An Unliely Encounter

Do not reprint this work on any other website, or any medium, without the express consent of the author (me!).

All characters are at least 18 years old.

Author’s Note: I realize this story may seem a bit long at first glance. Please note that is has been divided into several small, manageable chapters. Since I wrote it as all once piece, I wanted to submit it that way.

Synopsis: A story of reluctance against lust. A high school teacher inadvertently finds himself becoming attracted to one of his students. The student, in turn, recognizes this and wonders if she can push the envelope...

I

Okay, so I get stressed. It goes with the job, you know? I deal with people, a

lot

of people, on a daily basis. And it winds me up. Everyone has their own ways to cope. I don’t do yoga or any of that new-age crap. I hit the gym. Not to be a bodybuilder, or to train for marathons. I’m not even the type that goes just to check out women, like some of my buddies who shall remain nameless. I mean, I’m not single and haven’t been for awhile. I go to blow off some steam and try to regain the little bit of the sanity I lose on a daily basis. And that’s where I was today. I was finishing off one of my typical routines on an exercise bike and planning to just zone the hell out.

Now, I know I said I don’t specifically

go

to check out women, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind, right? I was only on the bike for a little while when I noticed a girl had taken up a treadmill a ways in front of me. It faced the window, looking out to the street.

Ah, one who likes to be checked out.

Well I could see why.

She really had a great little body. The first thing I saw was her ass. Perfect shape, rounded out in those tiny exercise shorts that barely cover any leg. It swayed a little bit, from side to side, as she jogged on… Accentuating her every step.

Does she really run like that, or is it to make men drool?

It must be something with the hips that makes a female’s walk so much sexier than a man’s.

Then I took in her legs. Slender but shapely.

Flawless

skin. They were so smooth; not even a mark on them from what I could see, except maybe a little freckle on that back of a thigh. And yes, I realized I must have been staring pretty hard to notice.

She must be a bit younger, maybe early twenties…

Then her lower back. It rose up from the hem of those petite shorts, faultless curves turning inward from her hips that would be more subtle on her tight body if it wasn’t for the way her ass swung right then. After awhile, her back began to slightly glisten from her perspiration.

I could see it on her shoulders too, almost totally bare from her sports bra. And the back of her neck. It was visible because her hair was tied up in a cute ponytail, which bounced and bobbed with every step.

I wonder how long she’ll run for… Does her front side match the back?

Normally I’m not

this

interested. Really! Sure, I’d see some attractive woman, admire her for a moment, then forget about it just as fast. I don’t know what it was about this one. Maybe it was just a fluke of me being in a funky mood and this little show-off just happening to be in front of me. But normally by this point, I would have moved on from the bike and gone home; I had done everything else for the day. Yeah, guilty little admission that I was still there for the chance to see her face.

But then I did.

My attention piqued up as I saw her right arm move to the console on the treadmill and punch something in. Her steady pace slowed down to a half-jog, then a walk, then she stood still. She took a drink from a water bottle, still facing away from me. Then she stretched both her arms up, arching her back a bit as her body went taut.

Before, I would like to think that I was not

completely

obvious as I ogled her. But now, as she did

this

, her body started turning to the side. First I saw an outline of her stomach, flat and toned. She kept turning. My eyes poured up her body, over her breasts with a little cleavage in the bra… Up her chest… Up her neck…

And then I saw her face. It wore a look of nonchalance, but I could tell immediately that she hid a tiny smile out of the corner of her mouth. I

knew

this smug look because I finally recognized her. My eyes shot down to the floor. I swallowed hard.

Oh crap, I hope she didn’t notice me…

Maybe you’re wondering now, what’s the problem? Well, it dawned on me that all this time I had been checking out a girl from the local high school. Honestly, I didn’t know… If I had realized I was inwardly drooling at the sight of one of my own student’s bodies, I would have stopped long ago.

Ah. I guess I didn’t tell you

what

my job was. I’m a teacher.

II

Meet Autumn S. Student number 17 on the roster for ‘Creative Writing’. It’s an English elective, and no, it isn’t

completely

made up of poetry geeks and drama nerds. What is high school about if not getting into college? The class looks better on a transcript than art or an extra gym class. Some kids might even sign up because it sounds fun, but let’s not get carried away, right?

