Chapter 1

“Teachers have status,” my new Head was laying down the law, “and that can make adolescent girls susceptible of course, so it can be a temptation to take advantage of them. That’s why it’s illegal,” she looked me up and down with a gimlet glare, “for teachers to touch them, even the over-sixteens.”

“Rightly so,” I nodded hastily. This was my first real hands-on in teacher training and I was anxious to make a good impression. And honestly that was my mindset. I do like girls, which is why I’m happy to be around them; be around them but not do anything inappropriate with them. After all at school age they can be impulsive and impressionable, and get themselves into situations they later regret.

“It’s been against my better judgment,” she continued, “in some ways, to accept such a young man, er, in your condition, but I am assured by your college that you are a disciplined person, and I daresay this is evidenced by your physique.”

“I do maintain a training discipline,” I smiled, hoping to get off on the right foot with her.

“Very good Carl. So let’s make sure that gets applied around the students shall we, and hopefully in the classroom too.”

“Yes Ms Waters.”

“You can call me Janice,” she smiled ferociously, “in private. Just be sure to keep things on a formal footing with my girls.”

“Yes Janice.”

But straight away there was Christina Nering. She was always asking questions, coming to me after class, smiling at me; sitting in the front row with her knees apart, in a short skirt. The skirts seemed to get shorter and shorter, and she took to wearing little tank tops under her jacket, leaving enticing displays of tummy, and no bra straps where they should have been.

I’d been taught how a lot of teenage girls have body image issues, but Christina clearly wasn’t one of them. She was setting out to make me react to her, and to be fair I suppose I couldn’t quite hide that I did react. Year 10 meant she could be fifteen already, this being October, and looking at her she quite likely was: big, confident and very sexy.

When I say she’s ‘big’, I don’t mean that as a euphemism for fat. She’s in perfect shape in fact. I mean big as in about five-ten, with a strong build: a fairly broad skeleton with defined muscle, and just a hint of feminine softness on top. Her tits are growing into a D, and she has beautifully shaped legs she likes to show off. A waist. Fine skin. Developed. Green eyes in a strong, alluring face and long blonde hair. And attitude.

So it wasn’t out of character when, one Tuesday about a month into my first term, at the end of the morning, she sauntered up to my desk as though I had ‘help yourself’ written on my forehead. Without asking she came round and stood cockily next to my chair.

“So, Sir, is, like, ten to-the-minus-one the same as the square root of ten?”

I sighed. She knew perfectly well. The exponent thing is quite straightforward and I’d just taught it.

“Ten to the minus one is point one,” I said, trying to avoid looking at her face, or her legs, so close. “The square root is the number that makes ten when multiplied by itself and that’s not point one is it?” She was wearing scent, that I couldn’t avoid.

“Sorry,” she faked a retreat in response to my tone, “are you busy? Do you have to be somewhere? It’s just that I, you know, nearly understand it, but not quite, kind of thing, and I really need it for my project. I have to do all these calculations and I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be negative...” she prattled on for a minute while the classroom emptied.

“A negative exponent is the same as the reciprocal of the positive exponent,” I explained pointlessly when she’d finally petered out, while I registered that the other kids had left for the lunch break even more quickly than usual.

“Wow you’re so clever,” she smiled, swaying her hip towards me, “I hope you’re going to stay and be my teacher when you qualify.”

“We’ll see.” I had to smile back, and look at her for a second. She ought to have said ‘our teacher’ didn’t she? As the twinkle in her green eyes told me she knew perfectly well.

I’d done enough of the Classroom Management segment to know she was testing me, of course. I’d been warned that being twenty-two, not all that far from the older kids’ ages, would put me in the firing line for some challenges, and this was one.

The scent was too strong to have been on all day wasn’t it? It was freshly sprayed. She was standing too close, with too much bare leg, under her skirt that was much too short - it had been short to start with and she must have given the waistband a quick hoist as she stood up. No tights. We were too alone - the last student out had pulled the door closed. She’d chosen to perform this little tease in a class in the old building which has solid doors with no glass in them...

She played with her hair while she stood and smiled at me. Her hair is long. It’s like a label saying ‘girl’: honey blonde, straight, thick, and kind of gratuitously sexy. Her makeup goes with it perfectly, and with her eyes, nose, lips and cheekbones.

“Do you do something to have these shoulders?” she unnerved me with the change of subject, and with touching one. I wondered if she was challenging me to shy away, or to touch her back by pushing her arm off, so I didn’t. It felt amazing.

“Kiteboarding,” I said, “and some wakeboarding.”

“Oooh that’s why they’re so awesome,” she ran her hand over my shoulder, brazenly fondling. I ought to have stopped her, as we both knew, so when I didn’t she inched nearer. “I always wanted to do kiteboarding.”

Chapter 2 »