My Senior Year Ch. 12: Ms. Tebbit

Smack!

I saw it before I heard it. Ms Tebbit's arm moved with supersonic speed, her palm making contact with Viktor's cheek, striking such a blow that, in his surprise, he fell out of his chair.

Ms Tebbit had been chastising him for his poor attendance. Viktor was always getting into trouble for things like that. As the class clown, some might say it was his duty to get into trouble, but patience with him was wearing thin now that he was an adult. All the teachers wanted to make sure he passed his exams so they could get rid of him.

I had been walking down the corridor on my way to my next class when I heard their raised voices as I neared the open door of Ms Tebbit's classroom.

"Shut up, stupid ugly bitch cunt!" Viktor yelled in his thick Russian accent. He had a way with words. As a migrant, many people initially took pity on Viktor and attributed his coarseness to him still adjusting, but he'd been in the country for the better part of a decade by this time, and it was just how he was.

Standing in the doorway, I watched as Ms Tebbit gave Viktor the slap of his life. Shocked at her own actions, Ms Tebbit recoiled, her eyes widening in fear when she saw me standing in the doorway. There had been a witness. She dismissed Viktor and he scrambled to his feet, exiting with his tail between his legs.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Ms Tebbit said to me.

"It sounds like he deserved it."

"Do you think he'll say anything?"

"I doubt it. He's too proud. He'll say he got into a fight with a seven-foot weightlifter before he admits a woman got the better of him."

"What about you? You saw it."

"As I said, he had it coming. But maybe I'll call in a favour sometime," I joked.

"Thanks." She sounded relieved and gave me a rare smile.

Ms Tebbit was head of the history faculty, but she also taught my small advanced history class. The class was so small that they scheduled it an hour before regular classes, and by the middle of my senior year there were only three students left, including myself. Although she was an unpopular teacher, I had always had a soft spot for Ms Tebbit on account of her sharp wit and sharper tongue. I wouldn't say she was strict exactly, but she could be as fierce as a dragon and did not suffer fools, gladly or otherwise. As a teacher, she knew her subject well, and was always supportive of students who made a genuine effort.

If Ms Tebbit had a favourite student, I suspected it was me. We got on well in class, although she was somewhat of an enigma compared to other teachers. She never ventured much about her personal life. I guessed that she was in her late-40s or maybe in her 50s, an impression that was reinforced by her short dark hair, glasses, unflattering cardigans, and thin lips that seemed to almost never smile, despite her acerbic sense of humour. She may have been divorced or widowed because she only ever mentioned living with her cats.

Since I witnessed her assaulting Viktor, I'd been thinking about what kind of favour I could ask of Ms Tebbit. At the time I'd merely meant it as a joke, but the more I thought about it, the more I wondered whether I could turn it to my advantage. There was no point asking her to give me a better grade, because she wouldn't be marking my final exam. Even if she was, that was a bit unimaginative and I was more than capable of doing well on my own. If I'd done something to get myself in trouble, I guess I could have leveraged the incident, but so far I'd been quite lucky in that regard. Senior students already had significant privileges, so there wasn't much point trying to bargain for anything.

The penultimate day of classes before senior students went on study break was a particularly cold and wet Thursday morning, and I arrived to find Ms Tebbit alone in her classroom.

"Morning, Ms Tebbit," I mumbled. "Nice day for it."

"It is, isn't it?" she replied, sipping her tea, her face impassive.

I took my seat and started unpacking my books and pens quietly, while Ms Tebbit sat at her desk reading the morning newspaper. The clock ticked down to eight o'clock and the bell rang. The others hadn't arrived, so we waited in silence for a couple of minutes. "Let's give them a little longer," Ms Tebbit said over the top of her newspaper. "Maybe their bus is running late because of the rain."

Mike and Pete were more likely to be snoozing in their warm beds than sitting on a cold bus worrying about getting to class, but I kept that thought to myself and instead tried to think about whether there was anything I could ask from Ms Tebbit, given there were just two days of class left. It seemed a wasteful not to take advantage of this opportunity.

A thought popped into my head and I chuckled involuntarily. Ms Tebbit lowered her newspaper and examined be through her glasses, but I wasn't about to share and she raised the newspaper again, shaking her head.

