The Good Student (7 page)

She sat and ate what Cynthia served. Pasta tubes with homemade vegetarian sauce.

“So. Did you find Mr. Taylor yesterday?” Cynthia sat across from her with her elbows on the table and hands propping up her chin. Kaya hated to have an audience when she ate, but her friend found it the best time for conversation.

Kaya desperately wanted to tell her friend about the kiss. The kiss that surpassed all kisses. The excitement of the act bubbled up inside her, begging to be released, but she thought better and kept her mouth shut.

Cynthia studied her face, clearly not believing that nothing transpired between her and her teacher. But Kaya wasn’t about to offer the truth. Not yet.

****

“Move it, woman!” Cynthia waited in the foyer, tapping her foot to an impatient beat.

“Coming!” Kaya raced down the stairs, ready for school. She tried to slip by her friend to get outside, but she blocked her exit with an arm barring the doorway.

“What on earth?” Cynthia inspected Kaya’s outfit with slanted eyes and an open mouth.

“What?” Kaya usually went for blue jeans and sweaters. Not today. She wore a gray plaid skirt and a skin tight black shirt that plunged low in the front. With her makeup done to perfection and black heels on her feet, she looked the part. What part? Kaya cringed. She didn’t want to be labeled, but she did want to seduce her teacher. Mr. Taylor needed that final nudge to give in to his desires.

“You do know we’re going to school, right? Not the club.”

“Just leave me be.” Kaya ducked under Cynthia’s arm and carefully walked towards the driveway. She wasn't used to walking in heels, and she already felt like an idiot. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Is this for Mr. Taylor’s benefit?”

“Hey, I’m just living a little. Remember? I’m a new Kaya and I take what I want. By any means necessary.”

Cynthia raked her eyes up and down Kaya’s curves. “You’re not joking about ‘by any means’ are you? And I thought I knew you." They got in the car and pulled onto the street. "I feel sorry for Mr. Taylor.”

Once in her economics class, Kaya noticed how most of the girls suddenly grew an aversion towards her. Whispers and hateful sneers came at her from every direction. The guys on the other hand were quite impressed with her choice of wardrobe.

Kaya found economics her most difficult of her four classes. She struggled to get through each day. By the time her period ended, her brain felt foggy and heavy. As she gathered her books, her realization that philosophy was her next class cleared her head entirely.

The next class was quiet when she entered. Her heels clicked and echoed in the large, empty space as she made her way down the steps to her seat in the third row. She checked her lipstick in her compact and crossed her legs, anxious for Mr. Taylor’s arrival. If by some chance he stayed out of class again, she’d catch him after class at lunch, as planned.

A student, followed by Mr. Taylor, entered from the private lower door. The student pushed a rickety metal cart with a slide projector on it. As he arranged it into place beside the teacher’s desk, Mr. Taylor pulled down a large white backdrop screen. Class was still about ten minutes from commencing and only a few students had trickled in, but the noise coming from the hallways was obscene.

Kaya tracked Mr. Taylor’s every move. Just seeing him made her giddy. She'd never wanted any man more.

He glanced her way when he turned to sit at his desk. His eyes lasered in directly on her and didn’t falter. Only the sound of another student rummaging through their book bag forced him to look away. He appeared tired and distracted. His brooding made him sexier. All she could think about was getting alone with him again.

As soon as the class filled up, Mr. Taylor flicked off the lights and took his place behind the projector.

“We’re going to take a little break and do some art appreciation. I’d like to get some of your impressions on these pieces. They mean a lot of different things to different people. Art's known to be very subjective. A person’s life experiences can dictate how they perceive something.”

He went through several slides of beautiful artwork from famous artists of the past century. He asked questions and students answered, creating several interesting discussions. Mr. Taylor’s intelligence was the ultimate turn on. She couldn’t wait to get him alone and all to herself.

“Why are shadows used in this picture?” he asked the class. Several students offered their opinions, but none of them hit on the point the teacher wanted to make.

“Kaya?"

“The shadows are used to reflect the mood of the mourners.”

“Exactly.” He addressed the class. “Kaya doesn’t say much, but when she does, it’s brilliant.” Heat rushed from her extremities and pooled in her core. Her pussy pulsed deep and urgent upon hearing his voice and listening to his praise.

She thought class would never end. Her next period was lunch and her “date” with Mr. Taylor in the privacy of his office. Kaya stayed put in her seat until every student cleared out of the room. But once the drone of conversation was gone, she suddenly lost her bravado and wished she hadn’t worn her getup and heels.

Kaya walked down the stairs as he collected his materials from the desk. Her heels pierced the silence with an erotic echo that made him glance up. When she got to the level floor, he stood straight, his face a blank slate.

“You still want to talk with me at lunch?” she asked.

He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. “Yes. I’m almost ready.”

