Teaching Her a Lesson Pt. 12

Part Twelve: Additional Responsibilities As Assigned

"You stood me up yesterday."

It was Friday during the last passing period of the day, in between my senior English and prep period. All teachers were expected to conduct hall duty during these transitions, keeping an eye on the students and keeping them from dawdling overmuch. Most days, I skipped this obligation during this time and went right from Taylor's class into my prep, closing the door behind them and heaving a sigh of relief. Today, however, I was in a good mood. A comparatively easy week professionally thanks to Pixar, and indubitably the best week of my life personally. Sexually anyway. I had plenty of time to decide if there ought to be a distinction between the categories before I sat down to write my best-selling and very anonymous memoirs. I had pretty much floated out into the hallway after class, wishing my students a great weekend and high-fiving Patrice for her leadership in our discussion. It had been a fine note to end the week on. That young woman was going places.

Taylor, however, was not, at least not since I dismissed her class. She was lurking in the doorway of my classroom, speaking to me over my shoulder and frankly startling the crap out of me.

"I... oh, crap, you're right. I'm so sorry. I had some things to take care of after school," (where by "things" I meant "neighbors" and "take care of" I meant "fill them with cum,") "and I forgot all about it. Crud."

"Yeah. Cool. While you were out having fun, I got that stupid essay done. The one you said I cheated on." She thrust a stack of papers into my hand.

"Oh yeah? Well first, good on you. I'll look it over during seventh and we can talk about it after school. Second, really? No staple, nothing? And third, youdid cheat, so maybe lose the indignant act."

"You got a stapler." She brushed past me and went into the halls. I almost remembered before she rounded the corner that in the building, I wasn't allowed to stare at her ass, no matter how good it looked in those pink denim shorts.

The essay was an improvement, at least in that it hadn't been plagiarized. The assignment had been fairly broad. As I'd phrased it on the assignment sheet, they were to identify something that people often think about wrongly and explain why they're wrong and what they need to do differently. It was an exercise in critical consciousness, inviting them to channel their personal frustrations with an issue, attempt to understand why the world was the way it was, and look for ways to change it. It got all sorts of perspectives, from the usual cliché pro- and anti-choice diatribes, to local topics like the lopsided support for girls athletics, current events like defunding the police, and for a few, more risqué subjects like arming teachers. (Lucky for Oscar I graded his essay before I gained the benefit of all this anecdotal evidence to prejudice me further against letting people like me bring dangerous objects into the building.)

Taylor's first go had been something I'd seen dozens of times, a call to legalize marijuana. Like most of the others who'd picked the topic over the years, she'd doubtless assumed that forcing me to read it would be a satisfying opportunity to stick it to the man. Unlike the others, however, she'd let someone else do her thinking for her, and thus way lead onto way until we landed ourselves in this whole Serenex situation.

This time...

"Taylor, what in the flying hell is this." I threw her essay down on her desktop once she'd settled into place for our after school rendezvous.

"What? I thought you of all people would like it." She folded her arms smugly.

I tilted my head, reading her title aloud. "'Why teachers who fuck their students should be granted clemency.' Jesus, Taylor. I hardly know where to begin with this. Your lack of candor here... I'm at a loss! What if someone had seen you writing that?"

"Nobody did."

"Oh yeah? What if someone had walked up to the printer while you were printing? What if you got absorbed in what you were writing and someone snuck up on you, read over your shoulder. Then you brought it to class -- what if it had fallen out of your backpack, or... damnit, Taylor, all it would take is someone seeing that top line to blow the lid off everything!"

"Oh, come on. It doesn't even mention your name until the third paragraph. You're paranoid, C-dawg."

"As we both damn well should be!" Flabbergasted, I snatched the paper up again, but didn't know what to do with it. My fingers reflexively crumpled it a bit, then slapped it back down in front of her. "Poor judgment Do you mind explaining why you decided to write it in the first place? Even if I took the paper on its merit, you'd still get an F."

Her jaw dropped. "An F? What the fuck for?!"

"Language, Taylor. This is still my classroom. And why? You really have to ask why?" I ticked the reasons off on my fingers. "It's unsourced. It's vulgar. It's satirical. You had an audience of one and you set out to antagonize them!"

"Bullsh-- crap. How did I 'antagonize' you?"

"You compared me to Kevin Spacey!"