Autumn was in many ways your typical senior. Well, your typical senior who

liked

high school. No, she wasn’t the head cheerleader. And no, she didn’t drive a sports car worth more than my yearly salary. But she was confident, intelligent, and yes, good looking. I had never gotten hung up on this fact before the little “show” at the gym.

Really

.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t pretend to be some paragon of moral inscrutability. I can recognize when a student looks good. All teachers do. Because we want to fuck them? No. It’s because we need to understand it in order to reign in the classroom dynamics. Hate me for stereotyping all you want, but whenever I see a student who was lucky enough to have attractive genes, then I start out dubious.

Why? Because they think they can get away with more. You

know

that’s a fact, so let’s move on. My point is Autumn, like any other cute student, hadn’t ever registered on my “I’d like to bang you”-meter. Besides, I’m a taken man. Granted I’m fairly new to the teaching profession, and one could argue that she really isn’t

that

much younger than me, but… Well,

that’s

not important.

I’m not sure if she saw me that evening at the gym. I did my best to convince myself that I would not have appeared as anything particular; just a man on a bike, staring at the floor.

In the zone,

if you will. For about a week, I maintained this belief. I even managed to stay unflustered back in the classroom when she first strolled in; period before lunch.

Okay,

almost

unflustered. That

first

day was maybe a

little

unnerving. She walked in with one of her friends, and I dealt with the compromise of looking busy at my desk and hawking her out of the corner of my eye. Did she look at me funny? Did she giggle? Nope, nothing. She just walked down an aisle to the back of the classroom.

Her ass does that same wiggle in those tight jeans even when not jogging…

Yeah, I tried to pretend that I didn’t think that. So maybe I had a few illicit thoughts. I’m only human, right? I got over it, moved on. She never acted weird; I was good to go. That is, as I said, for about a week.

Let me rewind for just a second. I had given an assignment, and this was before

that

day at the gym, to write a short story. The prompt was just:

An Unlikely Encounter

. I used it every year. Basically, I let the students go hog-wild; write whatever you want. Usually they turn in something about meeting a celebrity, or Bill Gates, or the most popular: an alien. It is supposed to be fun, let them make up something out of the ordinary, no strings attached. Okay… sorry, you’re not here for an English lesson.

So back to today, they were turning in their first chapter. This way I could make sure it was something reasonable, that they weren’t half-assing it, that they were actually writing something and not putting the entire project off until the last day. I would grade it, write some feedback, give it back to them. Then they write the next part. Really, I’m not trying to bore you; this is critical information.

I told them to bring their paper up to me at the end of class before they headed out to lunch. The bell rang and they did so. With each piece handed to me, I first amused myself by checking out the page setup.

Big font. Huge margins. Enormous title.

Come on, that shit doesn’t work in the 21st century. But still they try…

The last paper was handed to me with some trepidation, not just sloughed off into the pile. I looked up. There was Autumn, hand still holding the paper, looking right at me.

“Thanks,” I gestured toward the pile.

“Um, I’m not sure if it’s very good…” she warned.

Uh oh, here come the waterworks about why she had to write it at the last second.

“I’m sure it’s just fine,” I reassured.

“Well, I think it starts off good…”

Starts off *well* damn it.

“…but I’m not really sure I know how to continue it,” she finished.

“Ah! But that’s the whole point: to get feedback

before

it’s all done,” I smiled.

She shifted her weight and bunched up her lips, making a little pout. “Okay, but um, I was wondering if you could maybe look at it now? And give me some advice?”

I leaned back in my chair.

It’s lunch time; I’m hungry too, Autumn.

“Don’t worry about it, I will read over it at the regularly scheduled time. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

She looked mildly dejected and took a step back. It was at this point that I realized her shirt didn’t reach all the way down to her jeans and exposed a little midriff. A flash of her half-naked body briefly popped in my mind, but I had the good grace to keep my eyes on hers.

“Um, okay. Just, let me know what you think should happen next. I’m really interested.”

I chuckled, “It’s

your

story, Autumn. Not mine.”