Could it be that simple? Ms Tebbit wasn't ugly, but she wasn't exactly attractive either. Perhaps if she had longer hair or wore more flattering clothes things would have been different. On the other hand, female teachers didn't have to do much to be alluring to their male students. I once tugged myself off thinking about the frumpy red-faced farm teacher, Ms "Old" McDonald, simply because I'd seen the top of her pink panties sticking out of her skirt during class. Afterwards I felt a little strange, but the reality was that if Ms McDonald offered herself to me I wouldn't turn her down. And Ms Tebbit had at least maintained a slim figure. Maybe it was that simple after all.

It looked like the others were no-shows. I stood and looked out into the corridor. There was no one in sight, so I closed the door.

"Good thinking," Ms Tebbit said from behind her newspaper. "No point letting the hot air out anymore."

I walked to the front of the room on the pretence of standing by the heater and watched Ms Tebbit as she read. This was it. I'd done it before, but this was a bit different to Ms O'Morin. I'd seen what Ms Tebbit was capable of.

My hands were nice and warm as I stood behind Ms Tebbit and, in one smooth motion, reached over her shoulders and groped her modest breasts over her green cardigan. There was silence before Ms Tebbit spoke. "What the hell do you think you're doing!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Let go!"

"I want to say a proper goodbye."

"Get your hands off me now."

Ms Tebbit hadn't moved, but I could sense her fury. I did as I was told. She folded her newspaper deliberately and put it on her desk, then turned in her seat to look at me.

"Just what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I'd call in that favour," I said with a sly smirk. "Remember?"

Ms Tebbit clearly did remember, I could see it on her face. "I didn't think you were serious."

"I wasn't then, but I am now."

"What is it you want, exactly?"

"Lock the door and close the blinds. Then we'll talk."

With a look of resignation, Ms Tebbit did as I asked, then returned to her seat. "So."

"I want to be clear, Ms Tebbit, that whatever happens, you have my respect."

"Respect? That's what you call groping me?"

"It's nothing personal." Ms Tebbit raised a narrow eyebrow in response, and I continued. "Suppose we were to continue our lesson now. Am I incapable of listening to you? Is it impossible for us to share a joke? Can I not enjoy your class? My gratification has nothing to do with how I feel about you as a person."

"I wonder if a rapist has ever used that line."

I laughed. "Okay, I shouldn't have touched you without permission. But you shouldn't have hit Viktor without his permission either. Two wrongs don't make a right, but if you tell, I tell — and you've got further to fall."

"So it's blackmail?"

I shook my head. "I see it as a choice. You can buy my silence or not."

"That sounds like blackmail."

"Consider it atonement for what you did to Viktor."

"I must say, this is a side of you I've not seen before. I'm not sure I like this ... this ... moral vigilantism." She paused, waiting for my response, but I said nothing. "I don't think it's much of a choice, but I suppose I have to choose your silence. What is it you want from me?"

"Let's talk."

"Talk?"

"Are you married?"

"No."

"Never?"

"No."

"You've had sex though?"

"Once or twice."

I grinned at her sarcasm. "With men or women?"

"Men."

"Only?"

"I hope you're not inferring anything from my haircut."

"How old are you?"

"Old enough."

"You don't like talking about yourself, do you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Ms Tebbit drew a long breath. "People rarely ask. I've lived a mostly solitary existence as a result. You get used to keeping quiet about yourself. I'm sorry if that's disappointing."

"Have you ever slept with a student?"

"No."

"Have you ever fantasised about a student?"

Ms Tebbit pursed her lips and paused. "I'm only human," she confessed.

"Who's your favourite student?"

"I thought that was obvious."

"Me?"

Ms Tebbit. "At least until now."

"Why me?"

"You're clever, well-read, generally well-behaved, and you understand my sense of humour."

"Gee, I hope you're not going to say you love me."

Ms Tebbit couldn't help herself and gave a brief chortle. "I have to draw lines somewhere."

"Have you ever fantasised about me?"

Ms Tebbit stared at me, her lips again pursed. "Okay, fine, yes," she admitted at last, looking away.

I liked watching her squirm. I'd recently come to learn something about myself. There was a certain pleasure I derived from making people do something "naughty", for want of a better word. As Ms Tebbit confessed her inner thoughts, sordid though they seemed to her, I realised that I'd never really talked with any of the women with whom I'd been intimate. Not properly, anyway. Not about how they felt.

