Grace Ch 02 2

I drove home in a haze after my encounter with Grace's mom Lindsey. I had a check for $1500 to get the tutoring started the next day, and I was exhausted and happy from the unexpected but amazing sex she had offered as "motivation" for helping her daughter. That, combined with the promise of future sessions, was enough to make me actually look forward to...

Oh, crap. I had to go back the next day and actually work with Grace. This was the girl who failed open book tests in my class last semester! How the hell was I going to help her pass? I prayed that she would find some motivation herself now that graduation was in sight.

When I knocked on the door at 3:00 the next day, I was dreading the work. Dread changed to delight when Lindsey opened the door, but I suppressed my lust and kept things polite since Grace was around somewhere. I'm pretty sure the grin I couldn't contain gave me away, but she had a twinkle in her eye as well, so I didn't feel too badly.

"Hi, Steve!" she said loudly, probably for Grace's benefit.

"Hello, Lindsey--it's nice to see you."

"Come on in--Grace is around somewhere, and I know she's eager to get started."

"Thanks. What's a good place for us to work where we won't be in your way?"

"Oh, I thought the kitchen table would be a good spot. Lots of work gets done in the kitchen!"

Her eyes were dancing as she said this and I almost blushed. The prospect of working with Lindsey's beautiful daughter just a few steps from where I had enjoyed the mother so thoroughly was both thrilling and oddly embarrassing. As we walked into the kitchen, my eyes strayed from Lindsey's ass to the couch we were on the day before. She glanced over her shoulder, saw the direction of my gaze, and twitched her eyebrows provocatively.

I set my portfolio on the table and looked around for a moment. Grace's ridiculous silver backpack was on the floor between two chairs. The pond in the backyard was dark and chilly-looking under the overcast skies.

"Grace!" I heard from behind me. "Mr. Robertson is here!"

"Okaaaaayyy" came the distant response from upstairs.

"Can I get you a bottle of water again?" Lindsey asked.

"Please."

It was disconcerting to cover the sexual tension between us with such politeness, but it felt like the right thing to do. Her smile said she agreed.

Soft footsteps came down the stairs. Before Grace appeared, Lindsey gave my bicep a squeeze, grinned ironically, and whispered, "Good luck!" before leaving the room.

I stood by the table as Grace padded into the kitchen. She was barefoot and wearing her varsity soccer sweatpants and hoodie. Even though they concealed a lot of her body, she looked great. Her hair was caught up in a ponytail and her tanned skin set off her green eyes. Without a word of politeness or a trace of normal teenage self-consciousness, she pulled back a chair and curled herself into it and then looked up at me with a blank smile.

"Hi, Grace," I began.

"Hi!" she chirped, still smiling.

"Are you ready to tackle some Law and Gov again?"

"Oh, yeah. I really need to pass. My mom says I have to do whatever it takes, even if it means working really hard."

"That sounds like a good starting place," I told her reassuringly.

"Why don't we go over what you've done in Mrs. Day's class?" I suggested.

"Okay," she replied.

"Do you have your stuff here?" I asked, nodding at the backpack.

"Oh, yeah! I'll get my computer."

With that brilliant thought, she turned away from me and reached down to open the backpack. That motion pulled her sweatpants tight across her perfectly-shaped ass and also caused her hoodie to ride up to her ribcage, revealing a swatch of creamy, tan skin. My eyes snapped open and my mind raced as I imagined it going higher--was she wearing anything under those sweats?

When she extracted the laptop, she set it on the table, opened it, and unlocked the screen. As it came to life, I had a wonderful lecherous thought.

"Grace...you're going to need your history textbook, too."

"Okay!"

That gained me another long look at her ass and I could just make out the impression of a thong across the top of her hips. There were certainly no panty lines except for that which made my heart thump. I also tilted my head to see a little more of her front, but the sweatshirt did not gape far enough to allow me much of a view. All too soon, the moment passed and she turned back, setting the book beside her computer.

For about 20 minutes, I focused back on the job at hand. We reviewed the abysmal scores she had earned so far. I made some notes about things that were missing. Once we were up to date, I praised her a little bit just for motivation.