"No, I compared you to Kevin Spacey inAmerican Beauty. Where he fucks that flat-chested blonde bitch. That guy is awesome. Or he was, once he quit being such a little pussy. I would fuck that guy."

"Bad news for you, then. Kevin Spacey is gay, and I'm pretty sure he's living in a hole somewhere with his mother. And why do you even know that movie? That came out before you were born."

"You do know you're like eight years older than me, right? So if it was before I was born, you were what, five? Just switch on over from Blues Clues to watching some suburban dad get stoned and fuck cheerleaders?"

"A friend recommended it."

"And you recommended it to me. So I watched it."

The fact that it seemed to be the one course of action I'd ever proscribed that Taylor had listened to was something else, but I wasn't about to let her off the hook. "That still doesn't excuse this. For heaven's sake, Taylor, it's so graphic in places that it would be better categorized as erotica than essay!"

She frowned, flipping the page a couple times and scanning with a finger. "Was it this part? 'Watching him jizz all over my hoebag sister's boobs didn't seem to do her any damage, and might have even helped moisturize her ashy skin.' Is that what you were talking about?"

"That is indeed a part of what I'm talking about. I'm serious. What prompted this? I've been wracking my brain trying to understand you here, and I'm coming up with nothing."

"And how is this satire?" she pressed. "Why can't I be serious about this?"

"We're in a strange circumstance, yes, and while it seems to be working well for at least three of the four of us that appertain to your thesis -- you can judge your own plight for yourself -- I think it's fairly obvious that this sort of thing playing out all over every high school in the world would be a fairly bad development."

"Do as I say, not as I do, huh?"

The truth was, I was well aware that our situation was beyond problematic. Every time I began to feel guilty, though, I reminded myself that I had three hot teenage girls to fuck at my leisure, and only a complete pussy would turn down such a thing. And since I wasn't the one who'd affixed that macho perspective in my mind, and that macho perspective was the only thing keeping me going at it, I could hardly be to blame. I was a victim as much as they were.

"We're not going to debate the ethics of it. I didn't create these circumstances. If your point was to try to make me feel guilty, you failed before you started. Let's not forget that you were the one who started this by throwing yourself on my lap and trying to wrestle that chapstick away from me, remember? If I hadn't bought that Serenex to intervene, you would have been expelled!"

"For a guy who's been drugging and fucking three high school girls, one of their moms and two of his coworkers, you're pretty judgy, you know that?"

"How did you know I..." I stopped, rolling my eyes at falling for one of my own teacher tricks. So much for not having the lot of them know I'd added Megan into the mix. "Look, what I've done has nothing to do with what you did. Don't cloud the issue. If you're acting out for attention, so be it, but if there's a deeper motive behind it, I need to know that."

"Why?"

"Why? Because you're my student. Because you're involved in this whole mess with the Serenex. Because I... look. It doesn't--"

"No no, finish. Because you... what?"

"You're deflecting again. Answer me."

"Were you gonna say you care? That was it, wasn't it?" She adopted a mocking tone. "Was oo gonna show your big soft bewwy? Just say it. Admit you have a sick pervy crush on me and we can deal with it. It doesn't make you a pussy to admit you have feelings, you know."

"I do not 'have feelings' for you!"

"Oh yeah? Then how's come you had me over the first night you had open for an all-night fuckathon, while Abbie's been throwing herself at you with open legs and you ain't done shit?"

"Because..."

I wish I could say that it was the sound of the door opening that cut me short. Randi made her way in as surreptitiously as ever, maneuvering her cleaning cart toward my desk and emptying the wastebasket. Seeing I was with a student and that she seemed to be interrupting, she mumbled a hasty apology. "You want me to come back later to tidy up, Mr. Canon?"

I eyed Taylor, and she stared right back. "No, it's fine, Randy. It's a Friday in the spring -- I'm giving her the weekend off. Gotta save my energy, after all. I have her little sister in Saturday class tomorrow."

"Oh, Abbie? Have fun with that one," Randi said dryly, taking her vacuum down from the cart and unraveling the cord.

"Oh, how could I not." I smirked at Taylor's sullen glower. She snatched her paper off the desk and threw it at me before storming out, papers scattering everywhere. The custodian's head whipped around at the girl's unforeshadowed tantrum. Taylor was out the door before either of us could do more than sputter in disbelief. Knowing what was on those pages, I let her run, throwing myself into snatching them up before Randi could help.

