Teacher's Pet

Editor's note: this fictional work contains scenes of completely fictional incest or fictional incest content.

*****

This is the last chapter in the Teacher's Pet series. It took a long time to write. In fact, I wrote two entire versions and threw both out before settling on this one. The first and third installments in the series were very well received (thank you), so I wanted to finish with something I thought would be worthy of the initial story. It is long, so if you're looking for a quick fix this isn't it.

As always, all characters are at least 18.

Teacher's Pet, Chapter Four—Final Exams

Part One: Changes in Attitude, Changes in Latitude

Landrie's letter opened and the thumb drive within it skittered across the kitchen floor. My hands were shaking, and I was breathing hard, far harder than a short run from the mailbox into the house should have caused.

Why am I acting like this?

I wondered.

Because she could be the one, fool! No, because you want her to be the one and you're afraid you've screwed it up.

The small plastic fob fell so close to the heating register that if I mishandled it again it might be lost to the HVAC system forever, so I slowed down to gather my wits before extracting it. I didn't dare believe that it could be another hot Landrie thumb drive of the kind I'd gotten the summer before, but I was bereft of any other explanation. My cock cast its' own vote, rising in my shorts until it was uncomfortably trapped.

The arrival of the thumb drive seemed so inconsistent with Landrie's last words to me. She had told me, "I need get away from home permanently" which I interpreted, accurately I think, as "including you." I had not heard from her since she uttered those words and had concluded that there was nothing to do but be strong, move on with my life, and hope that on reflection she'd understand that I was a bearer of bad news, not its creator.

The bad news was that her sister Susie had threatened to expose what she thought she knew about our relationship. Susie was in deep shit, as usual, and in bad need of leverage. Since then Susie had been sanctioned for having sex with three teachers in the high school boiler room but said nothing about her suspicions concerning a relationship between Landrie and me.

I took a few minutes to make sure all my doors were securely locked, then went to the basement, attached the drive to my laptop, and my laptop in turn to the big screen TV. As usual, the index showed that the thumb drive contained an MP3 file, but this one was oddly labeled: "Introduction to Macroeconomics-101." Why would Landrie send me field notes from class? I turned on the laptop and called up the video.

It opened into a small room with an equally small desk in its center, with one chair on each side of it. A smallish rectangular overhead window behind Landrie let light into the room. Landry had filmed it late in the afternoon or early in the evening--the window behind her was growing dark. I put it all together and realized that she was most likely in one of the Stanford libraries using a study cubby set up for students.

She was as stunning as always. Jet black hair, clear, tanned skin, catlike green eyes, perfect lips, high cheekbones, taut, athletic figure. But the allure Landrie held for me was based on much more physical attraction. This was a smart, caring, kind, upbeat, in-control woman, always with a plan, but also with a molten sexual persona running just below the surface.

"Hey, it's me," she began with a hesitant smile. She ran her left hand nervously through her rumpled, glossy hair. She looked tired, unsurprising given how close she was to finals. Her eyes were, nonetheless, full of energy and mischief, and her full pouting lips still begged for a good kiss. She wore an off-red thin ribbed tank top with "Stanford Cheer" on the front, her participation in that activity a condition of her scholarship.

The camera was positioned across the room, aimed at her from a slight "up to down" angle, probably seated on a shelf with something. Landrie was braless and Stanford clearly kept their libraries as cold as those I'd attended at KU, because her perfect slightly upturned nipples were rock hard and threatened to cut right through the front of the thin shirt. My mind immediately gravitated to the summer before and the way those same lovely nubs felt in my mouth.

"I suppose this might be a little unexpected, all things considered, but...well..., I realized that I owe you an apology," she began. "So...consider this a...different...kind of apology. I wasn't exactly... cordial when we ended our last talk and I realized that I had hurt someone I cared about a great deal, when none of what he was telling me was his fault.

