The following week rolled around and I was scheduled to see Grace Tuesday and Thursday. She was still behind in her Law and Government class, and my plan was to help her get caught up as soon as possible. Hopefully, she would be done with missing work by the time the first $1500 ran out. My goal after that was continuing to work with her, but shifting gears to keep her current as she moved forward. I cringed a little bit internally when I thought about it, though. Grace was really weak academically, and despite her good looks, the memory of the wonderful blowjob she had given me, and the ongoing sexual relationship with her mother Lindsey, it was a struggle to teach her. Still, I admitted wryly to myself, it was totally worth it!
When I got to the house on Tuesday, no one answered the door. I knocked a couple of times, then rang the bell. Like any good employee, I checked my email quickly to see if there was a message explaining the problem. Nothing. Just as I was cursing quietly and getting ready to leave, I heard a revving engine and the crunch of gravel. A white Audi was whipping around the curves of the driveway leaving a cloud of dust in the cold air behind. As it got closer, I heard and felt the bass rumbling of a powerful stereo cranked all the way up. It HAD to be Grace! I stood in the entryway and watched as it slid to a stop inches from the middle door of the garage. The engine stopped and in the sudden silence, she popped out the far side and spotted me over the roof of the car.
"Hi Mr. Robertson!" she chirped. "Sorry I'm late...I had to meet with my math teacher."
With that, she ducked into the passenger seat to grab her backpack and phone, then trotted across the driveway toward me.
"That's okay," I said as I watched her lithe young body move.
She was going just fast enough to cause her supple C-cup breasts to bounce slightly beneath the inevitable hoodie she wore. When she stepped past me to punch in the door code, I caught a whiff of her floral shampoo and was transported back to the moment she sat on my lap and kissed me as a prelude to her "thank-you" blowjob the week before.
"You know," I said as we settled ourselves into our usual chairs for tutoring, "it might be a good idea if I gave you my phone number so you can let me know you're running late, or I can text you if I get stuck at school."
Grace reflexively grabbed her phone and turned toward me. Then she paused, raised her eyebrows, and smirked at me with a sparkle in her eyes.
"That was pretty smooth, Mr. R--I don't usually give out my number that quickly!"
"Grace," I said with a sigh, "I was just..."
"Oh, I get it!" she chirped smugly. "You were JUST thinking of texting me...late at night...".
"Grace," I said more sternly. "I know what you said about being an adult the other day, but I would NEVER..."
"Never what? Never text a student? Never let one sit on your lap and kiss you? Never..."
"Okay--I surrender!" I blurted before she listed all my sins.
She grinned smugly, knowing she had won that round. This was a side of her I'd never seen before--sharp and sassy and teasing and...smart?
"What's your number?" she asked in a more normal tone, still smiling at me.
I told her and she punched it in, thumbs flying. A second later, my phone dinged in my jacket pocket and I reached down to add her contact. When I tapped the notification, though, an image popped up. My eyes flicked up to Grace's and saw her eyebrows raised in anticipation. Then I looked back down and studied the picture. It was Grace, of course, but not the Grace I usually saw in school. She was standing in front of a crystal-blue ocean somewhere looking tanned and happy. Her hair was sun-streaked and tousled and she wore a pouty half-smile as she gazed right into the lens. Best of all, she was wearing a black bikini top that displayed her high, round breasts. Her shoulders....
"I guess you like it!" Grace said quietly, watching my face as I drank in her picture.
I snapped back to reality. "God, yes...it's beautiful. You're beautiful! I just can't..." I trailed off.
"I know," she said. "But you can save my number. Maybe someday after I graduate I can send you another one as a thank-you present!"
I added Grace as a contact, then reluctantly deleted the picture.
After that, we got down to work on the missing 4th Amendment questions. The image of Grace's body glowing in the sun haunted me now and then, and I was more than usually distracted by her nearness. I played my usual games by having her take things out of her backpack as she needed them and admiring the agile stretch of her body and the sweet curves of her ass. For the most part, however, I tried to keep my mind on business and education. Really, I tried.
Fifty minutes later, she had cobbled together answers for most of the questions. It was a little sad that she couldn't just read the textbook and find them--they were RIGHT there, after all, and many of them were in bold type. It took a lot of leading questions to get her to focus on the right idea and say it simply. I had very little hope for her future academic success, but I was determined to do what I could and help her move forward.
Somewhere deep in the house, a clock chimed four times. I rested my hand on her shoulder and told her she'd done a good job. She smiled shyly, grateful for the praise. After she had put her books away, she stood up and faced me.
"Thanks again for helping me," she said politely.
"I'm glad to do it, Grace. You're making good progress."
"I wouldn't be if you weren't here," she replied in a quiet voice. "This stuff is so hard for me."
"You'll get it. Mrs. Day is a good teacher."
"No," she interrupted. "YOU'RE a good teacher. So thank you!"
With that, she smiled happily, then stepped close and stood on tiptoe to give me a quick peck on the lips. Her breasts just barely grazed my chest while her hands rested lightly on my shoulders. She stayed close for a moment, giving me another whiff of her hair, and then whispered "thank you" again and settled back to where she had been.
It was nothing truly sexual, but that soft kiss was thrilling all the same. Considering what had happened between us, it was completely understandable that the boundaries were blurred a little, but the small part of me that was still trying to be professional had to intervene.
"Grace," I said seriously, "we talked about this. I want you to be appreciative, but you don't have to do anything...like you did before, or even like what you just did to say thank you."
"I know!" she said smugly in a quiet voice. "But sometimes I want to."
She picked up her phone and pushed her chair in, waiting for me to collect my portfolio and put on my jacket. My mind was whirling with the implications of that last sentence. Instead of bringing my thoughts out in the open, though, I gestured for her to precede me to the door. Even in my confused state, I still took the opportunity to admire the swiveling ass in front of me.
"So I'll see you on Thursday, right?" I mumbled as I stepped outside.
"Right. I'll try not to be late because I have a lacrosse meeting again."
"Okay...I'll see you then."
"Bye!"
She closed and locked the door as I turned to crunch across the gravel. The cold air bit into my lungs as I breathed deeply. How was this naive and somewhat dim young woman able to fluster me so much? Why did I ever let her go down on me? Why did she smell so damn good all the time? With these unprofitable thoughts buzzing in my head, I made my way home through the heavy rush-hour traffic.
As I was eating dinner that night, my phone dinged. Grumbling, I set aside my pasta and reached across the table for it. Oh, great, I thought to myself...it was Grace.
"Hey!" she wrote. "My mom wanted to talk to you so I gave her your number. Thanks again!"
"No problem," I responded.
I finished my meal and was packing the rest of the pasta for lunch on Wednesday when I heard another text notification. This time it was Lindsey.
"Hey teacher man! Why are you texting my daughter? Don't you think that's a little inappropriate?"
The truthful sting of her words was mitigated by the laughing emoji she added at the end.