"What got her hackles up? You'd think being let out early would merit a thank you, not a hissy fit," she muttered, shaking her head.

I glanced at the top page crumpled in my hand.I came. He came. I went home. We slept. Then we met again in sixth period and he gave me notes on bias in the media and twelve vocab words to make a study tool for. I did the study tool. He graded it. Then I went over to his house and we fucked some more. We came again. Why should the man do 20 years in prison for that? Twenty long years surrounded by murderers and rapists and pedophiles? We came.

Randi stepped aside, clearing me to toss it in the recycling bin, but I shook my head. "Not yet, for this one. Still needs some work."

For the first time in what felt like a very long time, I had a night all to myself. Not that I would have minded company -- that sort of company, at least -- but elsewhere, people were still people, Serenex or no. My friends knew that in April and May I was basically unreachable. The girls had their social lives, and Fridays at the end of their senior year were a precious thing. Some of mine, I still remembered. Megan was working her second job that evening, her last shift before she took the kids to visit her mother. (This I learned from Cassie, who expressed her anxiety at being so far away in case I needed to come in someone. I reassured her I'd make do.) Isa and Candy were living their lives, doing whatever they did. Our dinner and a threesome date was tomorrow, and I didn't want to disrespect their planning by rushing something a night early.

I did ask Isa for another topless video and for an update on her research on my Serenex. She told the whole story standing naked from the waist up in front of her bathroom mirror, phone in hand, reciting the details as stiffly as if she were reporting to a senior officer.

"Since you asked, and since I thought you might like it if I padded the run-time of this video, here's where we're at. In summary, our story remains safe but details aren't yet forthcoming. Since the canister's labeling makes dissembling more difficult, I sprayed a small amount into a plastic baggie, then sucked it out into a syringe. The syringe I brought to an acquaintance of mine in the analysis lab whose discretion I trust. I told her I'd found it in the back seat of a car in the school lot. Since it looked like drugs and the laws are pretty hard and fast about drugs on school property, I did a search, but nothing else in evidence. When I ran the plates, though, I found out the vehicle -- I told her it was in the visitor lot -- belonged to somebody from the state DoE, somebody with close personal ties to the governor. I implied nepotism without stating it outright, in case she got curious enough to look into it herself."

Isa tugged aggressively on one thick nipple, letting it snap back into place. It looked like it would never stop bouncing. "Since cases like that tend to end before they begin, I played it like I wanted to know exactly what I was dealing with before running it up the flagpole. To her mind, if it's nothing then I can forget I ever saw anything; if not, it's harder for the brass to dismiss a needle full of heroin than an unknown brown substance. So I asked her to run the whole battery on it -- 'you know all the weird stuff those rich pricks get into' -- and slipped him a few bucks for the troubles."

She wiggled back and forth as she finished. I really think she might be able to hypnotize a man with those suckers. "Official work comes before favors, even bribed favors, unfortunately, but I stressed the urgency, so hopefully we'll hear back soon. Could be a week, though, maybe more. Depends how busy the department is this weekend, probably. Anyway, I hope this makes you happy. Any times you need a pick-me-up from these tits, say the word. Also, as your security adviser, don't forget to delete this when you're done. It won't self-destruct, but it's a ticking time bomb of evidence against us if it's ever discovered." She blew a kiss and ended the recording.

I gave it a few re-watches with the sound off, then hit delete. With that, it was time to crack open a book and a beer and remember how to relax without my cock in something wet and warm. Three chapters and four beers later, I passed out, content with one hell of a week.

Ding-dong.

The bell rang twice before it actually woke me. My cell phone nearly blinded me as I checked the time. Almost midnight. I rolled my eyes and I grunted to my feet. "Cassie, it's way too late for--"

As I turned the lock, the door pushed open right in my face. I was still stumbling backward in alarm and confusion when the lips on the other side found mine. There was no telling who they belonged to, not at first. She held my face to hers in both hands, too close to see anything even if my eyes weren't still shaking off sleep. There was a potent taste of liquor in her mouth. And a tongue ring.

"Taylor?" I managed once I'd pushed her back for air. "Taylor, the door!" I swept around her and threw it shut. "What were you thinking? What are you even doing here?"

