Teacher's Pest Ch. 01

"And what did you have in mind that will take us more than a few minutes? I can't imagine that you'd be up for more than a quickie. At least, that's what I heard that your girlfriend says..."

"That's IT!" Dave bellowed, "Willie and Sarah, I want you to leave. Go on and join the others at the Pizza Palace. I'll re-schedule the review session for a more appropriate day than Friday." He waited until they had gathered up their things and left.

"And YOU, young lady -- get the hell out of my class and march your ass down to Mr. Marklein's office. I'll let HIM deal with your nonsense."

Tiffany began to pout. Dave noticed the fullness of her lips, the shine of the overhead lights reflecting off her ruby red lip gloss. For the first time, he registered the extreme beauty of her eyes. She must be wearing contact lenses, he realized, since surely she couldn't see clearly without those Coke bottle lenses she usually wore.

"But, Mr. B., it's lunchtime. Mr. Marklein has cafeteria duty. And besides, I want YOU to be the one..."

"The one... to what?" stammered Dave, still fuming, confused by her unfinished statement.

"Never mind," Tiffany sighed, "I guess I can't expect a moron to figure things out."

"Moron? If you use that word with me one more time, Tiffany, I'm going to have no choice but to turn you over my knee again!"

"Is that a promise -- MORON?"

And with that, Tiffany lay across Mr. Barry's chair and hiked up her skirt. Her creamy white ass cheeks were once again completely exposed.

To his consternation, Mr. Barry felt the unexpected stir of his cock in his pants. He'd never felt anything sexual toward his students before. After all, they were just kids. They were immature, not his intellectual or emotional equals.

But Tiffany was different. She was certainly his intellectual equal -- probably his superior. At eighteen, she was more mature than most of her peers. But she was still a kid in many ways. She was a thorn in his side, taking verbal jabs at him frequently and mercilessly, baiting him and embarrassing him in front of the class. What the hell was wrong with her?

And now, here she was, completely vulnerable, exposed from the waist down. And apparently -- wanting him to spank her!

Suddenly, he could see the manipulation for what it was. Ever since that first spanking, she seemed to find opportunities to more fiercely and more deliberately push his buttons. Was it to get him to do it again? Surely she would have told somebody if it had humiliated her in the way he figured it would. She could have gotten him fired by now, but instead she was back for more.

"Put your damned skirt back down, Tiffany," commanded Mr. Barry, "you are one fucked up kid."

"I'm NOT a kid!" declared Tiffany, "and... I've never been fucked..."

"TMI, Tiffany -- 'Too Much Information'. Your love life isn't my business. And you've just proven that you ARE a kid. A mature woman wouldn't practically beg a man she's not involved with to spank her bare ass."

The remark hit its target. Tiffany's lower lip quivered. Tears began to stream down her face. She flipped her skirt back down, grabbed her backpack, and headed toward the door. "Not INVOLVED?" she shouted tearfully as she left the room.

That night, Dave once again struggled to sleep. He was troubled deep in his soul. Every grain of professionalism within him told him it was wrong to lust after one of his students. But he couldn't help it.

His brain seemed to be running in overdrive. It kept playing back the events of lunchtime in slow motion. And despite the fact that she could be annoying as hell and had a lot of growing up to do, Dave had to admit to himself that he found her exquisitely attractive, both intellectually and physically.

As he lay awake, Dave could see Tiffany's beautiful blue eyes, no longer masked by those ridiculous eyeglasses, in his mind's eye. She was just like the nerdy girls in teen movies who turn out to be thinly-veiled foxes, tainted only by a bad pair of glasses and frumpy clothes.

He saw the gloss of her luscious ruby red lips, daring to spar with him verbally, then pouting when things didn't go her way. He wanted to kiss those lips.

He saw blonde tendrils of her silken mane of hair drifting out from under her tiara. He wanted to feel her hair sweep across his naked chest, and further down toward more erogenous zones.

He saw the sequins on her ballerina top glistening in the fluorescent light, the slight swell of her maturing breasts peeking above the "V" neckline. He wanted to touch, to fondle, to suckle below the neckline.

He saw her long, supple legs, white rather than tan, exposed from ankle to high thigh in her short skirt and patent leather shoes. He wanted to massage those legs, to taste the essence of her fair skin. The whiteness conveyed a sense of purity, of innocence. And what was it she had said about having never been fucked?