She gave a smile. And I’m usually pretty good about these things, but I couldn’t tell if it was forced or not. In retrospect, I know that it wasn’t.

“Okay, if you say so!” And with that, she left the classroom. Somewhere, part of me wanted to check out her ass again. Of course I didn’t look, and for a half-second I was inwardly proud of my restraint. It was quickly replaced by the realization that I shouldn’t have had that urge in the

first

place.

III

It was Thursday night, and I was going through the submissions. So far, it was all run-of-the-mill stuff. Nothing terribly interesting, only one paper clearly scraped together the morning it was due. But then Autumn’s was the next in the stack.

“Ah, let’s see what she was complaining about,” I hummed to myself.

I’ll tell you right now, I am sure as shit glad that I didn’t read it when she gave it to me. The scene started in the gym. I think I got to about the second sentence when I felt my heart skip a beat.

‘She was running on the treadmill, looking out the window…’

It’s okay. It’s not about

that

day. She probably goes to the gym a lot. I mean, she

does

have that body… I kept reading.

‘As the evening went on, it started getting darker outside. It was harder to see out the window because it was reflecting the light from inside the room…’

The realization hadn’t sunk in yet. At least not to the forefront of my mind. But my pulse kept speeding up anyway. My eyes leapt down the page, paying no attention to mistakes in her writing. I dimly thought

‘at least she is doing a good job creating suspense…’

She talked about how her body felt. How she felt energized as she ran. How she got hot and what the sweat felt like on her skin. It was painting a vivid picture… One that I had no trouble imagining. My mouth began to dry out as I read on, the image of that sexy form jogging in front of me.

Then the important part came.

‘After awhile, she could see everybody behind her just by the reflection in the window. That’s when she noticed someone. Someone staring at her…’

Ah fuck.

I’ll tell ya, I don’t think I was ever as interested in a student paper as I was right then. I flew through the words, dread creeping over me as I did so. She wrote about recognizing the man staring at her. About him being a teacher. One of

her

teachers. She said she decided to run a little bit longer, just to see how long he’d watch. She described getting a little thrill out of it. She wanted to keep going, but she was getting tired.

So she *was* showing off…

Finally she gave up, and stretched to give him a good view. She was going to smile at him, but when she looked over, he was staring at the ground. Then she felt embarrassed, so she just left…

I put the paper down, my hands actually trembling.

Okay, how the hell do I deal with this!?

I drummed my fingers on the table, thoughts racing through my mind.

She knows… She knows I was checking her out… My own student!

As nervous as I was, I suddenly realized, maybe even a little pale-faced, that a lot of blood was rushing between my legs.

Oh my god, I’m fucking hard!?

I needed to think. I put the paper aside and picked up another one, trying to push the thoughts out of my head. Although I technically read all the words, not one of them registered in my brain. All I could think about was Autumn. Tight little ass, tiny little shorts Autumn. Perfect smooth legs, skimpy sports bra Autumn.

That fucking showoff knew exactly what she was doing…

I got up from the table and began to pace around the room.

Okay, time to get a hold of yourself.

I needed to blow off some energy.

Maybe I should go to the gym… Maybe she’ll even be there…

My thoughts were frantic. I stopped in my tracks and let out an exacerbated sigh. I could feel it, but I had to look down anyway. There was a huge tent in my slacks.

I felt frustrated and a little ashamed. Shoving one hand in my pocket, I tried to readjust myself to make it less noticeable. The attention felt good, and I thoughtlessly tugged at the base of my cock.

Good god, this is pathetic. I have to end this right now.

Back to my table, I pulled her paper in front of me. Red pen out: time to kill this thing.

“Autumn, I am afraid there is not much of an actual ‘encounter’ taking place here. Your characters never actually meet. It is almost as if the protagonist imagined the whole thing. While perhaps an intriguing premise, you may want to start again.”

There, that’ll make her write something else. I read back over my comment.

*Intriguing premise?* Why the fuck did I say that!?

I thought about crossing it out, but that would look ridiculous. Nothing to do about it now. I fidgeted in my seat, realizing I was in no condition to grade the other papers yet.

