Please note that these are fictional characters, but they are both consenting adults. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental.
*
It was Rose's senior year of high school, the summer after she turned 18, and she was challenging herself with advanced classes while also starring in the school's production of The Princess and The Pea. The Friday before hell week, she walked into Mr. Whitlock's room after rehearsal because he said he wanted to talk to her about an assignment she'd turned in. The school was empty, even the most dedicated students having finally called it quits by the time her rehearsal finished at 9:30 pm.
"Ah, Ms. Stone. Please, come sit." Mr. Whitlock looked up from his laptop and gestured to the seat next to him, so Rose crossed the room and sat. "Now, it seems that you're struggling to grasp the insidious nature of what you might consider peer pressure, and how it can cause people to do something they might not otherwise do."
"Uh, yes. I mean, I don't care how many times the cheerleaders tell me parting my hair on the side isn't 'in' anymore, I look goofy with a middle part." Rose offered a personal example which elicited a chuckle from Mr. Whitlock, and Rose grinned. She'd always liked Mr. Whitlock; he was young, had a sharp sense of humor, and, Rose thought to herself, he was quite handsome when he smiled.
"In cases like that, it's easy enough to resist a little pressure. But when you're in a situation where mob mentality kicks in, or where there are certain expectations for your behavior, it can be harder to pull free of the crowd, or those expectations." Rose lifted a brow skeptically, so Mr. Whitlock continued. "Alright, I can see that you're unconvinced." He leaned back in his chair with his hands locked behind his head, trying to find a good example to help the young woman in front of him understand.
"Have you ever been to a party?" he finally asked, aware of Rose scrutinizing him while trying to look like she wasn't. He pushed his chair out a bit and turned it to face her.
"I may have been to one or two," Rose allowed, a grin tugging at her lips.
"Excellent. Did they ever involve party games, like Spin the Bottle or Truth or Dare?" inquired Mr. Whitlock. Rose blushed, remembering fleeting kisses shared in front of classmates, or, sometimes, intimate touches stolen in the privacy of a nearby closet.
"I've played a few games, yes." Rose's cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, and she found herself avoiding eye contact with him. "But, Mr. Whitlock, I don't see how that's similar to the situation in the reading we just did."
"Let's drop the formalities, Rose. Please, call me Callum. Now, when you played Truth or Dare, for instance, what happened if someone chose 'dare,' but then wouldn't follow through once they heard the dare?" Rose pulled her chair away from the table and turned to face her teacher head-on.
"They were usually allowed to change and pick 'truth' instead, Mr....Callum." Rose corrected herself.
"Your friends are nicer than mine were, then. Isn't there any teasing, laughing, cajoling?" Callum asked, grinning broadly.
"I mean, sure." Rose conceded.
"Aha! And does anyone cave to the pressure and fulfill a dare that they initially refused?" Callum continued. Rose hesitated, remembering a friend who had backed out of a dare to kiss her crush, only to be teased into it.
"Maybe. But it seemed like the people who did kind of wanted to go along with the dare but felt like they had to pretend to protest before they gave in." Rose responded.
"That's a kind of pressure in and of itself, isn't it?" Callum winked, then continued, "You're still not swayed by my argument, are you? Perhaps we should try a more hands-on scenario?" He lifted an eyebrow, a glint in his eye that Rose noticed but didn't fully register. She nodded her assent, curious to know what kind of demonstration of mob mentality he'd be able to come up with in an empty school.
"Wonderful! Simon says 'touch your nose'." Callum challenged, and Rose let out a startled giggle before touching her nose. "Alright, Simon says 'stop'. Simon says..." Callum's voice trailed off as he considered a new challenge. "Simon says, 'go to a new room.'"
Rose's eyebrows knitted together as she pondered briefly before she stood and left the room, walking briskly. Callum followed casually, his long legs carrying him farther in a single stride than the petite Rose could manage. He caught himself admiring the bounce of her dark curls as she walked in front of him, then let his gaze fall, taking in the sway of her hips as her skirt swung loosely just below her knees.
"Ok, we're in a new room!" Rose proclaimed, opening the door to the darkened theatre. "Now what?"
Arms akimbo, she looked up into his face with an expression that made it clear she was humoring him. Callum took a swift, deep breath, momentarily caught off guard by her direct gaze. He searched the room, his eyes landing on the stage, lit only by a ghost light, which shone on piles of mattresses set up for the play.
"Simon says, 'go on stage'." Callum's voice was a little rough, and Rose had an inkling about the gleam in his green eyes. She preceded him up the access stairs and onto the stage, hesitating as she approached the mattresses.
"Sit down." Callum said. Rose remained standing, looking at him, and was amused to see consternation play on his face. Callum cleared his throat and chuckled, embarrassed to have been so caught up in his appreciation of her figure that he forgot the game. He tried again.
"Simon says, 'sit down'." His voice almost normal again, he watched as Rose selected a mattress that was on a platform nearby and sat, smoothing her skirt over her knees. She raised her eyes to meet his, and despite the dim light, he noticed a faint pink flush creeping across her chest and up her cheeks.
"Callum?" Rose prompted, waiting for his next command. Rose had definitely put a name to the look in Callum's eye; it was a look she was used to getting from the boys at the parties she'd been to, almost hungry, and decidedly eager. She tilted her head as she leaned back onto her hands, her knees together.
"Right. Um, maybe you should be Simon for a turn." Callum was flustered, and he turned from her to try to gather his thoughts. He was in his first year of teaching, only 5 years older than Rose. He hoped to teach for many more years, but Rose was deeply alluring, and it had been some time since he'd been intimate with a woman.