Dana Baxter has been teaching at Fillmore Academy for three years. It was a private school for 9th–12th graders. Except for an occasional grumpy student or parent who thought their offspring deserved a better grade than she gave them, Dana seldom encountered any problems from the students. For the most part, the kids behaved well and were ready to learn. Any disruption to the learning environment was cause for expulsion at the headmaster’s discretion. There was a waiting list of students prepared to take an unruly student’s place.

So, Dana’s reaction to a flagrant, disrespectful action of a student on this particular afternoon was out of character. This is her story.

I stood at the back of the class as the documentary of Hitler’s rise to power played out in front of my 4^th-year history class. I felt a hand on my ass. I was so surprised that I didn’t move as his fingers squeezed my butt cheeks. I looked at Steve Shaw, the boy who was operating the laptop. He was looking straight ahead as he continued to touch me. I didn’t think Steve would try something like this with me. But apparently, he thought he could get away with it while no one was paying attention to us in the darkened classroom. Steve is a high honors student, very mature, and good-looking for a teenage boy. Being caught unaware, I may have let him play longer than was appropriate before removing his hand from my ass. He looked at me and smiled. I shook my head to let him know that was a no-no.

I admit I may have had fantasies about a few of my students in the past, but I had never acted on them. What woman doesn’t have a sexual thought every once in a while when she sees a good-looking young man? I know I do.

I know I should have reported him, but he had so much to lose if I did. He would undoubtedly lose his scholarship, ruin his future and possibly have a criminal record. He wasn’t the first guy to grope my ass. Some I let do a hell of a lot more than that. I’m twenty-eight and single, but certainly not celibate.

I go out on Saturday night with my girlfriend, Brenda Tilly, to have a few drinks and flirt. Brenda is also a teacher at Fillmore Academy. Two weeks after the incident, I had a couple of drinks with Brenda on our Saturday night out, well, maybe more than a couple. It was then that I told Brenda about being groped by Steve Shaw.

Brenda looked at me as if not believing me, “Oh my god, he groped your ass right in the classroom. And you let him.”

“I didn’t let him. He just did it, and I didn’t do anything about it.”

“So why haven’t you reported him?” Brenda asked.

“It’s kind of late now. It was two weeks ago.”

I deflected Brenda’s questions about why I didn’t report it: “There were no witnesses. It could just get ugly when his parents’ lawyers showed up. I’ve done some crazy thing like everyone else, and I don’t need them digging up my past.” None of my excuses came close to the truth.

“Steve hasn’t done anything suggestive since then, has he?” Brenda asked.

“No, he acts as if it never happened.”

“You know, Dana, Steve is kind of cute. When I think of what he did, I think it might be sexy to get groped like that right in my classroom. Not that I would want it to happen, but the thought of it happening is kind of sexy to think about.” Brenda also had a few drinks, so I didn’t take her comment seriously.

Brenda laughed when I joked, “I’ll tell Steve to call you.” I thought about how long I let him feel my ass before I took his hand away. Then, I didn’t even move away until the film ended. Most people would have slapped his hand away instantly with at least a stern reprimand. But not me. I let him feel my ass for four or five seconds before I let him know he should stop. The other thing that bothered me was that I thought about the incident almost every day, not as an unwanted sexual assault but as a sexual adventure.

I assured Brenda that it was a one-time thing and that I wouldn’t expect Steve to repeat such a foolish act. Although I wasn’t so sure, I wouldn’t allow Steve to grope me if the situation ever presented itself again. You know, just for a moment to get that thrill back again ... I needed to stop drinking.

Another week went by, and my lesson plan included another documentary. I introduced the documentary on the Cold War from 1945 to 1991. I walked to the back of the room where Steve had the laptop set up, and started the film. One of the girls put out the lights and sat down.

The film had been running for about fifteen minutes when I felt Steve’s hand on my ass. I scanned the room, and everyone was paying attention to the film. I would have been disappointed if he hadn’t felt me up. There was no reason in the world why I had to stand in this exact spot except to tempt him. And why wouldn’t he try again? It had been three weeks, and no one dragged him to the headmaster’s office. I had put my ass no more than a foot away from him.

I stood still and felt his hand low and in the middle of my ass. He squeezed both my ass cheeks with a finger pushed into my ass crack. I didn’t move or make a sound. I was breathing through my mouth and trying not to look at Steve. As was the dress code for female teachers and students, the hem of my full skirt was three inches below my knees.

After a minute of feeling my ass, he took his hand away. I glanced at Steve. I’m sure I had a look of disappointment on my face. But then I felt a hand on the back of my calf. My body stiffened. I looked straight ahead, feeling his warm hand on my bare skin. His hand moved under my skirt to the inside of my thigh, just above my knee. I spread my legs a couple of inches. He caressed my thigh, moving his hand up and down lightly against my skin. I took a deep breath and started to breathe faster.

His hand went higher and came in contact with my panties. He squeezed my ass cheeks affectionately. I’m sure if anyone was standing behind me, they would see the back of my skirt draped over his arm, my panties, and his hand on my ass. I bit my lower lip as his hand made circles over my ass cheeks. His hand moved down to again caress my thigh and slowly moved higher. I felt the edge of his hand press against my pussy. I’m sure he could feel that I was wet. His hand turned and squeezed. I spread my legs a little further apart as I held my bottom lip between my teeth to try and keep myself from moaning as he rubbed my pussy. His middle finger pushed the wet fabric of my panties between my pussy lips and rubbed my clit. His thumb rested on my anus. I put a hand on his desk to steady myself as his finger massaged my clit through my panties. I wondered what Steve was thinking as I allowed him unrestricted access to my most private parts. He certainly knew I wasn’t forced to stand in this particular spot, and nothing was keeping me from moving away except the extremely erotic nature of doing something so outlandish in such an unusual and public place. Steve hadn’t even been rubbing me for a minute before my pussy was twitching with mini convulsions in anticipation of an orgasm.

I didn’t have long to wait before I shuddered as my orgasm overtook me. If the whole class had turned around at that moment to watch, I wouldn’t have stopped Steve from masturbating me. The waves of endorphins and contractions slowly subsided. I reached back, took hold of Steve’s wrist, and moved his hand away. He didn’t resist my attempt to end our clandestine behavior.

I straightened my skirt and moved away without even acknowledging Steve’s participation or existence in our promiscuous behavior. I sat at one of the empty desks, well away from Steve, until the documentary ended. When the lights came on, I went to the front of the room, gave the class a reading assignment for next week and took a few questions. When the bell rang, I sat at my desk and watched the kids file out. Steve closed the laptop and left through the rear door of the classroom. As soon as everyone had left, I went to the ladies’ room. I went into a stall and removed my soaked panties. I wiped myself dry, then bunched up my panties and put them in my purse.