And then he saw her beautiful bare buttocks, exposed to him through her simple act of submission in presenting them to him for her punishment. He wanted to plant his erection between those beautiful buttocks, taking her feminine slit doggy style. Her declaration that she could take anything -- "anything at all" -- drifted through his mind time and time again.

He mentally explored what could comprise the "anything." Hadn't she said she'd keep her mouth shut until he wanted her to open it? He could think of something for which she could open it. Or maybe he could punish her rear end with something more creative than his open palm. Or maybe he could flip her over from that bare-assed position and punish her virgin pussy, missionary style, with his raging hard-on.

"Damn," he thought, "I need a girlfriend! It's been WAY too long. I can't pine away after some bratty kid who's never gonna happen!"

He rested in fits and starts for the remainder of the night, opting not to relieve the massive boner that thoughts of Tiffany had stirred in him. He'd be damned if he was going to jack off to thoughts of a senior chemistry student.

"Mr. B., can I talk to you?" asked Tiffany in the hallway the next morning.

"Sure, Tiffany," Dave answered guardedly, "what's on your mind?" He noticed a change in her demeanor, and inhaled the scent of her freshly washed hair.

"You mentioned that you'd give some one-on-one time to students who need extra prep for the final exam. Can I meet with you sometime soon?"

"But Tiffany -- you're my best student..."

A smile lit up her face. He had deftly pushed the pride button. "Um... okay, Mr. B., let me just be straight with you. I need to talk to you one-on-one about something besides chemistry. Something... personal."

Her eyes -- again sans glasses -- shimmered with eagerness. Her perky freckled nose twitched briefly with nervousness.

"Don't you think you should see Ms. Wygal? She's the designated guidance counselor for girls. She can help with... personal matters."

"This doesn't have anything to do with HER," Tiffany replied petulantly, "it has to do with YOU."

"Shit!" thought Dave, "She's gonna give me my come-uppance about spanking her. Maybe she's going to blackmail me!"

"Oh, I see," he said aloud. "Well, in that case, how about during lunch today?"

"How about after school?" she said, "And how about at your place? I'd prefer for it to be where nobody else can interrupt us."

Dave's brain was flashing red lights and sounding warning bells. His professional ethics and fiduciary responsibilities would in no way allow for him to meet a student for personal consultation at his own home.

"Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea, Tiffany," he replied.

The disappointment was written all over her face. "Why not?" she asked.

"Well, um, Tiffany," he started, "some people could see it as inappropriate. I mean, after all, with me being a man and you a young woman..."

Tiffany's radiant smile beamed from ear to ear, dazzling Dave with its sincerity. "Young woman?" she asked, "Don't you mean 'kid'?"

Dave was tempted to reply cynically with a caustic quip, but he somehow couldn't bring himself to do it. Temper tantrums and bare-assed spankings aside, he had to admit that Tiffany was a blossoming young woman.

"No, you're no kid," he said, "I was just yanking your chain yesterday. Turnabout's fair play."

Tiffany once again lit up the hallway with her smile. "Well, regardless of what people think, I'll be by your house at 5:00. I won't take 'no' for an answer!"

As she started to walk away, Dave blurted, "But how do you know where I live?"

"Mr. B," Tiffany retorted, "any MORON can use the phone book, whether in print or on-line!" With that, she flashed him a devilish grin and darted up the hallway.

At 4:52 PM, Dave peered out his front window for a third time. He didn't know whether to run or to turn on some mood music.

He opted to straddle the line, and set out some soft drinks on the table between the two chairs on his front porch. He'd keep her outside on this nice late spring day, so that nobody could accuse him of taking advantage of her behind closed doors.

At 4:58, Dave could see her in the distance, walking down the sidewalk in his direction. His heart began to race, and his cock began to stir. He felt perspiration above his lip and on his forehead.

"Damn! That girl is trouble!" he said out loud. "Can't let her get to me!" he thought.

Tiffany was wearing a cottony spring dress, one with a floral print about the midriff, pure white from the waist down and around the breasts, with white spaghetti straps at the shoulders. The top of the dress was the clingy, form-fitting kind. It accented her thin midriff and budding breasts. It appeared that she wore no bra underneath.