"It looks like you did some of these assignments better this time around!" I told her, trying my best to keep a straight face.

"Oh, good!" she responded, not really clear on what I was talking about, but pleased anyway.

"How about we take a whack at some of the missing assignments? I know Mrs. Day will give you partial credit for late work...that will help a lot since those things are in as zeroes right now. That really tanks your average, so if you could get even 30 or 40 points back, your grade would go up a lot."

"Okay. Should I do them now?"

I sighed internally. "Yes, I think that would be best." Then inspiration struck me: "Why don't you grab your notebook and something to write with and you can do the 1st Amendment paragraph right now."

Another glorious view of Grace's ass rewarded my strategy, and this time I saw the lacy edge of her thong peeping over her waistband. The long muscles of her back flexed under her tawny skin as she burrowed into her backpack for a pen and paper and I grinned to myself in voyeuristic pleasure. There were definitely some compensations to this assignment!

When she sat back up, I went back into professional mode. "Okay. Now call up the assignment on the computer so you can see what you need to do." I waited while she fumbled through Google Classroom--how had she survived 4 years of computer-based learning, I wondered. "Now open up your textbook to the very start of Chapter 4 so you can look at the actual text of the Amendment while you're working."

She did as I asked. Sentence by sentence, I read the assignment to her and made sure she knew what each part was asking. Then I waited while she laboriously wrote a sentence or two in response. A few times I had to point her to the correct part of the Amendment--she would start to quote the wrong section--and I started to understand just how limited she was. Some of my frustration melted away, replaced by compassion. I also had the chance to admire the delicate line of her jaw, the sensual bow of her lips, and the sweet scent of her shampoo as I hovered beside her. She really was a beautiful young woman.

When she finished, I glanced at my watch and saw we had a few minutes left. Yeesh! Thirty-five minutes for one simple homework assignment! Since there was no time to get anything else finished, I had her look over the day's homework on Google Classroom and showed her the section of the textbook she was supposed to read. After that, I zipped up my portfolio and told her again she had done a nice job.

"I think this is the best strategy for right now, Grace. We can work on getting some old work done and try to stay on top of the new ones, okay?"

"Okay," she said vacantly.

After a long pause, I continued: "Well, that's it for today. I'll see you next Tuesday, okay?"

"Okay...bye!" she said with a smile. Then she picked up her phone and wandered off toward the stairs. I watched her go, torn between admiring her ass and kicking it for her lack of appreciation.

As I was zipping up my coat, Lindsey appeared from another room.

"How was it?" she asked.

"She did well." I quickly explained the whole missing-work idea, which she understood and appreciated.

"Did she get any done?" she wanted to know.

"She did. The First Amendment paragraph from a few weeks ago is written, and if she turns it in tomorrow, Mrs. Day will give her at least some credit."

"That's great. I hope she was appreciative!"

I paused, then began to reply. "Well..."

"Oh, that little snot!" she snarled. "She has no clue sometimes when people are trying to help her!"

"I think that's a pretty normal thing for teenagers," I said moderately.

"Still. Did she even thank you?"

"Since you ask, no...she just kind of grabbed her phone and wandered upstairs."

"Oh, my god!" she said with exasperation. "I will definitely be talking to her about that!"

We walked toward the front door together, and as we got into the spacious foyer, she stepped in front of me, blocking my progress.

"Grace may have no manners," she said, looking directly into my eyes, "but I know when someone is trying to help, and I appreciate it!"

With that, she stood on tiptoe and kissed me. My arms went around her quite naturally and our tongues teased each other as her body molded itself into mine. The kiss stretched on and on, but when my hand reached down to cup her ass, she pulled back and raised her eyebrows.

"Hey, mister teacher...this is NOT a motivational day!"

She was smiling when she said it, fortunately. I let go of her supple little behind and grinned back.

"That was a nice thank you, then!" I said gallantly, relaxing my grip on her slender form.

"Grace can thank you herself in the future."

"Fair enough," I agreed. "I think we found a pattern that might work."

"Can you work with her again on Monday?" Lindsey asked, stepping back and resuming her more businesslike aspect.

"Yes, that would be fine."

"Great. See you then!"

"Have a good weekend," I said as she closed the door. She smiled and nodded.