I'm sure I must come across as psychopathic, but I enjoyed Ms Tebbit's discomfort. What she was saying was interesting to me, but what was more interesting was how she felt about what she was saying. Under duress she was revealing her innermost and was clearly embarrassed about what she was saying. I liked that she was embarrassed, but she didn't need to be. I wasn't judging her. Nothing she'd said had made me respect her any less. Did she expect to be judged?

"Why are you embarrassed?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't feel any differently about you than when I walked in this morning."

"You don't?"

"No."

"You're unique." Ms Tebbit sighed. "Some things we are expected to keep to ourselves. I suppose if other people expect you to keep secrets about yourself, you don't question why you are keeping them. Why do you wear clothes?"

"Them's the rules."

"And everyone is expected to obey the rules. Are you ashamed of your body?"

"Not particularly."

"But you'd be embarrassed to be walking around naked. Why?"

"People might judge me."

"Then you understand."

"But I've been naked around other people who haven't judged me."

"Not everyone is the same."

I pondered this for a moment before speaking again. "I think I like making people break those kinds of taboos."

"Oh?"

"Nothing you told me is unusual. There are things that we wouldn't normally do or say, right? You wouldn't normally open up to a student like that."

"No, I wouldn't."

"But I don't care. I'm not going to tell anyone. And I'm not going to judge you, either."

"You like to watch people beat themselves up emotionally?"

"Is that so wrong?"

Ms Tebbit said nothing, but sipped her tea thoughtfully. When she eventually spoke, her words came slowly. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. That's a complex fetish. There might be a philosophy in there too."

I will never forget this conversation with Ms Tebbit. There had never really been anyone for me to talk to about my developing sexuality, and I had been flying solo for some time. Although still finding my feet sexually, our chat was one of my more formative experiences, and it felt like I had reached a higher plane of sexual awareness, where the physical act had an added dimension. I cast my mind back to a few of my previous experiences and understood the role that others' self-degradation had played in them. Later I realised how my conversation with Ms Tebbit shaped my future experiences, and even though I didn't seek to put women in such positions, I embraced the opportunity to do so whenever it arose.

In that moment, however, I didn't have time to reflect.

"Would you ever prostitute yourself?"

"I never say never, but I would need to be quite desperate."

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Supposing someone offered you money to sleep with you? Why wouldn't you take it?"

"I wouldn't enjoy it."

"What difference does it make? It's a transaction. Most people seem to hate their job, but they do it anyway."

"You're too clever for your own good. It's not that simple. We — humans — are more complicated than that."

"The human condition seems to mostly be our own fault."

"That may be so."

There was another lull before I spoke again. "I guess the question now is what you would do to earn my silence."

"Ah. We're back there. I was hoping you'd forgotten."

I rested my palms on the back of Ms Tebbit's chair. She turned her head and looked at me pleadingly. "That's what you want?" Her voice trembled slightly.

I nodded. She turned her head, eyes front. For the second time that morning, I stretched my arms and put my hands on her breasts. There were no words of protest this time. I squeezed her soft bumps, but there were too many layers for my liking. "That'll have to come off."

Ms Tebbit stood and turned to face me. "I'm old enough to be your mother."

"I've heard that one before."

"How very Freudian."

"Uh-uh, no stalling. Off."

Ms Tebbit caved and removed her cardigan. Underneath she was wearing a white blouse. "That too," I said.

Slowly, Ms Tebbit began to unbutton her blouse. I looked at my watch. There was still enough time. I pulled her blouse open and saw the white lace bra underneath. "Sit," I said, patting the desk behind her. She did as she was told. I walked behind her and pulled her blouse off.

"I don't know why men are fixated with breasts," Ms Tebbit remarked. "They're just lumps of fat."

"We don't have them ourselves."

With her blouse out of the way, I reached forward to unclasp her bra. Ms Tebbit arched her back at the touch of my hands, but the clasp came apart easily and her bra fell forward into her lap. I looked over her shoulder. Her breasts were a comfortable handful each, and sagged a little, no more than usual for a woman of her age. Reaching over, I cupped her bare flesh and squeezed gently. Her skin was surprisingly soft and smooth.

Using my thumbs, I massaged Ms Tebbit's nipples. Brief, involuntary moans escaped her lips as I felt her nipples stiffen. I released her and walked around the desk until we were again face-to-face. I sat in her chair and pulled it in close to her, leaning my head forward and taking one of her erect chocolate-brown nipples between my lips.