All I can say in my defense is that I've had years of inheriting crap from Susie, and there you were, presenting the thousandth version of it. There never has been a situation she's gotten into where she couldn't find a way to blame me. So, hearing it from you just opened a bunch of very old, deep wounds and I'm sorry I blamed you.

Maybe something good came from it. Susie called me about the thing... can you believe that? She told me what she'd done, very straight, very factual. Said she didn't regret the sex or even where she did it, but she did regret who she'd had it with and the consequences for them. Surprisingly, she didn't fault you for ratting her out. She seemed to understand that you had to do what you did. The biggest surprise of all? She asked me what I would do to fix things.

I don't think I have ever been more stunned in my life, we... just... don't share like that, and she's never shown the least tendency to be accountable for anything she has done. I didn't know what to say at first, so I just listened. I asked her a few questions to gauge her mood, then told her to do what she seemed to want to do anyway--make amends the best she could—to everyone.

I felt a little like a hypocrite. I mean...there was only about six months difference between what you and I did and what she did...and I guess..." she said laughing, "we didn't do it on school grounds..., and I wasn't in high school anymore, and I didn't do it with three guys at once, and not with two married guys and one engaged," she finished, laughing.

"So...now that you think about it, the two are very different. Anyway, she called me back a while later and told me how she handled it. I was proud of her for the first time in a long time, and I told her so. We followed up and talked for almost three hours while I was on my trip down to USC for the game. It was the single best conversation I've ever had with her in my life, and I'm sure she feels the same way. We got our asses kicked the next day, but the talk with Susie was the highlight of the weekend. I'll tell you some more about that weekend when I get home, but that needs to be face-to-face. It turned out to be a big one, a formative one.

I may shoot myself later for saying this, but for the first time in my life I feel like I have a real, honest-to-God sister. You may be the one to thank for that, and I'll get to that in a second, but first there's something more important that you need to know.

You were right when you guessed that Susie had been holding onto something for a long time. I had to tease it out of her. You must keep this confidential. If you were to let on to Susie that I've told you, she'd feel betrayed, and it would destroy the trust we've started to build. But you need to know. You've got her in class, and she looks up to you, though she'd never admit it, and I think it will help you cut her a little slack when she gets out of hand—which, of course, she will.

Uncle Eddie raped her when she was just thirteen. Yeah, you heard me right. Raped her. Rape rape. And he didn't do it just once. He kept doing it. Worse, the manipulative old shit goaded her into believing that it was her fault—that she had brought it on by the way she dressed, the way she looked, that she wanted it. She's out of that and hates him now with the heat of a thousand suns, but he's family and that makes it awkward.

I'm not sure just yet what to do with this. When she told me, I felt so stupid and guilty. I still do. How on earth could I have missed the change in her? How could I have been so unapproachable that she couldn't bring it to me? Years ago? It gave me the shivers knowing that when I was in the barn where I found his porn stash I was within feet of where the rape happened, maybe right where it happened.

Then the thought hit me, "has the old bastard turned us both screwy?" When you think about it, stealing part of his porn stash lit up my sex life for the first time. My textbooks for sex were all his incredibly tawdry, forbidden fruit old novellas. I suppose I was lucky that I was older than Susie when I first got into it. At least I had some background and perspective. It turned my stomach when I heard it, and it still does every time I think about it. It comes back to me at odd times, like when I'm walking to class or putting my books away. Any pause in the day and there it is, barking at me.

Anyway, I told her that there was only one thing to do—turn his ass in and put him behind bars. At first, I threatened to do it if she didn't, but she talked me out of that. It's her call and she's hesitant. She has good reason to handle it differently if she wants. She's waited years to complain, and she doesn't have a pristine reputation around town, especially now with the thing at school, and people are so judgmental. So, there's a risk that they just wouldn't believe her and decide not to prosecute. Unfortunately, she thinks there's a risk that the family might side with Eddie and, as much as I hate to admit it, she's right.

If that happened, it would destroy her. She'd leave the family behind, and I wouldn't blame her, but it would set her adrift for the rest of her life.

