"I hate Valentines Day!" Heather was sobbing into a box of chocolates. The classroom was empty except for Heather and the large heart-shaped box. Crumpled sheets of paper littered the floor along with slivers of construction paper and the mashed ends of crayons ground into the moldy, grey carpet.
Heather scanned the chocolates as fat, self pitying tears slid down her neck and down along her round breasts. She chose the square newspaper boy and then bit off his head in one angry chomp. He didn't seem to mind that he'd been decapitated, so next she took his legs and then finally just shoved the rest in her mouth, mixing the salt and the sweet. She grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk and blew sloppily as she got to her feet.
It would be another year of drinking wine at home and trying to convince herself that she wouldn't rather be in a hotel having the shit fucked out of her. She straightened her skirt as she got up off the desk, abandoning the box of chocolates long enough to begin collecting the stray bits of paper. She had been too worn out to do much with the kids today. Valentine's day was always wearying for the bitterly single. She'd given them each a sheet of white paper, a box of crayons to a table and told them to make cards for their mommies. Jerry, that adorable kid with the bowl cut, had nervously told her that he had two daddies. She could see the worry building in his face so she cut it off at the pass by giving him an extra sheet of paper and telling him to make each daddy a card. Then she sat at her desk and allowed herself an hour of running through all of her failed relationships while she stuffed her face with chocolate. When the kids found her crying she just told them that she missed her mommy. They nodded knowingly and returned to the crayons.
It had been...probably a year since she'd last fallen in love. It had taken about a year to get over that one, and even then she sometimes found herself sharply woken by dreams of him looking at her with disgust, or even worse, touching her body. She missed the way he smelled. She really wished that she didn't. She had tried dating. It was amusing and sometimes the sex was good, but mostly she fucked for the rush of escape and then found herself resenting her bedfellow the minute the sweat had cooled.
She picked up the last sliver of paper and threw it in the wastebasket. She returned to her perch on the desk, but the sight of the chocolate made her feel ill, so she hastily let them join the paper in the wastebasket. Then she lay flat on the desk and tried to breath. As the calm settled over her she thought she heard a sound out in the hallway. She listened for several moments, but when she heard nothing she shut her eyes again and let her mind spin with thoughts. Was the chocolate making her feel aroused? Well, she didn't know what was making her feel that way, but her brain began to fill up with images of naked men licking her skin. One hand slowly crept down her legs and snuck into her underwear feeling her wet as it diddled her clit. Her other hand traveled up to her full breasts and began to tease her nipples through the thin cloth of her shirt. She slipped two fingers inside of her tight canal and began to rub its length, wishing for a stiff cock. Her nipples grew hard and she slowly pulled down her shirt and slipper her hand down her bra pawing at her breasts.
