Chapter 2

By the time I had gotten home, I was prepared to tell Julia everything. I would tell her that one of my students had visited my office after hours. That she had come on to me, that I had...

I parked the car. Telling my girlfriend suddenly seemed like a terrible idea. My mind played through how the conversation would go down.

I clenched my jaw. Even in my imagination, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Julia the deeper truth behind why I’d been unable to resist Natalie. Instead, the deep-seated, lustful part of me that had enjoyed my student’s attentions without guilt answered the silent question from my imagined conversation.

And you aren’t satisfying me.

I opened the front door.

“Hey, honey! How was your first day?” Jules was waiting for me in the living room, a bottle of wine on the coffee table with two glasses. She was still in her residency, which meant her hours were wacky, and today she was home before me. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and she looked relaxed in a pair of yoga pants and tee. Her simple grey v-neck stretched across her breasts, and I had to make sure my eyes didn’t linger too long on the teasing distraction of her cleavage.

“Honey?” Julia was looking at me, her smile expectant.

I hid behind the NDA.

Julia was disappointed, but understood.

I’d met with the principal today, and after a conversation and a couple of questions he had told me that, to be on the safe side, talking about my work should be limited to work colleagues and students.

At least, that’s what I told Julia.

“I’m sorry, Jules,” I said, feeling my chest twist itself into knots as I lied to her. “I want to tell you about it, but I did sign the Non-Disclosure Agreement.”

She pursed her lips in a grimace. “Oh well,” she said. “I was just excited to hear about your big first day.” She smiled. “Tell me you enjoyed it, at least?”

Oh yes, the sex fiend in my mind answered.

“It was good,” I nodded. I tried to think of something innocuous to say. “The kids are smart. Some of them are really interested in the subject.” My memory flashed back to Natalie and those bright blue eyes, glazed with lust. I swallowed.

“That’s great!” Julia enthused. She leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. “Well, it’s easy when you have such a great teacher.”

I turned my head to kiss the top of her head, an almost automatic action, and she eased into a relaxed lean against my shoulder.

“What did you do today?” I asked.

“Oh, you know.” My girlfriend wriggled into a more comfortable position. “I had therapy this afternoon.”

Right. Of course. That was today. I nodded. “And how did that go? Well, I hope? Any progress?” I knew that the contents of Julia’s therapy sessions were private, and I tried not to pry, but every week I hoped that there would have been some breakthrough.

“Elena said that we’re doing well,” Julia said. I could hear the smile in her voice as she nuzzled my shoulder. “Which makes me happy to hear.”

“Well, I’m glad Dr. Carey thinks so.” I tried to sound casual, but something in my tone must have been off.

Julia sat up. Her face was twisted into a hurt expression. “If this is about yesterday—”

“Babe...” I tried to pacify her, shaking my head.

“I’m sorry, okay!” She pushed back, out of my reach, and then stood. Her hands were clenched into fists and she was obviously upset. I didn’t doubt that our sexual misadventure from yesterday was still on her mind. She’d probably talked about it with Dr. Carey. “I’m sorry I’m messed up, okay? I’m sorry I can’t give you what you need!” The lovely brunette looked like she was about to cry.

I gave her what I hoped was a comforting look as I stood. I held out one hand. “Jules...” I said. “Please. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m glad that you and Dr. Carey are making progress. I wasn’t trying to imply anything.”

Julia settled down and came back to the sofa. A few minutes later, she was once again leaning against my shoulder. But there was an uneasy wall between us for the next few hours, and our only intimate moment that night was a few, extra sweet, apology kisses before bed.

“I love you, Mitch,” Julia murmured sleepily. She shifted, then rolled away to her side of the bed.

“I love you too, Jules,” I whispered back, softly. Then, I settled down on my back and forced myself to ignore the fantasies of my student that tried to play their way across the movie screen of my mind.

I dreaded the next day.

Then, when I woke up, I dreaded my commute to the Academy.

The fear grew as I walked my route, becoming more familiar, through the school and up the stairs to my office. But it had settled somewhat by the time my first class rolled around twenty minutes later. For a little over an hour, at least, I could settle into a safe world of math. I could forget that I would be seeing Natalie in my next class section, and—

“Good morning, Professor.”

I swallowed. Then I looked up from my lesson plan.

Natalie was standing in the doorway, leaning one shoulder against the frame. She wore a play on yesterday’s outfit, with a dark green theme in the jacket and plaid, instead of navy blue. Her voice was as surprisingly deep and rich as before.