“No rush.” She sat on his desk beside where he stood and crossed her leg over the other, exposing most of her thigh. She wanted him to look at her with lust in his eyes. She wanted him to forget right and wrong and give into his desire and lose control. Kaya waited and hoped. She was ready to fuck him today, this minute, this second.

“You know, you really shouldn’t dress like that. I had a difficult time keeping my male students focused today.”
So he did notice.

“Kaya," he started, but stopped for what seemed like forever. "I planned to tell you I couldn’t have anything to do with you romantically.”

“And now?”

“You’re making if very hard for me to walk away.”

“Then don’t.” She pressed closer and kissed his lips. Immediately he looked up and scanned the empty room. If anything happened between them it had to be a big secret.

“Let’s head to my office. It’s more private.”

****

With almost no sleep the night before, he came to work more zombie than man. He got home late from the pub, but couldn’t find any peace as he laid back on his king sized bed. All he thought about was Kaya. His conscience tormented him. He wanted her for himself, but knew he had to let go and have nothing to do with her. One action that seemed impossible when he couldn’t get the girl out of his head.

He was being selfish. Hayden was forty-two, not thirty-two. But even that would have been too old for a twenty-six year old at the prime of her life. As much as he wanted her, she'd be getting the short end of the stick. It wasn't fair for her, so he'd planned to end whatever it was that had started between them.

When he came into class and saw what Kaya wore, his resolve to say goodbye vanished. She looked so utterly tempting. He always had a thing for women with long legs in heels. Hayden was glad he chose to do a slide presentation because he really needed to hide the painful bulge in his pants. He wanted to stare at Kaya's long legs and drag his tongue up the length of one, from her ankle to her cunt.

Hayden planned to keep his eyes to himself to avoid the temptation she offered during their lunch meeting. When she blatantly flirted with him, throwing in a healthy dose of sexual innuendo, he lost it. He was totally fucked because there was no way in hell he could refuse her. She played a dangerous game, telling him she wanted to bite. If only she knew the things he had stored up in his head just waiting to be unleashed.

His role as the good and respectable professor became increasingly more pathetic by the year. Now that he was a single man, with nothing close to a serious girlfriend, his life and future were laughable. He didn’t want to be the old, lonely man that everyone loved.
Old Mr. Taylor, what a sweetheart.
No, he wanted a woman of his own and a life outside of work for once. He wanted Kaya. She was young, exciting, uninhibited and gorgeous. Her answers in class and quiz results proved what he already knew. She was uncommonly intelligent and would be a good intellectual match for him. Her ambition was to be a teacher, something he would love to mentor her towards. The mere thought of taking her under his wing made him happier than he'd been in ages.

He unlocked his windowless office and held the door open for Kaya. Her heels made her taller, all legs. She walked with confidence and he wanted to spank her until she lost that self-assured smirk on her face.

As soon as he closed and locked the door she spoke. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

Fuck.
Her skirt was already above her knees. If she bent over without a stitch of clothing on underneath he’d be able to see her pink little pussy. His groin grew hard as granite. Did she realize what a dangerous game she played? She looked like a Catholic school girl with the plaid skirt and blouse, further pulling him into the twisted fantasy of teacher and student.

“Hayden! Okay, maybe it was a mistake dressing like this today. It’s out of character for me. But when it comes to you I don’t seem to think straight. I’ve never wanted one of my teachers before.” She spun away from him and pushed back her hair in obvious frustration. When her arms rose, her shirt revealed an inch of her smooth, narrow back. He reached out to touch, but pulled back. “I don’t sleep around and I’m not usually the aggressive one. What you see is a result of how you affect me.”

She faced him with her brow lowered. “Boys my age? You make me sound like a twelve year old. I may be younger than you, but I’m twenty six and very much a woman. If I wanted a boy, let me assure you, I could have my pick. What I want is a man.” Then she whispered, “What I want is you.”

Chapter Eight

Her dream guy admitted to wanting her. Maybe as much as she wanted him. It felt like a dream, a sweep of bliss wrapping itself around her when she'd never felt so vulnerable.

Hayden rested a hand at the small of her back, the other tilting her face upwards, as he brushed a gentle kiss on her lips. She fought the urge to lunge into his mouth hungrily with her tongue. Rather she enjoyed the texture of his lips and the heat of his breath.

“I want to take you out on a proper date,” he finally said.

She hadn’t expected this. Offering him home base, she wondered why he’d bother to wine and dine her. Maybe he really was the real thing she had been searching for.

“Okay. What did you have in mind?”

“Dinner. Tonight.”

“Your place?” She couldn’t help but be suspicious. He was a man and he knew she wanted him. It didn’t matter to her, but part of her began to expect more than just thrills from him. She'd never be able to give him one night and then walk away. He was the type of man a woman held onto and cherished.

He shook his head. “Not yet. I was thinking dinner at a restaurant. I can pick you up around six. Is that okay?”

A date, a date, a real date
. Her smile peeked out even though she tried to hide it. “Sounds good.”