"There's definitely something Freudian about —"

Her sentence was cut off with a short gasp as I began to suck on her nipple, teasing it with the tip of my tongue. My hand cupped her breast, caressing it.

"Oh my," she wheezed.

I moved my attention to her other breast, giving it the same treatment. Ms Tebbit seemed to instinctively cradle my head in her hand. My free arm reached around her back, playing with her other breast. Ms Tebbit couldn't help moaning gently as I groped and sucked her tits.

Satisfied so far, I let her nipple out of my mouth and pulled her to her feet. "How are you feeling?" I asked.

"What do you want me to say? That I enjoyed it, or that I feel degraded?"

"The truth will do."

"The truth is complicated."

"Try me."

"It'd be impossible not to feel at least a little aroused. Physical stimulation is difficult to ignore, and there's breaking the taboo of being with a student, and the age gap."

"But?"

"I do feel exploited. Whatever you may say, this isn't exactly consensual."

"How do you figure?"

Ms Tebbit looked over the top of her glasses. "You don't see it?"

"I could put two and two together, but I want to hear you say it."

"It doesn't seem right to take advantage of me like this. You haven't given me much of a choice."

"Would the right thing be to report you for assaulting a student?"

Ms Tebbit pursed her lips again. "I suppose this is the lesser of two evils," she conceded. "It's still humiliating. I do feel degraded."

"I'm the only one here, and I don't see you any differently."

Ms Tebbit sighed. "I know. You said this isn't about disrespecting me. But what about respect for how I feel?"

"How you feel is entirely in your head. There's no audience jeering. This is just between us."

As Ms Tebbit thought about this, I turned her around so her back was to me. "Now, let me see your knickers."

I pushed Ms Tebbit by her upper back. She was tense and initially refused to budge, but soon she was leaning over the desk. I grabbed her left knee and lifted it up, placing it on the desk. I was surprised to find I liked the texture of her black nylon stockings beneath my fingers. "Show me."

Ms Tebbit reluctantly bunched her skirt up around her waist, revealing her bony buttocks and green cotton panties. I observed how her black stockings gave way to her tanned thighs, then rushed forward eagerly. Putting my hand between her legs, I ran my fingers along the gusset of her panties, applying a small amount of pressure and massaging her slit beneath.

She gasped as I gently toyed her snatch through the fabric. Her gusset was damp to my touch. I pushed it aside and slid my finger along her bare labia, eliciting a whimper from Ms Tebbit. I touched my wet finger to my lips and breathed in. "You smell good, Ms Tebbit." I sucked my finger clean. "And taste good too."

I returned my hand to between her legs and pushed a finger past her gusset, parting her labia and pushing it in as far as it would go. Ms Tebbit let out a deep groan in response. I began to slide my finger in and out of her. Her wheeze breath trembled as I fingered her. With my free hand, I unzipped my trousers and fumbled with my belt. Ms Tebbit's ears pricked up at the sound.

"Please," she gasped. "Please don't."

"Please don't what?"

"Please, I can't —"

I stopped fingering her and put my hand on her shoulder. She was tense. "Just say you want me to go to Principal Benson and tell him what you did to Viktor."

"I can't —"

"Then this is your choice. You might as well try to enjoy it."

Ms Tebbit said nothing, but I felt her muscles relax under my fingers. In that instant I felt bad, but a different kind of bad. Up until now, Ms Tebbit hadn't really objected. Not properly. I had her backed into a corner, but I felt justified. After all, she shouldn't have hit a student. Even though I didn't actually want to turn her in, I didn't see much wrong with there being a consequence to her actions. I felt bad though, because I wanted Ms Tebbit to give in and accept it. I wanted her to want it. I wanted the conquest.

I extricated my hand from between her legs and walked to the other side of the desk. Ms Tebbit had tears in her eyes. I took her chin in my hand and tilted her head to look at me.

"What's up?"

"We can't do this. I can't do this."

"Why not?"

"I'm your teacher. I can't sleep with a student."

"What if you weren't?"

"I couldn't answer —"

"Did you like having your nipples sucked?"

"I —"

"Yes or no?"

"Yes."

"Did you like having my finger inside you?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to fuck you, Ms Tebbit, and then everything's going to go back to normal. Okay?"

Ms Tebbit nodded. "Okay."

Her last defence was broken. I let my trousers drop to the floor. Ms Tebbit's eyes widened as I released my stiff member from my briefs, pre-cum dripping from the tip.