As I crunched across the gravel back to my car, I took a deep breath, trying to release the excitement she had started in my body. As frustrating as Grace could be, the money was good AND the promise of future motivational visits with her mom was very...appealing.

The weekend passed in a blur of house stuff and grading as it usually does. I was well-prepped for Monday's classes, and they went well, leaving me in a good mood all around. Once the school traffic had died down, I headed off to Grace's determined to keep her moving forward. When I got to the house, Lindsey greeted me at the door as she had before. I could see Grace sitting alone at the kitchen table, but before I could head back there, Lindsey grabbed my arm and pulled me out of sight to the side of the foyer.

"I hope it's okay, but I have to run to the store. I'll probably be back by the time you guys are done. Do you mind?"

It was unusual, but that kind of thing had happened before when I was tutoring someone at home. As long as the parents were okay with us being alone, it was not a big deal.

"That's fine," I told her evenly. "I'll just head back there and get started."

"Great!" she replied. "Oh," she added as she stepped back and opened the door, "and I had a long talk with Grace about being appreciative when someone is helping her out."

"Oh...well, thank you," I said as she let herself out.

The whole thing was a little odd, but I was grateful for the parental support. I made my way into the kitchen and said hello when I got close to the table. Grace turned to look at me, and I was shocked to see tears in her eyes. I set my portfolio aside and pulled out the chair I had used before.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly. What the hell had Lindsey said to her? I wondered.

Grace sniffed and nodded, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. When she looked back at me, I was struck by how angelically young she looked. I thought briefly of Demi Moore who always managed to look beautiful when she was crying.

"I'm okay," she said in a soft voice. "My mom just made me feel really bad, and I'm sorry that I was so rude and thoughtless when you were here the other day."

"Grace," I said reassuringly, "it's not a big deal. You're a kid, and you're doing extra work after school that you probably don't want to do, and I'm being well-paid to help you, so you don't have to worry about it. It would be nice to hear "thank you" and "goodbye" when I go, but really, you don't have to feel this badly!"

She nodded and sniffed again. Then she took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second, and then sat up a little straighter in her chair as she looked at me directly.

"Mr. Robertson, that was really nice of you to say. But I'm not a kid. I'm 18 years old. I'm an adult now. I'm about to go off to college. I'm really glad that you're helping me, and I know that I was a pain in your class last semester and I'm sorry."

I smiled and shook my head. "Grace...believe me. It's fine."

She shook her head in response. "No, it's not fine that I act like a spoiled little girl when I'm actually a very grateful grown-up woman trying to thank a man for helping her."

That was a very strange way to say thank you, and I paused for a moment to wrap my head around the implications. Grace did not pause, though. She stood up abruptly. Her calves nudged the chair back a foot behind her, and she turned her body toward me fully.

"Mom and I talked about this for a long time, and I know what will help me apologize."

With a determined look on her face, she stepped quickly toward me and lifted one leg across mine. With a rush of sweet feminine scent, she settled onto my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck.

"Grace!" I blurted out, "You don't have to do anything like this!"

"I know," she whispered, "but I talked to Mom about it," she began. Then her lips came forward and she kissed me very briefly. "And she told me it would be the best way." Another kiss. "And that you were a nice man who would never take advantage of me."

"This is taking advantage right now!" I said, pulling my face back from hers and trying to stand up. As much as I lusted after her all year, this was wrong on SO many levels.

Grace's hands locked onto the back of the chair, preventing me from standing up. Grinning a little bit, she wriggled in my lap and brought her face very close to mine.

"You are going to sit there and let me say thank you," she whispered. "No one will ever know from me, and this has nothing to do with school. This is about a woman saying thank you to a man the right way. Do you really have such a problem with that?"

I'm no dummy. Given Lindsey's "go-get-em" approach to the situation, I could easily see her convincing Grace that this was the only way to go. My only qualm was self-preservation, not morality. I had to be sure that Grace could keep a secret!

"Grace," I said in a low voice. "I'm totally willing to let you "thank" me however you want and whenever you want. I just want to know if it's your idea or your mom's, and if it's going to keep us from working together on the school stuff. And that no one will ever, ever know."