He noticed as she approached that the sunlight filtered through the cottony white bottom of her dress, so that her bare legs were visible in shadow through the material. He wondered if she was wearing any panties underneath. What he wouldn't give to find out. "Crap -- stop that, you pervert!" he scolded himself.

As she stepped on the porch, Dave couldn't contain himself. "You look -- wonderful!" he said.

Tiffany's radiant smile appeared once again. To his astonishment, she leaned toward him and gave him a hug.

Not knowing how to deal with the "no physical contact between teacher and student" dictum, he declined to return the hug, but didn't shrug out of her grasp either. After a brief embrace, she stepped back and said, "Thank you, Mr. B."

"For what?"

"For saying that I look 'wonderful' -- for treating me like a grown-up," she replied simply.

"Well, there's no denying you're all grown up -- at least, mostly..."

"That's what I came to talk to you about," she said, "I came to apologize for my behavior. I got to thinking about what you said. Treating you like shit all year wasn't very adult of me. And begging you to spank me was... let's just say -- premature."

"Don't you mean 'immature'?"

"I meant exactly what I said, Mr. B. Remember, I'm not the one who accidently mixes up what I mean to say," she teased.

"Touché," Dave replied, still not quite understanding this confusing young lady.

"And, as to WHY I did what I did," Tiffany began, "did you ever think I might be trying to get your ATTENTION?"

"Well, um... quite honestly, I guess not," Dave answered.

"While we're being honest, can I be totally transparent with you?" she asked.

Dave immediately thought of the enticing shadow of her long legs under that filmy white dress when she used the word "transparent." "Um, sure," he replied.

"Mr. B., I -- I've had a MAJOR crush on you for the past three years," she admitted, "ever since you arrived at our school. People talk, especially in school -- and I heard a LOT about you. Then, when I took your chemistry class, I found out it was all true! You were this handsome, kind, shy, intelligent, somewhat nerdy guy -- all characteristics that I find incredibly attractive. And you happened to be -- a teacher."

Dave was floored. "Uh huh..." was all he could manage to say.

"I've always found the boys in high school to be just that -- BOYS. That's why I wear putrid glasses, no makeup and baggy clothes to school. Those boys ARE the perverts that you were talking about that day when you told me to wear panties under my skirt."

Dave's face flushed at the recollection.

"But you -- you're a MAN," she continued, "Not just looking to get into a girl's panties -- there's more to you than your dick. You think with your MIND."

"If you only knew what's been controlling my thoughts about YOU lately," Dave thought to himself. Outwardly, he protested, "You sure don't seem too impressed with my mind in class."

"That's because I'm 'yanking your chain,' as you like to say -- messing with you to get your attention. Like Shakespeare said, 'Methinks the lady doth protest too much.' That's me! But you seem fixated on the fact that I'm your STUDENT -- not a young WOMAN who shares a hell of a lot in common with you."

Dave was deluged with a flood of conflicting emotions. She was right -- he DID put a "student" label on her and cast her neatly into that role. But, dammit, wasn't that what he was SUPPOSED to do?

"Let's say you're right," Dave replied hesitantly, "let's say I've slotted you in the wrong box. And just suppose -- for argument's sake -- that I find you incredibly attractive, too. Suppose that everything about you -- your intellectual curiosity, your drive to excel, your caustic sense of humor, your athleticism, your stunning good looks under that dorky façade -- is a mystery I want to unravel. Keep in mind that I'm only speaking hypothetically..."

Tiffany's silly grin betrayed her knowledge that he couldn't have spoken so vividly if he were speaking "hypothetically."

A bee circled and landed on the rim of Dave's glass, and he swatted it away.

"And suppose, dearest Tiffany, that I desperately want to have a relationship with you. And that I lay awake at night thinking about you."

"Really?" she interrupted.

He paused. "Really," he confessed.

"I thought I was the only one dorky enough to do that," she smiled. She didn't tell him that she masturbated to thoughts of him, nor did he tell her that he had the worst time trying not to do the same to thoughts of her.

He returned her smile. "That doesn't change the fact that you're my student. I'd get fired, maybe sued, maybe even ARRESTED if I got involved with you."

"Mr. B., have you ever heard of Shakespeare's 'The Taming of the Shrew'?"

"Of course," replied Dave.

"Well, do you actually KNOW the story?"

"Look, Tiffany, my major in college was chemistry. I didn't have too many Shakespeare courses," admitted Dave.

