An Unlikely Encounter Ch. 02

"I…" my voice trailed off.

Autumn looked back up at the clock. "Come on!" she prodded, stepping up to the front of my desk. "I don't want to stop," she lowered her voice. "It was… It was even better than I thought." It was almost a whisper, and she lowered her eyes, a sudden show of timidity.

Christ! I was filled with fear and sheer flattery.

"Okay?" she prompted again.

"Yeah- uh- okay, okay." I scribbled down my personal email handle on a piece of paper and handed it to her. Did I just fucking *do* that?

"Thanks!" she suddenly brightened up. "Don't worry, I promise no more emails. To your work, I mean!"

"Good. That's… good."

She took a step back. "Was there anything else?"

What the hell do I even say? 'By the way, the sex was astonishing. Make sure you keep it under your hat?' "Not at the moment."

"Hmm, okay," she turned and started towards the door. "By the way," she paused, "I saw you kept looking at me funny. Did I do something, like, wrong?"

"No. Uh- I just noticed your… shirt. It isn't your usual style." Oh come on. That was lame. Now she knows I pay attention to what she wears.

She gave me a sarcastic smile. "There's more than one side to me, you know. I'm not a one-trick pony."

"I didn't mean that…"

"Anyways," she practically winked at me, "Thanks for noticing!" And with that, she left me alone in the classroom.

IV

Why did I give her my real email address? Why couldn't I have come up with some fake one? Or made up one last night? I must have known this was coming… I didn't want to admit to myself that, yes, of course I knew this had to be coming. 'Cause that would mean I was just waiting to give her my email. It was so stupid. The last thing I needed was a documented record of me talking to her. What the fuck would happen if someone saw? God, maybe I should just never log into it again…

Of course, I could say that all I wanted. I could say anything, but it wouldn't stop the fact that the first fuckin' thing I did when I got in the door was go right to my computer. Just to see if she emailed me. Maybe she's bluffing. Maybe she will think I gave her a fake. I signed in and scanned my messages. There was nothing from her. Huge sigh.

I sat there, looking at my screen, rubbing the back of my neck. I was relieved, but it was still early. For all I knew, she wasn't even home yet. There was still time. What would she send? More pictures? Just text? The more I thought about it, the more I feared I was looking forward to it…

I logged off my computer for about all of ten minutes before I got back on to check again. This is pathetic. I didn't care. I left my email up in the background and decided to get some work done. An hour or so went by when I saw the little popup for a new message. My heart leapt and I actually tossed the computer mouse across the table in my excitement. It was just something from my credit card company. Fuck!

I was flat-out expecting something from her. There was no denying it. I was loath to admit my disappointment that the last delivery wasn't from her. But as the evening went on, still no message came. Eventually I got hungry and decided I needed to make some dinner. Before I left the room, I cranked my computer speakers way up… Just in case I got an email; I'd hear the ding in the kitchen. God, this is embarrassing.

I debated making a really nice dinner, just so I'd have something to do. Something to occupy my mind. But my appetite was lacking and I didn't want to waste the food, so I just threw something easy together. I was just about to sit down when I was startled by my computer blaring an alarm. Motionless… I was suddenly filled with anxiety. Is it her? Is it garbage? I sped back into my office absurdly quickly.

An enormous lump formed in my throat. Here it is. It's from her. I eagerly opened it up and scanned the message. The first thing I noticed was that there were no attachments, no pictures. My relief mingled with regret. Then I read.

'Well here I am emailing you… I hope this is your real address. I don't think you'd lie to me? That wouldn't be very teacher-ish ;)'

Right. Because I've definitely been an exemplary model of the ethical teacher.

