Teacher for Valentine's Day

The odds of the sexiest high school teacher in Swift Rapids walking into the restaurant where I worked on Valentine's Day weren't as astronomical as you might think, mostly because it was a tiny town and we were one of about five options for couples that night. She and her man were dressed for the holiday, him in a blazer, slacks, and button down, none of which fit him quite right thanks to a little extra weight, and her in a sleeveless red dress that was sexy without being so daring that she'd draw the ire of bitchy parents if they were seen out, and they would be.
Ms. Regan saw me, brightened, and waved enthusiastically. I finished clearing the table in front of me and hurried over, my big plastic bin of dirty dishes under one arm. It was crazy busy that night, as it always was on holidays, but this was Ms. Regan, and she was definitely worth a little ass-chewing from my boss.
"Mr. Morrow! I forgot you worked here!" she said. Fuck, but she was beautiful. Long black hair that hung halfway down her back, done that night in waves, but usually held back in class in a ponytail or a braid. I liked the waves. That was fuck-me hair if I'd ever seen it before, hair that made you think about grabbing a fistful of it while she stared up at you with those dark, sparkling eyes and wide lips wrapped around you. Fuuuck. And the rest of her was killer too, a heart-shaped face, killer boobs I don't think I'd ever seen on such fine display as that night, and an athletic figure that nonetheless had some serious holy shit factor when it came to her ass and thighs. She was maybe thirty, or thereabouts, putting her twelve years older than me.
Let me put it to you another way. When you think of a teacher, you might think of frizzy-haired women in dowdy clothes your great-grandmother would have approved of, maybe with some big glasses thrown into the mix. Or you might think of porn stars wearing tight skirts and open blouses with deep cleavage, again, probably with glasses. Ms. Regan was neither of those things. She had an Instagram model's face and the body to go with it, but most days dressed down enough that you'd never guess she was as busty as she actually was. Not that night, though. That night she was elegant and sexy, both at once.
"Hey, Ms. Regan," I said, grinning. My ex-girlfriend Dana told me my smile was my best feature, apart from a certain other part of my anatomy. I don't know if she was right or not about the smile, but she sure seemed to appreciate the other thing. "I'm usually just here on the weekends but hey, great tips tonight. Happy Valentine's Day. And to you too, Mr. Miller."
Aaron Miller wasn't a bad looking guy, not really, just a little overweight and starting to go bald. He had piercing eyes and a face that used to be handsome in a craggy sort of way, but now his soft chin dominated it. He'd also shaven his usual beard that night, not a great look for him. I noticed he missed a tiny patch at the base of his neck and wondered if I could slip him a discreet message about it somehow. Eh, not my problem, I supposed.
I wonder what would have happened if I tried, because almost certainly he would have looked at me in a better light. But I didn't. My guilt in the proceedings I leave to your judgment, but I don't feel bad about it in the slightest.
"Parker, right?" Mr. Miller asked.
"Yes, sir," I said. My dad served back in the day, so addressing people as "sir" or "ma'am" was about as natural to me as blinking.
"Great to see you. We have reservations but I wanted to ask, does it come with a drink or are those extra?"
I was taken aback by the cold shoulder when I was just trying to be friendly, and I saw in the sharp way Ms. Regan looked at him that she was too. Neither of us said anything about his attitude, and I recovered fast. "Ah, drinks are extra. Only the meal is included. But that prime rib looks amazing."
"Then I'll just have water. Octavia?"
"A glass of chardonnay," Ms. Regan said. "Thank you so much. If you get a little break, come say hi again!"
I was young but I could recognize an unspoken apology when I heard one, and gave her a warm smile. When I hurried away back towards the kitchen, I gave their drink orders to their waitress and got back to work bussing tables.
Like I mentioned, we were slammed that night, and the flow of people kept my attention. But I found plenty of time to sneak looks over at Ms. Regan. I'd have her in English class the next day, and I was going to have a hell of a time not thinking about her in that dress. I didn't mean anything by the looks, I really didn't. She was a fantasy, yeah, but never in a million years did I believe I actually had a shot with her. But my dick held the reins that night and I enjoyed my stolen glances.
She glanced in my direction too a few times, and on the last, the one that triggered everything, I winked at her. It was a harmless playful moment, and I was out of eyesight of her boyfriend. I didn't think anything of it and I don't think she would have either, except she grinned. And Mr. Miller went fucking nuclear.
