His Nasty Little Pussy

In the corridor, Gemma said, “He was chatting you up. Couldn’t you see that? He’s chatting you up and almost as much as asks you on a date and all you can say is ‘cool’?” She rolled her eyes again and flounced off ahead of her mother.

“Hey you,” said Karen. “We’ve got one more. You don’t get off that lightly.”

“Oh, Mum, I told you, didn’t I? Don’t you remember what I told you? I’m meeting Lucy and them, and I’ll see you in the car after Willy Wilson. I told you that’s what I’m doing, Mum.”

Before Karen even had time to protest, Gemma had turned and vanished out of a side door. Karen hesitated, on the point of going after her, then stopped herself.

She had the appointment letter in her hand. One left to do. Mr Wilson for English. Skipping that would be wrong, like bunking off a lesson.

It was the school thing again, she realized. Something about being in school made her feel tiny, fearful of the consequences if she didn’t do as the letter dictated.

She checked the room number and headed back past Mr Parkes’ room to the English department. There was a family she didn’t recognize with Mr. Wilson: a tired-looking woman bouncing a toddler on her knee and struggling to keep an eye on another small child who was crawling under the desks; with her was a grey-haired man who must be the father and a surly-looking teenaged boy who sat rocking back and forth in a plastic chair.

Mr Wilson looked even more tired than the woman. He was skinny and hunched over the desk with his hands steepled before him. He had thinning, dark hair and a wide mouth and Karen almost looked away but was suddenly transfixed by his eyes as he glanced across towards the door where she waited. They were a deep hazel and there was passion in there, something intense.

Karen had always been an eyes person. She believed you could tell a lot from someone’s eyes: a single look could transform otherwise nondescript features and that was exactly what happened in that instant of eye contact before Mr Wilson returned his attention to the fractious family he was seeing before Karen.

She turned away and stood looking out of a window, across the parking area to where a group of teenagers had gathered around the school gates. Gemma would be among them, she was sure, although she couldn’t pick her out.

She heard the door open, and then a small child came barrelling out of the classroom, followed by the rest of his family.

Karen stepped back to let them pass, then went to stand in the doorway.

Mr Wilson was leaning back in his chair.

“Well that looked like hard work,” she said, as she closed the door behind her.

“I, erm, whatever,” he said. “Can’t say.” He glanced down at a printout on his desk.

“Gemma’s mum,” said Karen, moving to sit at the chair across from him. “Am I the last of the day?”

He smiled at that, and his smile had the same effect as that look in his eye, transforming his face.

She should stop this now, this idle fantasizing. It was that schoolteacher thing: Mr Valentine in the darkroom all over again. Was that an accurate memory? Holly’s story of kissing him, of the way his hands had wandered over her body, and his cock had been hard against her.

Or was it just a fantasy? Something Karen had made up to keep herself amused?

Her mind was drifting again. Mr Wilson had been talking and she hadn’t taken a word in.

He paused, staring at her pointedly. It must have been obvious that her attention had wandered and now he was pissed off with her: end of a long day and he gets the daydreaming mum who keeps making him repeat himself.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s been a long day. For both of us. You must be exhausted.”

That broke through the irritability, and he smiled again. “Shit, yes,” he said. “Long, long day. And here I am at the end of it, running late, talking rubbish, and boring the pants off you.”

She raised an eyebrow, and he looked away, embarrassed. “I mean… Well, it’s been a long day.”

“So,” Karen said, “shall we cut to the chase?” She paused, waiting for him to nod for her to continue. “I’ve already spoken to Mrs Carter, Mr Parkes, Ms Malik, and two others whose names have already escaped me. I’ve read the reports. I even talk to my daughter. She’s a straight-A student in most subjects, and I know she is in English because she’s never out of a book. She could do even better with a bit of work and I’ve already agreed with her that I’ll be more closely involved with her studies. Her father hasn’t been around for years, but her home is a happy and stable one. Is there anything you can tell me, or that you need to know, which might make a difference, or shall we both just call it a day?”

He’d been smiling throughout her little speech, and now, as she paused for breath, he shrugged and said, “Well, you’ve just saved us about five minutes of platitudes. Thank you. And no, there’s nothing more, so I suggest that I walk you back to your car and we really can call it a day.” Karen stood, and so did Mr Wilson.

She smiled and reached across the desk to shake his hand.

But then, in that split second as he hesitated, something mischievous took over and she leaned forward, took hold of his tie, and pulled him towards her over the desk.

His expression changed from that easy smile to sudden shock, those dark eyes widening, that smile fleeing, and then her mouth was on his.

His lips were soft, his stubble short but dense, almost like velvet.

His mouth tasted of spearmint as he tried to pull away, but she had a tight hold on his neck-tie.

Then he stopped fighting, started to respond, and one hand went up to cup her left breast.

And then he pulled away, and this time she let him go.

He stumbled back as she released his tie.

“I… I’m sorry,” Karen told him. “That was bad. It just came over me.

I don’t know what”Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g

“It’s okay.”

“An old fantasy, I guess,” she went on, still feeling the need to explain, as if that would make it fine. “Snogging the teacher, that kind of thing.”

“And that makes it all okay?”

Karen looked down, embarrassed, then realized he had been joking, trying to deflate the sudden, awkward tension.

“You were going to walk me to my car?” she said, just wanting to get away. It was sweet of him to offer, but she was sure he must be regretting it now. “I could just find my way…”

He put an arm out to usher her from the room. “No, no,” he said. “Someone needs to escort you from the premises.”

He was joking again. She smiled. She just wanted to escape, and she desperately hoped her rash behavior wouldn’t have repercussions for Gemma.

Mr Wilson guided her into a side corridor she would never have taken, and a few seconds later they emerged in the big auditorium. “Just through here and we’re at the car park,” he said.

She put a hand on his arm. “I hope… well, I hope that little rush of blood to the head isn’t going to cause any problems?”

His hand on hers was reassuring, tender. “Of course not,” he said.

“It’s gone. Forgotten.”

“Forgotten?”