Chapter 19: Workplace tension

I loved Buffy every bit as much as she did. Especially the moment she had to kill Angel. That episode made me cry like a child. I finally managed to reach her over Buffy. It had been an excruciating journey.

At last she eased up on me a little, although from time to time the angry petulant girl would still show up. We would be happily chatting and I would try to share something with her. In my mind finding commonalities might encourage her to be more friendly.

Unfortunately it often didn’t work. Sometimes she would just groan and get up, stalking off to make herself a cup of tea. That would signal the conversation was over.

In retrospect I probably spent too much time worrying about her. My first strong indication was when I fantasised about her while Chantelle was sucking at my clit. She was between my thighs working her magic when I momentarily visualised Vanessa’s naked body. She was on top of me kissing me intently. I came within seconds of the thought.

The episode made me uncomfortable and awkward around Vanessa for weeks. Ironically that seemed to work for her. My being standoffish drew her to me. She began to engage more and even asked me what was wrong at one point.

Unfortunately it wasn’t to last. I eventually became used to thinking of her as a sexual creature, and settled back into putting in too much effort. It was probably that coupled with my job performance that finally brought things to a head.

I was free to teach my new classes as I saw fit. All that mattered was results. By that metric I was performing quite well. I had a basic philosophy and it served me quite well. I knew what engaged me about this very subject and why I had liked it when I was in my students shoes. For that simple reason I felt I had a good understanding of what it took to engage them. It wasn’t revolutionary but it worked.

One of my main approaches was to explain to them why the subject mattered. What it meant generally and should also mean to them. Getting to the place of relevance rather than a mere course they had to pass was almost always the key. With the understanding came interest. With interest came effort, and with effort came improvements in grades.

That wasn’t always the case of course. Some students had difficulties that needed to be overcome. Some were simply never going to be interested. That was fine, I merely worked at what I could achieve and I made consistent progress.

This success was possibly the root of the worst conflict I had with Vanessa. As good as she was, my students were slowly but surely surpassing hers.

One of our senior teachers had visited after school let out. We were in the office just the three of us and he commented on the improving grades. He made an off the cuff remark to Vanessa about how she could learn from me, right before he left.

Her countenance had noticeably darkened. I knew she wasn’t taking it well. When he’d been gone for nearly a minute she was still scowling. She broke the silence with what I took to be a fairly hositle statement. “There’s nothing I need to be learning off you, so don’t get carried away.” It was this little comment that began it all, and now I wish I’d held my tongue instead of the response I gave.

“What have I done to you?” I cried. “Please help me understand, I have no idea why you hate me so much.” I wanted to cry in frustration. The situation was driving me mad I couldn’t take this unprovoked hostility anymore without at least trying to find out.

I thought she was going to yell at me her face was a mask of anger. She stared at me without replying for an uncomfortable period of time. I wondered if she might be about to hit me. Finally she sighed and her shoulders slumped. An expression of sorrow filled her countenance.

She took a step forward. I flinched thinking she was going to do something. I would have backed away but I was already almost touching the wall. She stepped forward again. Her face almost filled my vision, she was uncomfortably close, I could feel her breath. I was afraid of what she might do, I’d never been in a fight. Unexpectedly, the worry was abruptly banished from my mind.

Her lips were on mine, her tongue was in my mouth. Her hands were on my boobs and her leg was wedged between mine. Her hair smelled like sweet melon. Her lips were soft and she tasted of tangy green apple. Breathing hot and heavily she pushed harder against me. Her kiss had urgency, desperation, and purpose.

Her hands released my boobs and grabbed my head pulling me deeper into her kiss. She wasn’t letting me go and her hips began to push at me. I creamed my knickers when it dawned on me we were about to have sex right here.

Sure enough she finally shifted to my neck and her right hand dropped to my waist. Without ceremony it was inside my skirt. I wanted those fingers on my pussy, the anticipation was killing me. She paused as if waiting for permission. Her lips and tongue moved to my earlobe and I moaned.

My hands found her firm full breasts and I couldn’t stop groping them. The hand under my skirt pushed under my panties. I sighed when her fingers found me. Gently at first she slowly built up her pace. When I moaned her lips sought me out once more. Her tongue wrapped itself round mine, while our lips clung to each other.