There could be no question where the bang emanated from, but it still shocked me into stillness for a couple seconds. "Will you pay attention to me for one fucking minute?" Mr. Miller shouted.
Everyone went quiet as a mouse in that restaurant. Everyone. On my grave, I'd swear to you, even the prime rib on people's plates and in the kitchen sat back and mentally thought, "Whoa, bruh, overreact much?"
"Aaron, I-" Ms. Regan started, but he cut her off.
"Enough! You think I don't see your eyes wandering? You think I don't know what you're doing?"
Whatever she meant to say never left her lips. He shot to his feet, and with him came their plates, glasses, and silverware, the plates and glasses shattering. He started to say something else, but I was there, getting between them.
"Enough," I said.
"You little shit," he growled, and shoved me.
Here's a thing I couldn't work into this little tale until this point. I'm not a small guy. I played football for three years until my dad caught the brown bag bug and lost his job and my mom needed extra help making bills. I still worked out in my free time, and growing up the poorest kid in a school full of poor kids meant I had been in a lot of fights. So when his hands connected with me, I sent him to yip-yap with the Sandman with one hell of a hard right to his temple.
The whole place erupted into cheers. I stared down at him and said, "Holy crap. Oh shit. Oh shit!"
I thought I'd killed Mr. Miller. I hadn't -- he would be out for a minute, but he was far from dead, something a customer, a nurse, confirmed when she leaned down to check on him. By that point, the cops had been called and I was still staring down at the man I'd punched out, in complete shock and wondering in the back of my mind if I was going to jail or something.
I wasn't. I'd just become a local legend.
* * * * *
Legend or not, I still had to go to school in the morning. I didn't usually see my mom in the mornings before she went off to work at the gas station, but she was there that day, taking a couple hours off to make me breakfast and lavish me with praise.
"Helen Vaskova said you got applause for a minute straight," Mom said, beaming at me. I loved seeing her happy. It was a pretty rare sight those days now that Dad spent his time in front of a computer playing video games and drinking. I don't hate my dad, but for a few years there, he was pretty utterly useless until Mom divorced him and he got his shit together a few months past the scope of this story. I only mention all this so that you can kind of see where I was coming from. I felt protective of the women in my life.
"Aw, I don't know about that," I said, forking up a bite of triple-stacked pancakes. There was bacon too, but I'd already eaten four pieces and Mom, in typical Mom fashion, hadn't taken any for herself, knowing how much I loved it.
"You're a good boy. A good man, now, I guess."
It was the best compliment she'd ever given me. Shit, it might have been the best compliment I'd ever received, period, except for my ex-girlfriend's "Holy shit, you fuck like a porn star or something."
"Thanks, Mom," I said, genuinely touched. I finished off my pancakes and she pushed the bacon at me. I smiled at her and leaned back. "No, I think I'm done. Pretty full."
"You, full?"
"Miracles happen, I guess." I pushed the bacon back to her, and felt lighter when she took a piece. "I gotta get to school. Love you."
"Love you too. And I am proud of you." She looked towards the bedrooms and added wearily, "We both are."
I took her hand in mine and squeezed.
At school, I was greeted like I'd saved Ms. Regan from a gang of muggers instead of a chubby guy who never saw the punch coming. I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me feel pretty good, especially when I saw my ex Dana looking at me with doubt and obvious regret in her eyes. Sorry, baby, I thought, but you made your choice fucking Harry.
Things calmed down throughout the day until I was finally left alone altogether, right up to Ms. Regan's class. All eyes were on us then, and she didn't bother hiding her frequent smiles directed at me. She looked good that day, though she was back in plain old teacher garb, a formless long-sleeve top, high-waisted jeans, and sneakers. That was all right, I had my fantasies to rely on.
At the end of class, she asked, "Mr. Morrow, mind sticking around?"
We got some obligatory "oooohs," and I said with overacted breathiness, "Oh, anything for you, Ms. Regan, anything at all."
That rest of the class shuffled out and I stood up to come to the front of the class. She shut the door behind the last student and went to her desk, sitting up on it and smiling at me. "I guarantee you we have listeners at the door," she said.