'Write back so I know I have the right email…'

I drummed my fingers on the table. Of course I was going to reply. I mean, think how upset she would be if I didn't? She might think I lied to her. Or that I'm ignoring her. I can't have her pissed off. Never mind that I *want* to talk to her…

I hit the 'Reply' button, but then stopped myself. Don't seem anxious. I closed the window and walked dazedly into the kitchen. I'd eat first. Then I'd reply. But what to say…

My mind turned as I sat in front of my dinner, absently forking food into my mouth. It didn't taste like much, and I found myself eating slower and slower. Not like I had any real appetite at this point anyway. A hundred little movies played in my mind of all the things that could go wrong if I emailed her back, and if I didn't, and the different things that I could say. It was like all the reels in my imagination were in fast-forward, all playing at the same time. Some of them were good though. The ones I *really* shouldn't be considering.

Back at my desk. I had to get it over with. 'Well here I am emailing you back. Looks like the address is correct!' Okay then. Short, to the point, somewhat light-hearted… Stop overanalyzing! I closed my eyes and hit 'Send'.

"I need a drink," I mumbled to myself, realizing my throat was completely dry. I stood up and shook my body, trying to loosen up. I was both stiff from the anxiety and trembling from the excitement. I hoped I wasn't making the biggest mistake in my life. Besides fucking her at least.

I dug through the fridge and managed to find a beer in the back. It was quickly opened and I almost found myself chugging it. Slow down, cowboy. Was I trying to calm my nerves, or loosen up? Probably both. I flipped on the TV to distract myself. It didn't help much. Within twenty minutes I was back, eagerly checking my email. Nothing yet.

I idly wondered if she would check for my response. It seemed like she would… But maybe she wouldn't reply tonight? I didn't really know. I fell back into doing some work online and tried not to think about it too much. In spite of this, I couldn't contain an involuntary, 'Finally!' when I noticed a new email from her pop up.

'Yay! I hope we can finally talk, even if it has to be on the other side of a computer screen. Sooo… Where to begin? We could talk about school if you want. You can tell me what you REALLY think about my paper! Or we can talk about other things too…'

The mail trailed on for a bit longer, with her being fairly innocent and only using a little innuendo. This helped relax my guard. I was relieved that she didn't just jump into talking about our… previous history. I hit the 'Reply' button immediately and began to respond. I reckoned I didn't have to hit 'Send' right away… But at least I could get some words down so I wouldn't be completely obsessed with thinking about what to say.

'Well, I'm not sure what to talk about either. I've written comments on your paper; you know I feel your prose and syntax is impressive. Had you written about something a little different, I would have loved to share it with the class and some of the other teachers…'

I thought about this for a moment and struck out that last line. That sounded like I was baiting her to get into a conversation about it. That wouldn't be a great idea.

'I'm happy to see you've taken a personal interest in improving your writing…'

I continued on in a fairly neutral, 'teacher' tone. I wasn't sure exactly what she was hoping to get out of this correspondence. It seemed obvious that she was going to pry about the sex, and who the hell knows what else. But I wasn't going to just dive into it. I had to test the waters, force her to make the first move. Then how will I react? I shuddered and shook my head. Without thinking, I sent the email only a minute after I finished writing it. Shit! Now she's going to know I was sitting here, waiting for her!

That was it. I shut off my computer, walked outside the room, and closed the door behind me. Just leave it the fuck alone.

Somehow I managed to stay away for the rest of the night. I still thought about her though. Not just the emails, but everything. I was filled with the (now usual) urge to be able to see her. Wanting to see the picture she emailed me, but afraid to get back online, I settled for the page out of the yearbook stuffed under the bed. This is ridiculous. Why can't I stop?

It was another long night.

The next morning, I checked my email before even getting in the shower. She had replied fairly soon after I sent my email.

'Lame! You can talk to me with all your teacher comments all you want in class. We can email alone, so be real with me :P I want to know seriously what you thought about it. Not just the grammar, but everything. I thought you'd like talking about this- you do love writing, right? Otherwise we can talk about something else. It isn't like you've never been honest before… Remember our little phone conversation? Anyway, how about my picture that I sent? What did you think of that…'

My mouth dried out as I read on. I could feel her disappointment in her words, but also a kind of stern resolve. I guess she knew what she wanted, and she sure as shit wasn't going to back down. I practically staggered away from the computer and into my bathroom to start a shower. For probably fifteen minutes I just stood in there, feeling the water pour over me, lost in thought.