I found myself wondering whether she sang, or did cheer, or something where her voice was an asset. Then I blinked several times and coughed softly as my throat constricted. “Yes, of course ... ahem, good morning, Natalie.”

She didn’t move when I looked away.

I looked back up.

She was watching me thoughtfully. Her bright blue eyes were hard to read.

“I didn’t expect to see you this early,” I said. I felt like I was compelled to make conversation, like it would be weird to leave my student standing there watching me with no comment. “I thought you were in a later class.”

She nodded. Hair fell in front of her face, a blonde and brown bang, and she tucked it behind her ear. “I was,” she agreed. “But I switched sections last night. I figured it might be easier...”

I frowned, confused. “Easier how?” I asked. My voice was remarkably calm now.

The teen shrugged. “If you ever want me to stay the night at your place. You could drive me back in the morning and it would match my class schedule.”

I blinked.

Her tone was so matter of fact.

I shook my head. “Natalie...” My tone was still absurdly calm. But I felt like I was suddenly much more certain of the situation. “I’m very flattered that you’re so interested in me. Truly. But there really isn’t anything here but maybe a repressed desire for attention that—”

I was startled when Natalie laughed softly, cutely, her teeth flashing between those full lips. I broke off speaking.

“Professor, sir...” Her eyes sparkled with humor. “Please don’t worry that I’m infatuated with you or something. I know it’s not like I’m your girlfriend.”

I swallowed. “Ahem ... Well, I, uh ... Okay.” I didn’t know what I could say. I didn’t have the guts to ask the silent question. So ... What are you, exactly?

My student walked across the room and slid once more into the desk closest to the front. She started to unpack her books, like everything was utterly normal.

I bit my lip, glanced at the door, and knew that the rest of my class would be here soon.

“Natalie...”

The 19-year-old looked up.

Only five years younger than me. Crazy. Maybe five years was a long time, but it seemed so short. Five is such a small number, when it comes to mathematics.

I worked my jaw for a minute, started to say something and was interrupted by footsteps in the hallway.

“Professor Sands!” It was a jovial Principal Clayton, with his tanned, handsome face and firm handshake. “Good morning. I see that one of your students is already here, but I just wanted to make sure you were all ready for your first set of morning classes with us.”

I nodded. “Yep,” I said. I felt harried, like I was being attacked on multiple fronts. “Very ready. Super ready.”

“Good! Good!” The man’s hand was just as firm and masculine when he clasped my shoulder and gave me a solemn look. “Remember...” he said, then raised his eyebrows at me, expectantly.

“Always in the classroom,” I said, after a split second of panicked hesitation.

The principal nodded. “Exactly. Because?” Again, with the eyebrows.

“Because...” I paused. I knew he’d given me a reason.

“Because you never know when a student might need help.” The man jerked his chin in another nod of affirmation as he reminded me.

I found I was nodding with him. “Yes, sir,” I said.

“Well done,” he told me, and then abruptly stepped back and away. His hand fell away from my shoulder and his head swept around. He met Natalie’s eyes and inclined his head in a slightly graver and more professional way. “Natalie,” he said.

“Principal Clayton.” Her tone was easy but formal, with none of the warmth of emotion she used with me.

I wondered why that fact kindled a little warmth in my belly.

“Have a good class, you two.” His shoes sounded on the tile in the hallway.

“You were going to say something?”

I turned back at Natalie’s prompting. She was leaning forward on her desk, eyes bright in anticipation of whatever I had been about to tell her. The warmth and scarcely suppressed interest were back in her tone. Even with only one button undone, her blouse gave me too much of a hint at her stunning cleavage. I remembered, abruptly, how it felt to have those gorgeous breasts wrapped around—

“I don’t remember.” I shook my head, jerking my eyes away.

The other students joined us only a minute later.

Class progressed as it had yesterday. Natalie’s questions were once again insightful. This was a different class, almost an entirely different subject, and I realized I should be surprised to have the young woman in both sections. Most students, in my experience, avoided taking more mathematics than what was absolutely necessary. I wondered if it was her major. I realized I didn’t know if the Brighton Barnsworth Academy did majors, or what those majors might be.

As I wrote and explained a particularly tricky bit of mental gymnastics, expecting Natalie’s question at any moment, I heard the gentle sound of a knuckle rapping on a desk. I paused, turning half around.

“Yes?” I had expected it to be Natalie, but my eyes flicked to her desk and she was looking off to the other side of the classroom.

I followed her eyes and then, very slowly, blinked. I forced myself not to give the woman an instinctive once over.