I didn't mean to get into something so heavy, but I thought you deserved to know. Susie won't ever tell you this, and she'll keep on acting like you're a shit just for appearances sake, but she thinks the world of you. It isn't so much anything she said overtly, it's just the way her voice gets when she talks about you and how you handle her. She needed a "no bullshit" drill sergeant for a long time.

You're maybe the first adult male who has been important to her in a long time who didn't want to screw her. Well...I guess you did...do...well, you know, sorta do want to... but you've managed to put that aside and treat her like a real person instead of the tramp she carried herself as. So, she respects you. Just don't expect her to admit it.

So.... now, it set me to thinking," she said grinning, 'how do I make it up to the man I care most about in the world? How do I tell him that I'm thinking about him, perhaps even a little too much sometimes?' Well, I thought, I can make a little gift to my former history teacher to set things right. Would you like a little gift, Mr. Stevens?"

Landrie's use of "Mr. Stevens" was code that she would make "dirty little girl" talk, the audible equivalent of putting on a school uniform then peeling it off bit by bit until I was openly panting. I grew more erect within seconds of hearing the phrase, so clearly did it signal an upcoming sexual treat. Pavlov's history teacher I am, I suppose.

"Since I'm taking an introduction to Macroeconomics, I thought an inspirational reading of my textbook might show you how well I'm adapting to my studies, and to the environment here at Stanford. I'm here in a study cubby in the library, so I'm going to have to be quiet or the old ladies who run the place will come by and shush me. I think you'll find the content very, very stimulating. Does that sound nice Mr. Stevens?"

I stared blankly at the film, wondering where this was heading.

"An introduction to Macroeconomics by Paul Hamilton," Landrie announced without further ado, and began to read. Landrie's behavior offered no immediate answers to my puzzlement. She dipped her head down and began to read from the heavy textbook in front of her with feeling. She spread her hands on either side of the massive book and began in a simple but clear and precise monotone. In one of the oddities of perception, I noticed that she'd painted her fingernails several different colors.

"An introduction to Economics, Chapter three, Economic Process. We began to examine the basic concepts of scarcity, choice, and opportunity cost in economics," she began.

"In this section, we will look at economics as a field of study. We begin with the characteristics that distinguish economics from other social sciences.

Economists study choices that scarcity requires us to make....

"This fact is not what distinguishes economics from other social sciences; all social scientists are interested in choices. An anthropologist might study the choices of ancient peoples; a political scientist might study the choices of legislatures; a psychologist might study how people choose a mate; a sociologist might study the factors that have led to a rise in single-parent households. Economists study such questions as well. What is it about the study of choices by economists that makes economics different from these other social sciences?"

Landrie's right hand came up to her nose, she drew it across her eyebrow, and giggled, then returned to her reading.

"Three features distinguish the economic approach to choice from the approaches taken in other social sciences:

1. Economists give special emphasis to the role of opportunity costs in their anaaaaallysis of choices," she uttered, her distraction from the text apparent.

2. Economists assume that individuals make choices that seek to maaaax-i-mize the value of some objective, and that they define their objectives in terms of their own self-interest, which we call individual utility."

Landrie's hand returned to her face, at first framing it, then rubbing her index finger across her lips, then she stopped to catch it between her teeth and bit down on it lightly. She rocked back in her chair, closed her eyes for a moment, then leaned forward again to continue.

I stopped the film and ran it back to the beginning and noticed that when Landrie began reading, her right hand moved beneath the table, and she tapped or gripped something. I ran it back and watched it again. Yes, she had. The second time through I noticed that a buzzing sound started just after her hand moved. Whoa!! Now I understood, the little vixen was no longer in the safety of her bedroom or dorm room while filming. She had brought a vibrator to the library and was masturbating there. The force was strong in this one.

"Individuals maximize individual utility by deciding whether to do a little more or a little less of something. Economists argue that individuals pay attention to the consequences of small changes in the levels of the activities they pursue.