How was class going to go now? Would she really not let on? How can she seem so shy sometimes, but so self-assured at others? I mean, I'm her fucking teacher! And she thinks she can get away with talking to me so casually. So flippantly. Although her strong will is kind of a turn-on…

I'm not sure at what point I got hard, but my hand brushed against my erection and reminded me how badly I needed some relief. I toyed with the idea of going without, just to beat my lust. That was a dumb idea though… So instead I tried to think about anything but her. My girlfriend. Old girlfriends. Famous people. Nothing worked. Big surprise. Barely took any time once I gave in and just imagined Autumn. Her penetrating gaze. Her young body. Her eyes clenched shut. The sound of her panting…

It was another guilty, great orgasm.

In class the next day, she was dressed very… flirty? A summer skirt that didn't quite come to her knees and a tank-top that hugged her tummy and exposed a lot of back. She wore light colors that contrasted nicely against her skin. But I knew she wasn't pleased, that she was trying to get back at me. For one, she never looked at me. Not once. (Never mind that I would have been looking at her constantly to notice this…). On top of that, she was all smiles and giggles. With everyone else in the class.

Now, this is a very 'teenage' way to get back at someone. I'm not really sure how I felt about it, to be honest. In a way, I was actually glad for the lack of attention. But there was something gnawing deep inside me that didn't like it. At first, I figured I was just nervous about upsetting her, thinking she might do something stupid and, well, ruin me. But I didn't really believe that was the case. So what was it? Am I actually jealous that she isn't focusing on me…?

I did my best to disregard those thoughts for the rest of the afternoon. But as I drove home, I wrestled with the 'email problem'. Do I reply as soon as I get back? Do I wait until the evening? Exactly how will I respond to her? Maybe it occurred to me that I wasn't even considering not replying. Oh well.

I ended up writing back fairly soon, if for no other reason than to just get it over with. And this time, I wasn't going to bullshit.

'My intent wasn't to upset you. You're an intelligent girl; you must realize how awkward a position you're putting me in. So forgive me if I'm not quite sure how to navigate these conversations. And your story. What exactly did you want to know? The truth is I found it incredibly uncomfortable that you can so easily paint a vivid picture of our 'encounters'. Not uncomfortable because of your talent in writing, but because these situations are extremely dangerous. Obviously the memories are exceptionally clear in my mind. Reading your work only reinforced those images and even filled in some blanks from… the *female's* perspective. On that note, as to your question about the picture you sent, I'm confident I won't need any additional aid to ever remember last Sunday. Am I to expect a new submission from you detailing that? Then again, a picture is worth a thousand words. Perhaps that was enough?'

I read over the email once. Well, good as anything, I guess. Hopefully I maintained some kind of authority over her, despite any tacit admissions hidden in the message. But again, who was I trying to fool by this point? It wasn't like my attraction to her was a secret anymore. Not between the two of us anyway.

I clicked 'Send'.

A minute later, my cell phone rang. Jesus! I scrambled to dig it out of my pocket, thinking for sure that it was her. Like she was just waiting for me to email her. I finally looked at the screen and shook my head. Of course. I'm an idiot. It was Heather.

I sighed and answered the phone as casually as possible. Dinner? Sure, sounds nice. She wanted a break for the evening and decided to swing by my place. She'd pick up some food on the way. I wandered into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. How can I even look at her straight? I can't tell her. No matter what I say, it can't be the truth.

I think I actually managed to act fairly normally once she arrived. I suppressed my guilt as far as I could. We ate, talked, watched some TV, relaxed. A couple hours into the evening, she got up to use the restroom. My pulse quickened as I knew I had a minute to myself. I slunk into the office and quickly logged onto my email.