The girl who had knocked on her desk probably would have stolen all of my attention if not for Natalie. She seemed a bit older, with blonde hair pulled back in a bun and the kind of outfit that is so bold it must be expensive. I couldn’t help but notice that the crimson slacks, with the wide hems, and her dark red, sleeveless blouse clung to a body that should have been on a Victoria’s Secret billboard. Perky breasts and long legs, with the kind of graceful lines that imply youthful elegance.

Girlfriend, My morals wearily reminded me. You have one of those.

The young woman’s hand came up from the desk and unfolded from a loose fist. A single golden pinky ring flashed.

I nodded. “Yes, Miss... ?” I had discovered that not knowing my students’ names had been frustrating when I had to call on them, so I’d settled on the compromise of knowing them by their last names. I hoped Principal Clayton didn’t think I was being too forward.

“St. John.”

“Yes, Miss St. John?” I raised my eyebrows at her. “Did you have a question?”

She had a way of smiling that seemed to imply how kind it was of her to speak to you. I didn’t like it, but at the same time felt the helpless to resist the pull of her dark green eyes. “Yes, I did.” She paused, and glanced sideways at Natalie.

The other girl was watching peacefully. One hand had her pen poised to continue taking notes.

“I was wondering if you would stop playing favorites and spread out your focus among the rest of the class.” The girl in red was giving me a look. It implied boredom, mixed with a shred of irritation.

Wait ... What? I was surprised at her boldness. And, I have to admit, a little intimidated.

I swallowed. “Well, Miss St. John.” As a new teacher, I had to curb this kind of dissent immediately. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, but—”

“It’s a simple issue, Professor Sands.” I noticed I didn’t enjoy it nearly as much when this young lady called me ‘Professor.’ “I’m just sure we would all be grateful if you didn’t spend the sum total of your attention on one class member.”

I pressed my mouth together in a firm line. Had I been doing that? I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have accepted this kind of disrespectful talk, but what was I going to do? Punish the student for speaking up? I jerked my chin in a nod. “I’ll do my best, Miss St. John.”

“Mmhmm.” The girl nodded her head and then raised her eyebrows at me. She fluttered her fingers at me in a shooing gesture. “Continue...”

The rest of the class, I seemed to be splitting my focus between Natalie and the elegant blonde. The rest of the students faded into the background, and I don’t think they particularly minded. No one else, it seemed, was very interested in mathematics.

There was an Indian girl and her Latina friend, laughing over something on their phones. There was the redhead, maybe a couple years older. She watched the interplay between Natalie and the blonde with slight interest, like an older sister, but barely glanced at the whiteboard. A few others did work on their laptops, and I scarcely noticed them.

Apparently, only three of us in the room actually cared about the subject.

Which was surprisingly high for a math classroom, statistically speaking.

I was crossing the hallway to my classroom, between my first class and my second, when I heard shoes behind me.

Miss St. John had been waiting, leaning back with one foot up against the wall in its platform heel. “Into your office,” she ordered, pointing.

I was stunned, confused, and, inexplicably, nervous. I felt like I was being scolded for something I didn’t know I’d done. “Miss St. John?” I asked. “Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

But she simply scowled, shook her head and marched past me. She turned the unlocked knob to my office, opened the door, and gestured for me to enter.

I did. Slowly. I set my bag down gently on the chair and turned to face her. Who did this student think she was?

The young woman pushed the door closed behind her. Now that she was standing, I could see that she really did have the long, narrow lines of a model. I tried not to notice it as she crossed her arms under her breasts.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I’m not sure why you’re so upset, Miss St. John,” I said. “I promise that I’ve done nothing to offend you. And,” I felt some measure of pride stiffen my backbone. “I don’t want to have to tell the principal about the disrespectful tone you took with me in class.”

The girl’s face twitched with a momentary frown. Her eyes were sharp and hard. She seemed to be taking things way out of proportion, but I couldn’t understand why. Her voice was hard and surprisingly loud when she spoke. “Do you know who pays your salary?” She stepped closer and poked a finger at my chest. “The students. Which means you work for all of us.” She jabbed her finger again. “You work for me.“

I shook my head. “Wait wait wait...”

But she steamrolled over me. “So when you start class by devoting all your energy to little Miss Math in her schoolgirl getup, you’re not doing your job. Because you’re not working for all of us.”

I knew that when the young woman said ‘all of us’, what she really meant was ‘me.’

“But...” She continued before I could stutter a response. “If you change your attitude, then we should be in the clear.” Her voice was lower and smoother, cajoling. “After all, I don’t want to have to tell the principal about this... “

I looked up and she was suddenly very close. I could smell her perfume. It was good. I felt my face and ears flush. “Tell him about what... ?” I asked. My throat had started to close up, so the words were hoarse.

