The week following the incident in the museum was like a living hell for Michael, she was constantly goading him on in the class room, many time causing him to cower behind his podium or his desk to hide the growing erection she aroused. The things she wore to his class, he knew were meant to tempt him. He had never seen her in anything but jeans and sweaters, but all of a sudden she was wearing tiny little skirts, very low cut sweaters, and jeans and t-shirts tight enough to make him have to catch his breath. But lord she was making it hard for him to keep his promise to her. It was as if she was purposely trying to get him to do something. He couldn't get his mind off of her out of the classroom either. When he sat at home at night, he couldn't sleep, and when he did sleep, he was hounded by dreams of her sprawled gorgeously naked over his sheets, her skin sweet and her lips yielding as she gave herself to him over and over and....it had to stop.
She was getting supremely frustrated. What more did he want from her, she was practically parading herself around naked in front of him and he still held back. She knew she was having an effect on him, she could see him hard in his trousers whenever she would put on a little show for him. Hell, one day she even came to class dressed like a schoolgirl. The tight plaid mini-skirt and low cut sweater she wore had made him stop in his tracks. She had even played with him a bit and showed him a flash of white lace panties, but still he made no move! Well, she would just have to up the ante then, wouldn't she?
When she walked into class late one Friday morning, just as he was about to chastise her, he didn't just lose his train of thought, it sailed completely over the bridge and disappeared forever. The jeans she wore looked painted on, slight rips in the denim exposed luscious glimpses of her skin, the white button-down was tight against her body, many of the buttons undone to reveal several inches of cleavage. What made his heart pound was the look in her eyes, eyes made to undo a man, make a man bend to the will of wicked women. As his gaze swept down again, he stopped breathing as he saw her tight nipples, the hard peaks pressed taut against the fabric, no lace or satin barrier in sight. As she walked to her seat she bent down in front of him, her gorgeously rounded ass in the tight denim directly in his line of sight. She sat down and stared into his eyes hard before looking away.
He gulped before finding the words. "Miss O'Malley," he said managing to sound stern, "since you've decided you can afford to be late to my class, we'll make sure you make up the time lost after class." He said the last with as much suggestion in it as possible, and looking at her as she bit her bottom lip, he knew it had hit home.
She had finally pushed him over the edge, he thought, as he paced his office, while she sat rigid in the chair placed before his desk. When he turned on her fiercely, she squeaked audibly, the look in his eyes managing to frighten her and arouse her at the same time. As he paced away from her he began to speak.