"Shut the fuck and up me," she said in a slurred voice. From how she was dressed, it was likely she had come from a party somewhere. Her hair had received some attention, more lift and less wavy and unkempt than usual. Her makeup was thicker than the norm, eyes dark and lips bright. The cloud of perfume around her almost obscured the smell of booze on her breath. Her outfit was a blue suede dress with faux fur trim (except where it would obscure one's view of her cleavage, naturally). The bodice was as clingy as the rest of her wardrobe. The skirt was short; the thighs pouring down from it long. Her boots came up only a few inches past her ankles, recognizing their obligation to show off as much of those glorious gams as possible.

"Whoa, calm down. Tell me what you're doing here, Taylor." She was swaying on her feet. I put my hands on her shoulders to steady her, which almost immediately became a restraint to stop her from kissing me again.

"I'm horny. You like fuckin' me so fuckin' much, so fuck me already," she whined, scratching at some itch on her upper thigh that flashed her panties at me. Solid black. My favorite. Though sometimes it felt like my favorite color panties were simply whatever she happened to be wearing.

"Do your parents know where you are? Does anyone?" I asked, guiding her to the sofa and sitting her down. Suspecting she wouldn't stay there long if I didn't join her, I took a seat, too.

She spurted a laugh that made me wipe some of it off my face. "Yeah right. 'Hey Mom and Dad, going to get wasted at Justin's house and then go fuck my sonofabitch English teacher, home by midnight.'" The girl snickered. "They don't care."

"How did you get here? You didn't drive in this condition, did you?"

She shook her head. "Marcus dropped me off next door. Told him Cassie and I had started hanging out. 'That Cassie Brown, she's not such a stupid bootlicking twat after all, ya know?'" Another laugh, this one harsher than Cassie's ego might have been able to take. "Figured I may as well, ya know, since we're probly gonna be over here all the time until this shit wears off and Abbie kills you."

I sighed. "She'll have to get in line."

"No shirt, shitlock. Err, whatever. I tried to get her to bet me whether Officer Barbie plants a bunch of drugs in your car or just kicks the front door down and shoots you, but she's all 'shut up, we're fantasy sluts,' blah blah."

"You were the one who put that in her head, you know, not me."

"Pffffff." Again, I wiped at my face. "Like you didn't fantasize about me before you ever touched that Snaren... Serel... stuff."

"Like you weren't working over-time to inspire those fantasies? Or do you expect me to believe that whole 'I have to go to the bathroom' stunt last semester was inadvertent?"

"I have no idea whatcher talkin' 'bout."

"The hell you don't. Remember, you'd already been to the bathroom, and you were gone for almost twenty minutes. Then you got back, got bored, and started whining to go again. When I said no, you did that little fake pee-pee dance at your desk for the rest of the period. You flashed me your panties probably a hundred times!"

She fell backwards, laughing hysterically. I was only glad I wasn't getting spit on this time. "Oh my god, I forgot about that! You should've seen your face. I've never seen a guy try not to stare so hard in my life! I can't believe you didn't say something."

"Right, nothing uncomfortable about acknowledging to a student's face that she'd been showing me her underwear for half the class. Certainly not the sort of thing you'd throw in my face and make a big accusation out of, right? I rearranged my whole classroom after that so you couldn't pull that stunt again."

"If I told somebody, I couldn't do it again!" Suddenly her hand was in my crotch, fumblingly fondling. "Now come on, C-dawg, fuckin' fuck me already!"

"Taylor, I'm not sure that's..."

But she wasn't waiting for excuses. She flipped herself over the armrest behind her, one foot on the floor, the other knee supporting her on the sofa cushion. Her skirt rode up to reveal most of her ass, though the view was momentary because then she flipped the thing up onto her back and tugged her panties down around her thighs. "Juss... fuck me!" she mumbled into the armrest.

God. Even drunk and slobbery and bitchy, she was still the hottest thing I'd ever seen. Weirdly, it took me back to my own high school days, thinking back to a small party (a gathering, really, but there had been alcohol so we'd called it a party). I'd had this huge crush on my friend Trent's newly single friend Julie Hiess. She'd been built a bit like Taylor, tall and busty, curves in all the right places. That night, she showed up drunk and started drinking. With some help from a friend I'd gotten her alone and we were hitting it off. I don't remember what we'd talked about, but I remembered it had made her laugh. Suddenly she kissed me. We made out for a while. She asked if I had a condom. I sprinted out of the room to find one, and by the time I came back, she'd passed right out. Later that week she started dating Trent. Last I'd heard, they were starting on their third kid, so... good for them, I guessed.