Ever since Miss Harrison had become my psychology teacher I had spent more time in extra tuition, as she put it, than in her lectures. Every day she demanded that I returned after everyone had gone home, yet when I did all she would do is make me sit opposite her desk and just to go through what she had taught us during that day's lecture, and enough was enough.
Pausing outside her room I took a deep breath before pushing the door open and walking in. As usual Miss Harrison was sitting behind her desk, only today she had her legs stretched out, resting on another table.
Slowly I entered the room and, without even looking up from the book she was reading, Miss Harrison told me to sit down.
"What have I done now, Miss?" I asked, lowering myself on to my chair.
"Who said you'd done anything, Damon?"
Lifting one of her hands Miss Harrison started to fiddle, seductively, with the small gold chain around her neck, keeping my attention firmly on her cleavage.
"Look, Damon, we both know that you are finding this class, shall we say, difficult," Miss Harrison began, "and it is my job, as your lecturer, to make sure that you pass."
As she spoke, and I continued to stare, the hardness between my legs became increasingly uncomfortable, as it pushed against my zipper, trying to burst free.
"I know, Miss, but how is this..."
"The thing is, Damon, all this extra tuition you need to make sure you do pass is playing havoc with my social life," Miss Harrison interrupted, "and well, let us put it this way, if you scratch my back I'll scratch yours, if you get my meaning."