I went into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face. Water dripped back down as I leaned over the sink, feeling almost dizzy.

Calm down. I haven’t done anything wrong. I am overreacting. But damn it why I am so fucking hard!

I could not shake the image of Autumn out of my head. I saw her standing in front of my desk, that cute little pout when she gave me her paper. Tummy peaking out from under her shirt...

What the hell would I have done if I read it… with her right there? Would she have stood and watched me? I probably would have even told her to take a seat… Next to me even! What if I got hard, right next to her? She must know… She would maybe even touch it… Oh god, that would be so wrong…

I didn’t even realize it, but I had shoved a hand down my pants and was slowly jerking myself to these anxious thoughts. But I didn’t stop once I grasped this. Instead, I undid my slacks and pushed them down, giving myself better access. I clenched my eyes shut and shook my head in disbelief at myself.

I bet this is what she wanted… If only she knew what I was doing right this second… Autumn you hot little tease… I can’t believe I’m even thinking about you…

And with that, I came. All over the bathroom sink. My entire body tingled from the sudden sensation. When I finally came around from my high, my eyes slowly fluttered open.

What the hell did I just do?

IV

Friday. I managed to get the rest of the papers graded the night before.

After

I talked to my girlfriend for a bit on the phone. Now that was an awkward experience. Not for her, but for me. I’ll admit I was feeling pretty guilty for the duration of the evening. It’s not like I’ve never jerked off to another woman before… But my own teenage student? That was a little different.

I tried to keep it out of my mind. I didn’t do so well. My anxiety inched over me, little by little, as my

Creative Writing

period approached. I was nervous to see her. Nervous to give her paper back. I felt silly, but hey, emotions are emotions. Keep in mind I had a pretty restless night previously; thoughts of Autumn’s story haunting me.

When the time finally arrived, I nearly scoffed when I saw her enter the room. She had on this little plaid skirt. And no, we don’t have a uniform at this school. She still had on a reasonably conservative sweater, even if it was a little tight… It wasn’t nearly as outrageous as other tops I’ve seen the girls wear. But the skirt…

Ouch

. It was short. Not so short as to be inappropriate, but short enough to say

‘Look at me.’

And the boys did look at her, eyebrows rising in double takes at her legs. The girls noticed too, a little bit of envy flashing in their eyes. I did my best to

not

look at her and remain impassively neutral, occupied mind of a teacher on his work.

I wonder if she is wearing that for me…

I admonishingly bit the back of my tongue.

Don’t be an idiot.

Class proceeded normally. Autumn sits in the back, and so thankfully I couldn’t be distracted by her outfit under that desk, even if I wanted to be. As the bell approached, I gave some generic feedback about the stories and began to hand them back. Up and down the rows I walked, passing them out one by one. When I got to

her

, she was sitting sideways in her seat, knees pressed together and she bent down and rifled through her backpack.

It forced me to glance at that smooth skin again, tantalizingly leading up to some bare thigh, then finally hidden underneath the fabric of her skirt. I only looked for a second, but that’s all it really takes for a girl to notice, isn’t it?

“Oh, sorry.” She said detachedly, swinging her legs back under the table and letting me walk by. For my part, I pretended to ignore her and began instructing the class with another reminder that

‘a lot’

is *two* words.

The room was mostly silent except for the shuffling of papers flipping back and forth as they read my comments. I already expected at least one or two of the more anal perfectionists to come and either complain or kiss ass to improve their grade. Such is life.

The bell rang.

Everyone piled up at the door to escape as I wished them a good weekend. I casually sunk back into my desk; one student already waiting there for me. Meet James C. A classic example of a student who thinks he is smart, but is sadly only very well-educated. Each assignment to him is not a chance to learn, but a chance to achieve perfect marks that will send him off to the next and best station in life.

We talked for a few minutes. I won’t bore you any further with it. As he left for lunch, my chest tightened to realize Autumn was still sitting in her seat. I quickly surveyed the room; everyone else was gone. “Are you so hungry that you forgot to leave for lunch?” I joked out to her.

She looked up from her table and held up her paper. “Could I talk to you about this?” she asked flatly.