A/N-Throughout the series there will be chapters set in high school. In these cases, the students are always at least 18 years old and consenting adults.
Buffy had been blatantly making eyes at Mr. William for at least a week. She unabashedly flirted with him before and after class, and wore the most revealing clothes she could get away with. She carefully styled her hair and applied her make-up each morning with the intent of attracting attention. She was playing a very grown-up game, but she felt confident that she knew all the rules.
The problem was that Mr. William was not taking any notice. He treated her the same as before, that is, just like everybody else. He didn't even have the good grace to blush, even slightly, when she fluttered her eyelashes prettily and thrust her breasts forward. He ignored her flirting and innuendo, as though he didn't even hear it. This frustrated and confused Buffy Summers to the point of anger.
If pressed, she wouldn't be able to answer what, exactly, she wanted her English teacher to do. Simply notice her? Flirt back? Try to kiss her? Something more? Well, her body definitely wanted something more. Just the thought of him made her flush with heat. She had her first sex dream ever about him, and when she woke up, she was nearly sick with lust and confusion.
Buffy put on a big act, and bragged about all her exploits to her friends, but she was actually quite inexperienced. Her first, and only, encounter with a boy had been on her 18th birthday, rough pawing in the back seat of his father's car that led to fumbling for zippers and a condom. Afterward, he didn't call her again, and she had a pretty dim view of sex and men. But that didn't decrease her natural desires, and Mr. William had been driving her to distraction since the beginning of the semester.
She couldn't put her finger on exactly what made him so attractive. It was more than just looks, though he was quite good looking. She didn't really notice him until the second week of the semester, when he took his glasses off and looked her directly in the eye. Those intense blue eyes were enough to make her melt, and without the glasses she got a good, unobstructed view of his face. To put it lightly, he was beautiful. High cheekbones, full lips, he didn't look like he should be a high school English teacher. She had asked him a question, and he unconsciously stuck the tip of his tongue out through his lips as he thought of the answer. She nearly gasped.
It was the day that she had decided to give up on him and go back to wearing her normal clothes that he asked her to stay after school to discuss her latest assignment. She felt a chill of excitement race down her back and land in the pit of her stomach. The thought of spending any time alone with him was always exhilarating, even if she was giving up on him.
The minutes until the final bell rang ticked by slowly and painfully. Logically, she knew it was silly to be so excited that she was literally squirming in her chair, but he had never asked her to stay after class before. Finally, the bell rang and the rest of the class scurried out. She, however, remained sitting sedately in her chair.
"Ms. Summers? Would you like to step into my office."
The office was a small room, almost a closet, just off the main classroom. It was crowded, but relatively neat, and he was able to fit in a couch a desk. There wasn't room for anything else though. He rarely invited students into the office, but when he did, it was usually for serious business. Serious "shape up or you'll fail" business. Buffy gulped, her excitement turning to dread.
He held the door open for her, and indicated that she should sit on the couch. As soon as she did, he shut the door and discretely locked it.
"So, Ms. Summers, is there anything you'd like to discuss?"
She frowned. "Um…no?"
"You haven't had any problems lately?" He leaned on the corner of the desk casually, his arms crossed, and she noticed that the thin material of his shirt hugged his muscles. That wasn't right. English teachers shouldn't have arms like that.
"No."
"Oh. I'm asking because it seems that you've been trying very hard to get my attention."
Buffy froze. Oh. Oh. Was he going to yell at her? Was he going to call her mother? She had no idea how to respond, and couldn't even if she wanted to. Instead she averted her eyes and remained silent.
"Well," he continued, "You have it. Now what are you going to do?"
Was he being serious? Would he let her run away? Because that's what she felt like doing. Or maybe the floor could open and swallow her. That would be acceptable too. Somehow, it never occurred to her that she would actually be called on her actions.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she finally choked out. Yay, actual words. That was a start. She knew her face was crimson. But even as she was dying with embarrassment, a part of her was reacting very strongly to the proximity of his body. She knew, knew, that if he so much as brushed against her arm, she would lose all shame and beg for him.
"I think you do…Buffy." The tone of his voice dropped on her name, and he said at like a caress. Her mouth was suddenly dry. How could he make her name sound so…erotic?
She shook her head in response.
