The First Class

I approach Miss Adams with a slight look of pleading in my eyes, "Hey, did you mark me in?" I ask her. She tilts her head and replies, "Yes, as a late mark, which before you even start to complain, was fully deserved."

I nod my head, admitting that she was right. Before I can even think about making a sassy comment, a copy of Shakespeare's "Macbeth" comes flying at me, landing on my desk with a loud thud.

"Okay, message received. There's no need to get feisty just because I was late," I say as I rub my head. My lame attempt at humour isn't appreciated, and Miss Adams gives me a look of pure anger, her face contorting into a scowl. "Show me that attitude again, and you'll be dealing with a lot more than a late mark," she warns me.

I quickly back down, realizing that it's not the best idea to push her buttons any further. "Yes, Miss," I reply sheepishly.

As she starts to try to teach the chaotic classroom, my mind drifts and I find my gaze drawn to the way her body is highlighted by her well-tailored clothes. I try to shake off these thoughts, reminding myself that she is my teacher and significantly older than me.

Despite my efforts, I can't help but notice her toned body, her long, slender legs, and her large, full breasts that are barely contained by the tight shirt. I bite my lip, trying to control my desire.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't realize the class has ended until she suddenly calls out to me. "Miss Black? Can I speak to you?"

I snap back to reality and turn around, my cheeks flaming red. "Yes, Miss," I reluctantly reply, walking over to her desk.

She stands up, towering over me, her toned body intimidating me. The husky undertone of her voice only serves to make me flustered. "I will not have you turning up late to my lessons and then having the audacity to speak to me without a single drop of respect dripping off that tongue of yours," she scolds me harshly. "Do I make myself clear?"

Her words take me by surprise, and I look up at her, trying to find the right words to say. Her eyes burn into mine, and her body looms over me, almost trapping me. Feeling flustered and intimidated, I respond weakly, "Sorry, Miss. It won't happen again."

She leans in slightly, her face inches from mine, and she whispers, "Damn right it won't."

I shiver at her tone and nod my head, completely under her control. As she looks at me, I see a flicker of something in her eyes that makes my heart skip a beat.