Her emerald eyes were big and close.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain as something clamped down between my legs. I simultaneously realized that it was the young woman’s hand and also realized that her fingers were wrapped around a surprisingly sizable bulge in my crotch.

Shit. How had this happened to me again?

I swallowed, blinking into those flashing green eyes.

“Tell him about how you started looking at me, when I came into your office...” she hissed. “About how you got all hot and bothered and hard.” She squeezed the bulge and I winced. “I don’t think the principal would like that, do you?”

I shook my head, clenching my jaw together. “No...” I grunted. Especially not after Denton. But the girl didn’t know about that, couldn’t have known.

“Good. So do we understand each other?”

I swallowed again and nodded. “Yeah...” I hissed. I swear her fingers were actually iron clamps.

When she released me I sagged back against a chair. She stepped back, flexing her fingers and watching me carefully. “I expect to see you tomorrow, with a new attitude.” Her eyes narrowed. “And a new favorite student.”

I breathed deeply and just stared at her.

She snorted, then, and turned on one heel. “Ta ta,” she called sardonically. A tiny, chic backpack bounced between her shoulder blades.

Then the door to my office swung shut and she was gone.

I shook my head and sat down on the edge of my desk. I bent forward, elbows on my legs, and rubbed my hands vigorously over my face.

What kind of school was this? Where one student seduced her professor and another blackmailed him, all in twenty-four hours? And why were these two young women taking math so seriously?

I wondered at the problem, and then had to ask an even more important one.

Did I even want to know?

I didn’t want to see Natalie again today, but when I went through my messenger bag after my last class of the day I realized I still had her notebook. It was tucked next to the scarf I’d worn in the chilly morning and the math textbook I still hadn’t opened. I was surprised, in fact, that she hadn’t mentioned her missing notebook to me when she came to class.

“Alright,” I muttered to myself. “Alright...”

I didn’t want to see her again, but some part of me got stern. Get it together, I thought. This girl was taking two of my classes, which meant I would be seeing her every day. I needed to move on, make sure that what happened yesterday never happened again.

I nodded to myself, proud that I was being so firm.

“So, Natalie...” I murmured. I walked out of my office and looked around. “Where are you?”

I realized, then, that I had no idea where to look for a student. I went back into my office and grabbed my stuff. I would make this notebook drop-off my last to-do of the school day.

And then back home to Natalie, I told myself. I flinched guiltily. Julia... I corrected. Home to Julia.

I could have asked Principal Clayton where to find a student after hours, but I could already guess that he would be unhappy at the thought of me leaving my little teaching bubble. So instead of seeking out the principal, I cast my mind back to see if I could remember anything useful from my tour.

As far as I knew, the Brighton Barnsworth Academy owned each of the towers that made up its various academic departments. But the academic space only took up the first few floors of my building, and it was probably the same with the others. If I were housing students, I would just put them in the upper reaches of one of the academic buildings.

But which one?

The quest to search the Academy’s towers, while tempting, was put aside when I got lucky. Glancing out a window, I saw Natalie sitting alone in the quad.

She was at one of the tables with its useless umbrella. A small amount of late afternoon light filtered down from high above. It bounced between the sheer, glass and steel walls of the buildings. My student was bent over her laptop, hand scribbling studiously at the notebook next to it. It looked like she was watching some sort of video, because her earphones were in and her eyes were on the screen.

I came to a stop across from her.

She didn’t look up, didn’t even seem to register my presence.

“Natalie.”

Maybe my voice was louder or harsher than I intended, because she jolted very suddenly and drew in a deep, harsh breath. Her eyes flickered to mine and the bright blue orbs were surprisingly unfocused.

Then she blinked, and she shook her head, the look of shock turning into something much calmer. “I’m so sorry, Professor Sands,” she said. She pressed her hand to her chest as though to slow her racing heart. She was just wearing her white blouse, with her green jacket draped across the table beside her. “I was so focused that you startled me.”

I nodded. I really wasn’t sure what to say.

The skin of her throat was tan, like she spent time in the sun.

I had no desire to banter with this girl, with my 19-year-old student, but at the same time something had happened. And I would have to face it, sooner or—

“Here’s your notebook.”

I said it abruptly, and then the notebook was dropping on the table in front of her and I was turning, ignoring her startled ‘Thank you’ and striding away. I didn’t notice until afterwards that my face was flushed, but I frowned when I noticed.

I couldn’t be so weak-willed.