The emphasis economists place on opportunity cost, the idea that people make choices that maximize the value of objectives that serve their self-interest...oh dear... Oh, oh... ooooohhh, oooohh, and a focus on the effects of small ch-chhh...changes are ideas of greeeaaat powerrrrr. Yes...yess indeed... oh...yes...yessss... like that... like that... like that a lottt... yessss... they constitute the core of economic thinking. The next three sections examine these ideas in greater detail.

Landrie's hands patted each side of the book several times, and she stopped reading entirely, lowering her head until it touched the book. I could not tell if she had orgasmed or was just fighting to get back under control. Raising back up, her left hand went again to her forehead and swiped across it. She looked up nervously at the door to her cubby. It then dawned on me that there were always windows into the stacks in these little rooms, so Landrie was masturbating herself in a near-public place. It was routine for students to walk by and peer into the rooms to see if they contained a friend or the person with whom they'd arranged to study alongside. There could be a dozen such during her masturbation session.

"Opportunity Costs Are Important, she continued, undaunted by the risk.

"If doing one thing requires giving up another, then the expected benefits of the alternatives we face will affect the ones we choose. Economists argue that an understanding of opportunity cost is crucial to the examination of choices.

As the set of available alternatives changes, we expect that the choices individuals make will change. A rainy day could change the opportunity cost of reading a book; we might expect more reading to get done in bad than in good weather. A high income can make it very costly to take a day offffff... off... oh, oh, oh shitttttt....; we might expect highly paid individuals to work more hours than those who, whoooo, whoooo ooohhhh ah, ahhh, aaaaaahhhhhh, ahhhh, fuckkkk fuckk...are not paid as well. If individuals are maximizing their level of satisfaction and firms are maximizing profits, then a change in the set of alternatives they face may affect their choices in a predictable way."

She put her hands on either side of the book again and her fingers clenched and unclenched several times before she threw her head back, exposing her muscular neck and causing her nipples to raise up against her thin shirt. Dear God, she was so beautiful. I was harder than iron.

Her head sagged for only a moment, then she looked up, not at the book, but directly into the camera—at me. Her eyes were glassed over in lust and her lower lip quivered until she bit it, as if to try and put out the fire in her crotch by adding pain. Staring at me, she extended the tip of her tongue to the upper corner of her mouth and ran it slowly and across her upper lip, where it faltered some before disappearing back into her mouth, as though her body held too much electricity and the overage caused her motor to sputter. She returned to the book.

I hit the stop, leaned back and ran both hands through my hair. Good God! How was it possible for me to forget, even for a moment, how insanely hot this young woman was? She had just turned me into Jello, not with a show of forbidden flesh or with a wanton erotic display like the dildo in her ass during our facetime call, but just with a simple gesture of unplanned sensuality.

She looked down at the book and began again, more haltingly this time, "the emphasis on opp....oppp...opportunity costs is an emphasis on the examinaaaaation of alternatives. One benefit of the economic way of thinking is that it puuuuushes us to think about the value of alternatives in each problem involving choice. Ah, ahhh yes,yes....oh...ohhh....this is really, really good....not yet, not yet, not yet!" she muttered, her head bowed, her right hand hitting the book several times.

Returning to her she looked up and said to the camera, "this is the important part, right here. Can't muck this up.

Individuals Maximize in Pursuing Self-Interest

What motivates people as they make choices? Perhaps more than anything else, it is the economist's answer to this question that distinguishes economics from other fields."

The door to the cubby opened and Landrie's head flew up. The camera lens shook a little, causing the video to do the same. Someone had entered the room and slammed the door, causing the shelf and the camera sitting on it to shake.

Now this is hilarious, I thought. She can't make a move towards the vibrator, or she gives it away, and yet...it's sitting there working on her clit while whoever this is talks to her.

"Hey, found you!" a girlish voice said brightly.

"Hey yourself," Landrie replied erratically, the fire in her loins temporarily doused by the unexpected intrusion.