"Well, let me just say that I see you in the role of Lucentio. He's a private teacher for Bianca, but in fact he has the HOTS for Bianca. And she has the hots for him, and eventually they get married. If it's good enough for Shakespeare, it's good enough for me."

"I'll still get arrested," Dave lamented, "and I have my professional ethics. I can't change who I am."

"We do have a problem," she stated matter-of-factly, "but I have a simple solution. And it won't involve changing you -- I like you just the way you are."

"And what might that simple solution be?" he inquired.

"Easy. Graduation! I'm already eighteen, and in three weeks I'll no longer be your student!"

Dave looked into Tiffany's eyes, mesmerized. "You mean -- in three weeks, you want to start a courtship?" he asked.

"That sounds rather old-fashioned," she laughed, "let's just say, come graduation, we get started in earnest."

Dave's heart was beating at what felt like twice the normal rate. He reached across the table and put his hand on Tiffany's. "I like the sound of that," he said simply.

"You'll like more than just the sound," she promised, "I'll engage all five of your senses." With that, she leaned across the small table and kissed him fully on the lips.

It was all he could do not to pounce on her right then and there. As their tongues entwined and both became disoriented as to time and space, their cans of soda tumbled over on the table and began dripping onto the porch.

"We'd better watch out for what the neighbors will think," Dave muttered. "I'll go get something to clean this up."

"I'd better get home," she answered breathlessly, "my folks will be expecting me for dinner."

Dave watched as she skipped away down the sidewalk, sunlight once again casting shadows through the lower part of her dress.

Graduation day finally arrived. It had seemed like an eternity, both to Dave and to Tiffany. In the interim, they hadn't waited completely to "get started" on the "courtship," at least not on an emotional level. The physical level would have to wait.

They stole moments of sharing both deep thoughts and casual banter, getting to know one another more deeply -- all the while being careful not to seem like anything more than teacher and student to the naked eye.

Finally, it was time for the graduation ceremony. After the introductions and preliminaries, the audience stood and clapped while the graduating students filed in from the rear of the auditorium. Mr. Barry watched quietly as he stood in the front row below the podium.

He scanned the faces of the kids whose lives had crossed his over the past three years. It was a bittersweet feeling -- he was proud of their accomplishments, of the next steps they were taking toward their life's goals, but he would miss them, each and every one.

There was one of whom he was most proud. His eyes fixed on the girl at the head of the line, blonde hair cascading behind her as she walked, blue eyes sparkling. She looked like an angel, a heavenly vision. She cast a smiling glance in his direction as she made her way to the stage.

He sat down, mesmerized, as she took her place behind the podium to give the valedictory speech. The clapping stopped and the audience hushed to give Tiffany the opportunity to speak.

"Family and friends, fellow students, school staff -- and most of all, teachers," she began. She looked directly down at Dave as she said that last word, 'teachers.' "We are gathered here to celebrate. We celebrate not just an accomplishment, but one of life's passages."

"In a way, some of us are passing from childhood to adulthood. On this very night, we will become fully adult," she declared, grinning like the Cheshire cat and staring straight at Dave. He gulped and tugged at his collar, his cock once again stirring in his pants.

He listened and daydreamed as she continued her speech. She kept it short and sweet and finished up in less than ten minutes.

Her final words resonated in Dave's mind and heart: "And, in conclusion," she said, "a wise man once said to me that 'one must make some sacrifices to excel.' Those words apply not only to academics, but to all of life's endeavors. And they apply perhaps most of all to the most important endeavor -- human relationships. It takes more than 'chemistry' to succeed in a relationship -- though perhaps Chemistry is a great starting place!"

Dave couldn't help but smile. He knew that the double entendre in those words was meant for his ears only. As she watched his reaction, she knew that he knew. And she dared to blow him an air kiss, though the audience surely thought if was for the crowd in general.

After the ceremony, families gathered for pictures with the graduates. As Dave ambled by the Criswell family, Mrs. Criswell called him over. "Will you do us the honor, Mr. Barry?' she asked.

"Sure," replied Dave, "just tell me how your camera works, and I'll be glad to take a family photo."

"Oh, that's not what I meant, 'Mr. B.'," responded Mrs. Criswell, "I want to take your picture with Tiffany. After all, we need to mark this occasion with a record of the second most important man in our daughter's life."