Call me nostalgic. I want you to replicate those videos for me.”

At first, there was utter silence. Then she gasped while dropping to my coal-black digit on her pale chest. When she returned to me, a much deeper crimson flooded her cheeks.

“No way!” She shook her head, sending shiny tresses whirling in the dim sunlight. “Nuh-uh. That. Is. Never. Going to happen. Not in a million years, Mr. Porter.” She lifted a shaky hand to point at the screen. “That was a long time ago.”

“Okay.” With a shrug, I surged from the desk. A sharp gasp left her as she tracked my towering mass. As a varsity linebacker, I had presence. After a curt nod, I scooped the laptop from her desk. “I’ve attached the videos to a rather well-written email. It details the profound shock and disgust of an anonymous, concerned citizen. First thing Monday morning, it’s scheduled for release to the local school board.”

On the way to the exit, I halted to glance back at her. In the dimness, she was trembling. A glittering trail slithered down one cheek to gather at the corner of her twitching pursed lips.

“Oh, and a copy for the Hillsville Observer.” I flashed her a broad smile. “After all, an informed press is crucial for a well-functioning democracy, right, Mrs. Goodman?”

When she didn’t react, I turned and reached for the locked door. The direct approach had been a gamble. As had such a compressed timeline. With a heavy breath, I flicked open the lock.