I went and looked, and sure enough, there was my best friend Josh and a girl from class named Callie. "We thought you guys might make out," Josh said, and I shut the door again in their faces.
"I think they're gone now," I said loudly. "Quick, get naked."
Ms. Regan snickered at that and folded her arms across her breasts. "I told Mr. Brown earlier today that I needed to speak to you. You'll be okay being a few minutes late for his class. Thank you again for standing up for me. That was..." She clicked her tongue. "That was a very brave thing."
"It wasn't brave. I'd hope any guy in that restaurant would have done the same thing."
"But they didn't, did they?"
I thought about it and shook my head. "I guess not."
"The reasons for which could probably fill dozens of psychology, political science, and ethics books, but that's not a discussion for the here and now."
"Are you okay?" I asked. "I mean...at home? With him?"
"Oh yes. He's spending the day packing his things and moving out. If he's still there when I get home, the sheriff's office has told him they'll very kindly help him off the premises. I'm not sure what they'd actually charge him with, but Aaron did not seem thrilled with the idea."
"Good. What happened, Ms. Regan? What the hell set him off? I mean, obviously I shouldn't have been winking at you and staring, but..."
"No. No," she said firmly, a hint of fire in her eyes. "This was not your fault. He's been growing more and more jealous as he gets older and a little, mm, insecure."
"His weight and his hair?"
She gave a pause like there might be something she wanted to add to that, but nodded. "Yes. That's right. And a young man as handsome as you drawing my eye..."
"Handsome, huh?"
She shrugged. "It's the truth. And if saying that gets me in trouble with administration, oh well. But how are you? Is your hand all right?"
"I'm fine," I said. "Gave my statement last night and that was it. Deputy Claggett said when I graduate, I should apply to become a deputy."
"You'd be a good one, I'm sure."
The first bell for the next period rang. Ms. Regan moved to the door and I started that way myself. She held up one finger in my direction -- wait -- and looked outside before shutting it again. She turned to me, and said softly, "Now we really are alone."
It took me a moment. A long moment. But I kinda started to get the hint as to what was happening when she walked towards me. "Mrs. Regan, I... I didn't do that to... because you're hot as fuck... I mean, hell, hot as... I didn't... I..."
"So you don't want a blowjob?" she asked, her eyes dancing. "You're eighteen. I looked up your file."
"Fuck me," I breathed and came out of my daze. "Administration... the security cameras..."
Her fingers went to my jeans. "They only check them if there's a problem. And if we hurry, if we don't take more than a few minutes, no one will know there's a problem."
"If we only have a few minutes, I'd rather fuck you," I said. I wasn't sure I'd said the word "fuck" to a teacher before but now I'd gone and said it at least three times to Ms. Regan.
She laughed throatily. "Cheeky. I think we can manage that but I want us to be able to take our time about it. Tonight, my place. Say... seven. Can you get away? Without raising suspicions?"
Dad would almost certainly be drunk and passed out by then, and a little lie wasn't going to hurt my mom. I didn't think she'd care all that much about the truth anyways, but better to protect Ms. Regan than not. "Yeah, I think so."
"I'll leave the garage door open and you can shut it after you pull in. Then..." she worked my jeans down to my knees. "Then... then we can..." Her eyes widened as she took me in hand. "Oh... oh wow. That is... not what I was expecting."
"So sorry to disappoint," I said, grinning.
"Now I see why all the girls smile around you," Ms. Regan said as she dropped to her knees.
I thought about telling her I'd only ever actually been with one, but let it go when she pulled her top up over her big breasts. The bra she wore was made for support and not the sexiest thing, but goddamn if it didn't ride front and center in my dreams for years anyways.
"You get to see the rest later," she said. "For now, warn me when you're going to come."
I didn't believe this was really happening until Ms. Regan wrapped her lips around me. I was eighteen and walked around most days half-hard anyways, but my sexy teacher on her knees sucking and licking my tip while her fingers encircled the base of my shaft sent me towards crowbar-hardness in no time.
She came off me with a flick of her tongue along my base and said softly, "Extra credit for being very well trimmed, Mr. Morrow."
"Wait until you see what I do with my tongue tonight," I said as she stroked me faster, holding my tip against her cheek. "You'll never give me anything less than an A again."
"Mm, promise?" she asked. I didn't need to answer. She was already sucking me again.