There she was.

'I didn't mean to come off all catty in my last email. I thought you were mad at me, and that's why you didn't reply? I was looking forward to talking to you more. Maybe tonight will be different? Like I said, nobody will know. I didn't tell anyone today, did I? Or the day before, or the day before. Trust me :) Anyways… about you being "uncomfortable"… Why is that? Is it just because I'm your student…?'

There was more to the message, but I heard Heather coming back out and I just skimmed the rest real fast before closing the window. She went on a bit more about her writing, that she was glad that I liked it, and especially pleased that it had an effect on me. She even snuck in the hint that my "discomfort" was more physical than emotional. I almost smiled at that. She's good for her age…

Then I wiped that fucking look off my face. What the fuck? I can't believe I'm thinking about this with my own girlfriend in the next room. I shoved the thoughts to the back of my mind and went back to go meet with her. My guilt was mostly overshadowed by my impatience. What I really wanted to do was be alone. I needed to email her back.

Addicted. Face it, man. You're screwed.

V

Heather left fairly late, but I still emailed Autumn back. I couldn't help it. I read her message again… This time with the picture she had sent me opened up in the background. The longer I sat there, the more turned on I got. I tried to keep my tone fairly neutral and authoritative… But I'm afraid I allowed myself to come off a little softer, a little more receptive.

By the time I hit 'Send', I was so hopped up on the anxiety and excitement of it all that I could barely keep still. I maximized the picture and just found myself with my hand down my pants, completely unable to help myself. Jesus, I ought to at least get some fuckin' tissue… But my eyes were glued to the screen. I couldn't believe what I was doing; I kept getting more and more lost. Before I knew it, I was soaking my boxers with my own cum.

My eyes gave way and closed as I leaned my head back into the chair. As my body relaxed, my emotions resurfaced. With the sense of primal urgency gone, I immediately regretted how loose I was in my email. Why did I let myself get carried away? I closed the image on the screen and waited for about an hour, cursing myself and wondering if she was going to write back that night.

She didn't.

As I got ready for bed, I began to panic that maybe I went too far, or maybe she was sitting out there somewhere laughing at my emails, getting ready to show them to her friends… I tried to disregard my fretful thoughts. It's late. She probably doesn't stay up on the computer all night. She wouldn't even have expected me to write back again… probably…

The next morning, my questions were answered. I had left my computer on until I was just about to leave for work. Just in case she checked in the morning. Apparently she did:

'Hi! I totally didn't think you'd write back so late! I am about to leave for school, but I wanted you to know I will reply to everything tonight! *And* I will make sure to stay up later this time :)… See you soon!'

My heart sunk and swelled at the same time. Sunk because I was letting myself get dragged in deeper. Swelled because she emailed me back and I knew she was still interested… Sunk because her reply was so brief… My heart isn't the only thing swelling…

That's how it went for the rest of the week. She continued to play it completely cool while in the classroom. I was frankly impressed that she was able to resist trying to flirt with me or get some kind of reaction out of me. She wasn't ignoring me… But there was just this… unspoken communication between us. She was honoring the secret. And each day that went by made me feel that much more confident that nobody would ever know.

And I guess that's why I kept emailing her. Longer emails. More detailed, more flirtatious. And she sure as hell returned in kind. By the end of the week, I was staying up until 1:00… 2:00am. It didn't feel like I was staying up late. I was just writing. And reading. And fuck me, but this girl was interesting. The way she talked about writing, and how our "relationship" inspired her to really try harder, and how it has made her feel… It was intoxicating. And, let's face it; I didn't mind this beautiful young girl being so seemingly infatuated with me either.

Or the pictures. God. The pictures. Every once in awhile she'd send me another photo of herself. Nothing really racy, usually just her smiling, or her sitting on her bed with the laptop next to her. Things she'd take at the spur of the moment while waiting for an email from me. My favorite so far was one of her sitting cross-legged on some pillows.