Chapter 2

But basically that was the line crossed. I’d fucked one of my students, only a month into teacher training, and she wasn’t even a Year 13 student but only Year 10.

Christina had been so sure she could have me, in her lunch break, that she’d put the word out for the class to exit quickly, to leave the way clear for her. The other kids would want to know how it had gone, and one way or another she’d tell them, whether with a smile or in all the gory detail.

Anyway for the rest of the day, and the next, she just looked at me, along with some of the others, without trying anything. Perhaps her pussy wasn’t as experienced as she liked to pretend, and needed to recover? Or she couldn’t think of anywhere to do it, guessing I wouldn’t go for the idiocy in the classroom again? I assumed she was on the pill, so I didn’t try to ask about that, in case it invited more of the same. Not that I could stop thinking about her.

But I suppose it wasn’t completely surprising when, walking to my car at quarter to four the next day, I came upon another Year 10 girl lying in wait. She was wheeling a bike across the car park, on an intercepting course. When we met she stopped, looked down at her flat rear tyre, then back up at me.

“Angie,” I said. She’s another confident, developed, sexy girl, and friends with Christina. I reflected that since there are over two hundred students in the year, half of them girls, the most confident and sexy of them are bound to be very confident and sexy, if you see what I mean. Also in the way of things they are attractive, otherwise they wouldn’t be so confident.

Angie has long hair, like Christina, but brunette and a bit wavy. Five-six or -seven, and strongly built too, but with even more shape; smaller tits, but also a smaller waist, which was peeking from beneath her short top, under her jacket. Short shorts, thin leggings and trainers. Shoulders, hips and thighs, all lean and perfect. Light-brown eyes, shining with nervous excitement, carefully made up.

“Oh Sir,” she smiled, “my bike’s gone and got a puncture.”

“Oh dear,” I said. I wondered whether to foil her by simply pumping it up again, but as I looked at her temptation won a brief battle with common sense. “Need a lift home with it?”

“Oh thanks! My parents won’t get in for ages, and it’s miles to walk.”

The bike went in the back of my hatchback, and shortly afterwards she was pointing at a small detached house on an estate about a whole mile away. I pulled up at the kerb and lifted the bike out while she opened the garage door.

As soon as I’d wheeled it in she started closing the garage door again. “Thanks ever so much,” she came and stood in front of me in the private, secret gloom.

“That’s fine.” I managed not to do anything but smile down at her, and she was disconcerted.

“Would you like a coffee?” was the best she could do, it turned out.

“Thanks.” If her parents came home early that wouldn’t look too suspicious would it?

We went through a side door into the kitchen and she put the kettle on.

“Back in a sec,” she said, “these leggings are itchy!” and ran fluidly into the hall and upstairs. In a minute she was back, in the short shorts and short top; but with bare feet, bare legs, tantalising taut tummy, and no bra. I couldn’t help swallowing, which she heard and blushed deliciously, but with a naughty smile. Her body is sensational, as she kind of knew, but wasn’t quite, quite sure.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked while she made two coffees.

“A brother, he’s with my parents though, doing a tour of the college, for next year. It goes on till six.” I picked up on the ‘though’, while Angie picked up the coffees and walked on her bare feet and bare legs into the hall. She went past the living room door. “Shall we have it upstairs?”

She was half way up already, so I followed her. She was half-dressed so perhaps upstairs was the best thing in any case.

‘Upstairs’ was her room of course, which at least was at the back away from the street. It was girlie, with posters and fragrance, and a Twister mat laid out on the floor - laid out just now I was betting. The one chair was piled full of clothes so the only place to sit was on the bed.

“This is nice,” I looked round while I sipped my coffee, ignoring the Twister that she was hoping I’d say something about.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she said, in that open way many girls have.

I couldn’t think of anything safe to say, so I just smiled at her.

“Your eyes are so amazing,” she said, finding encouragement. “Such a light blue, but you’re so tanned and your hair is brown - and so thick and curly, or wavy, or a bit of both, and a bit long like this...” She started to reach to touch it, but backed off at the last moment.

“I was in the Cook Islands last month, doing videos, kiteboarding,” I explained. She seemed interested so I told her how some friends and I had managed to get sponsorship from GoPro. She wanted to know where the Cook Islands are, so I showed her on her laptop.

“Wow. So are you in the videos?” she asked. “Where’s your channel?”

I found it and we watched for a few minutes, sitting side by side with our heads close. I could feel she wanted to get my clothes off, but wasn’t sure how to go about it - while for my part I knew l ought to get out, before she came up with something, but I couldn’t drag myself away from her. “Oh my God!” she giggled after I did a flip on the video, “I can’t believe that’s you, doing that, and you’re here.”