Outside her classroom, someone called to someone else and we both froze. But when nothing else happened, Ms. Regan sucked me faster, bobbing her head back and forth along my length. Remembering my fantasy from the night before about taking a fistful of her hair while I fucked her mouth, I gripped her hair in its ponytail now, my hips jerking minutely back and forth and meeting her tongue and her hungry mouth.
"Ah, fuck, Ms. Regan," I breathed. An older, more experienced me would have told her how sexy she was, how I loved the way her tongue was swishing along my base, the sultry look in her eyes when she'd hold mine. But I was only eighteen then, incapable of knowing yet that some women loved a vocal man, loved him moaning and telling her what a good job she was doing. All I knew in that moment was pleasure, and suffice it to say, Ms. Regan was there to dole it out that day.
She came off me with a slurp and whispered, "Don't hold back, come for me, come fast now and we can take our time later."
I nodded and she sucked me harder and faster, my English teacher driving me into clenching my fist in her hair, pulling her face towards me as I fucked her mouth. For a horrifying moment, I thought I'd gone too far, was being too rough, but she moaned enthusiastically and nodded as best she could around me. So I fucked her face harder, making her choke on my dick, getting a "Hurk! Hurk! Hurk!" out of her each time I slammed deep in her mouth and hit the back of her throat.
"Close," I gasped, probably too loud but it didn't matter. But Ms. Regan seemed to ignore me and took me again and again. "Close, going to..."
Ms. Regan winked up at me. She knew, and she wanted me to come inside her mouth. This was surreal. My last girlfriend didn't mind blowjobs but never wanted me to come in her mouth. The idea of coming in my teacher's was too much and warmth jetted out of me, hitting the back of her throat and filling her mouth. She swallowed it down and pulled free of me, gasping and grinning.
"Fuck, that was..." I said, at a loss for words.
"Shhhh, sh sh sh. Get back to class now. And when you leave, don't look around, don't act suspicious. Treat it like you were leaving any other classroom any other time."
I nodded frantically. "You really meant it about tonight?"
She rattled off an address, and added, "You tell me. Want to fuck a teacher?"
* * * * *
Teenagers can actually keep a secret. Shocking, I know. Much as I might want to tell the story to someone, when my friends gave me shit about being kept after class, and cracked jokes about the two of us, I grinned and said, "Yeah, right, didn't you hear Ms. Regan screaming my name up and down the hallways?" I'd always known instinctually slipping a kernel of truth into a lie made it all the more believable, so blowing what we'd actually done way out of proportion helped turn their questions aside.
I worked out after school with some of the guys from the football and basketball teams before heading home. I needed that release of tension or else I was going to drive myself crazy waiting for seven. My dad was outside, pushing a snow shovel around half-heartedly. I took over for him, and spent the next hour shoveling not only our driveway and sidewalk, but four or five of the surrounding houses. By the time I came in, Dad was seated at his computer, killing goblins or something by the dozens. I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for him in that moment, and brought him a fresh beer when he asked, squeezing his shoulder when he called me a good guy. We talked some about my fight the night before, and he even offered me a beer too in celebration. I turned him down, telling him I needed to drive later, that I was going to go watch a movie with friends.
"Is that what we're calling sneaking out with a girl these days?" Dad asked. He grinned when my eyes widened. "You've pulled out your phone three times now to look at the time. There's no movie that's got a teenager's attention that much."
"Ah, shit, busted," I said. "Yeah. One of the girls from school-" again, a kernel of truth "-wants to, ah, hang out. She was there last night and it got her pretty excited."
"I'll bet. You have condoms?"
"Yes sir." Again, not a lie. I did have two in my wallet, but I was also clean, having gotten tested after my ex-girlfriend cheated on me.
"Good. I want you to have fun. But be careful."
"I will." I nodded at the screen. "What do we got going on here?"
"Almost to the level cap with my necromancer."
We talked about that some, even if video games had never really been my thing. I liked actual sports. So had Dad, back in high school and the military. But something in him broke over the years, some need to escape reality. I couldn't blame him, not really. Reality sucked sometimes. I just wish his pain didn't rope us all in.
Mom came home at six, exhausted and looking it. She smiled wearily at me and went to kiss Dad. "What's cooking?" she asked him.
"Huh? Nothing I made."