"It was her idea," Grace admitted, "but it feels right to me, and I like it. It actually kind of turns me on. I mean...I never thought of you like this when you were my teacher, but you were so nice and made me feel so good about the work that I did last time. And I would NEVER say anything to anyone! And I know I still have to do the work. But I would feel a lot better if you weren't just doing it for the money my mom gives you, but for me!"

That last part was 100% kid logic, but I was more than willing to play along.

"Okay," I said as I relaxed back into the chair. "I believe you, and whatever you're comfortable with is okay with me." What a gentleman! She had no idea of the ironic horniness behind that statement. To signal my willingness, I leaned forward and gave her a brief kiss to seal the bargain.

Much like her mother, Grace did not let that little kiss settle the matter. Her arms went back around my neck and she leaned her body against me. Her lips parted and I felt her tongue trace my lips briefly as I inhaled her sweet breath and the floral scent of her hair. My eyes closed with pleasure and my hands wrapped tightly around her. Our tongues met and hers darted playfully around mine.

I was disappointed when she broke the kiss, but very happy to still have a beautiful young woman sitting on my lap. I could feel her heat radiating through the soft fabric of her sweatpants and my hands settled down just below her waist so I could spread my fingers and caress the amazing little as I had been ogling for months.

"Mr. Robertson..." she giggled. "If you can stop playing with my ass for a minute, I want you to do something for me."

"Name it!" I said urgently.

"Could you help me take my sweatshirt off?" Her eyebrows arched inquisitively, her head cocked to one side, and she raised her arms straight up over her head.

Is there anything more beautiful? I asked myself as I gripped the waistband and pulled upward. I was tall enough to get it all the way up her arms in one steady motion, but I lost my concentration when her perfect breasts came into view and forgot to finish the move. She waited half a second and then dropped her arms to get rid of the sweatshirt, then draped them over my shoulders. I was in paradise! There was something more beautiful, and it was sitting on my lap fully exposed. Her dark hair framed her face, her beautiful lips were smiling at me sensually, and her glowing skin was revealed at last. Words flickered across my mind--silky--tawny--goddess-- young--firm--perky--gorgeous--lucky-- and I'm sure emotions flickered across my face ranging from awe to lust because Grace giggled again and savored my enjoyment with a knowing smirk.

Now I have no idea what Grace's experience level was, but she took charge again to move things along. Tucking her knees close to my hips, she raised up until her breasts were level with my face and leaned forward. I groaned with pleasure and latched on the same way I had done to her mother just days before. My lips locked around one pink areola and sucked hard while my hand came up to engulf the other one and roll the nipple gently back and forth. Grace gasped and I felt her back arch as she threw her chest forward and her head back in response.

"Oh, god yes!" she hissed.

When I switched sides, she cradled my head and kissed the top, pulling me close. After a minute, though, she sank back down, pulling her breasts away from the grip of my lips and fingers and settling herself firmly on my rock-hard cock. She kissed me once--briefly--to placate me and then let me know what was on her mind.

"I'm glad you like them so much!" she chirped, glancing down at her tight little nipples, both glistening with my saliva. "But remember--I'm supposed to be the one saying thank you."

I wasn't about to argue with her, so I nodded and smiled. Her hands came between us and unzipped my jacket, then pushed it back and lifted it off my shoulders. Just as it hit the floor, she impatiently tugged the front of my shirt out and set to work on my buttons. She had the same little frown of concentration she had worn when she struggled to write a paragraph last time, but in this moment it was erotic and thrilling, not annoying. When the buttons were done, she pushed my shirt open wide to bare my chest and then moved closer, draping her warm skin against my chest and stomach and laying her head on my shoulder.

"Thank you..." she whispered as she kissed my neck. "Thank you for helping me..." A quick kiss on my ear. "Thank you for working with me..." On my lips this time. "Thank you."

With the suppleness of youth, she slid her knees wider until they were off the chair, balancing herself on her thighs with her legs spread wide across my lap. Her next kiss landed on my collarbone.

"Thank you..." she whispered as she slid herself backwards and kissed my sternum. Her belly was resting on my knees as she moved lower and I parted my feet to make room for her.