She was reading the work of one of her more troublesome students. He was obviously smart and not working to his potential at all. She read his words and loved the way he created word pictures that transported her, as the reader, to the time, place, and more essentially, the essence of the moment he was describing. He was obviously smart but he lacked direction and motivation and she had worked since September to leverage his talents and realize his potential.
Slowly she turned the page reading the next part of his story. Her eyes slowly followed the line of text that made up the words he had written and she knew she comprehended what he wrote and she knew that most people would not. She finished his story and closed the last page of the paper and slid her hand slowly over the smooth paper and smiled. He had done it again. He had pulled her into his world with his words and delivered something that made her feel.
She wanted to feel. She had not felt for a long time. As a teacher she knew she had an obligation to all her students but she knew she felt compelled to help those students that did not know they had potentialities that exceeded that of the average person. She stretched out her body, pointing her toes and feeling the tension in her leg muscles grow as her leg muscles contacted and then relaxed. She looked down at his paper and then slid it into the manila folder marked “English Composition” and rose and walked to the coat closet and gathered her trench coat and purse. She shut off the lights to Room 212 and walked down the stairs in the century old school to the parking lot. Her heels clip-clopped and the loneliness and solitude of walking in the halls of such an old building made her feel insignificant. So many people had passed through these halls and yet, at this moment, she could only influence 30 students and one of them was constantly on her mind.
It was raining. She raised her collar to ward off the weather and strode with directed purpose to her car. The sleet stuck her face and she averted her face to the weather and pulled up her collar in an attempt to avoid the sting on her face. She opened the door of her car and slid into the cold confines of her sedan with its cold vinyl upholstery.
She started her car and reversed and then put it in a forward gear and then hit the brake.
A figure stood in her way. The wipers swished and she could not see who it was. The figure moved to the right and the interior light flashed on and then off as the figured slid into the passenger seat. She sat still, the sound of the engine constant but for the squeak of the wiper blades as the passed across the windshield.
A hand, cold, slid between her trench coat and legs and slid upwards. She felt the pressure against her body and she inhaled sharply.
“Are you going to rape me?” she asked.
The figure did not answer. She waited and then the hand was removed. She sat waiting and wondering as the wiper swiped over the windshield. The figure moved slowly towards her and she felt a soft kiss on her cheek. She put the car in gear and drove.
Into the night of flat light she drove. Driving slowly, cautiously so not to arise suspicion she proceeded. She wondered why she was so reserved given the circumstances. Her curiosity drew her to let the night play out. She stared ahead as she drove but her mind played back to the kiss.
It had been soft. Loving. Reverent. She could not encapsulate what that meant but she knew she wanted to respond to it. She drove out into the country, stalling for time, so she could think on her feelings. She wanted to turn and look at the figure but she also wanted to revel in the mystery of the figure. Elementally she wanted that had between her thighs again. She could not believe that there was two mental processes at work as she drove. One that wished to be able to resist the experience and one that wanted the experience. She drove into the sleet and the weather grew worse. Her wipers worked against the weather but she knew she was going to lose her way. Turning left she remembered a road that led to a dead end and she shifted gears as her car ascended the steep incline of the hill. The car peaked this hill and descended and road over a set of railway tracks. She slowed down. She crossed a bridge and then found the road to the left she knew was there. She turned and then found the right turn she knew was next. Driving slowly down the dirt road she found the road of her youth. She had lost her virginity her. She was not sure what she was going to lose now but she wanted to find out.
She drove until she saw a track and pulled off into it and drove as far as she dared. Shutting off her car she sat in the darkness, waiting.
The soft kiss on the cheek again. Her mouth opened and she turned in response and in the darkness they kissed. Deeply. Fully.
She pulled her coat from her shoulders and began to unbutton her dress. She opened it to the figure in the passenger seat and let her back fall against the driver’s door. The white material of her bra outlined her figure and she looked down upon her breasts. She noticed the rate of her respiration and realized how much she missed the abandon of being desired. Reaching in front she grasped the intersection of the bra between her breasts and pulled hard, ripping the bra open and allowing her breasts to be exposed. She let her body recline against the door and she reached out and pulled the figure to her.
A mouth covered her left nipple and began to lick and suck it. She moaned and her legs opened and she felt a hand cup her.
Kissing. He was kissing her. Deeply. She could feel him against her. She wanted to gather the figure’s face in her hands and look at the figure but he was too strident. Too wanting. God, how she wanted to be wanted. He gathered him to her and held her close and the passion of him filled her. His head dropped down to her breasts and she gathered them in her hands and offered them to him.
The confines of her car was a metaphor.
She pushed him away and opened her door and stepped out into the night. The interior light exposed the figure and she realized it was him, the one she had read and wondered about. She shirked off her trench coat and stood in the woods waiting for him. The light illuminated once again and was extinguished and she stood there in her dress. She rolled her shoulders letting it slide down off her. She reached down and tore the gusset of her pantyhose open. She pulled the white nylon of her panties and ripped a hole in them.
He came toward her and she knelt in the dampness of leaves and pine needles and waited.
He came to her and she felt his firm hands on her shoulders and fell back against the dank earth. He moved between her legs and she opened them to him.
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