I.
My final week of community college passed by like a dream. It felt as if my life was a roller coaster, reaching a new plateau that was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying . And at the helm was Miss Amber. In spite of, or perhaps because of her extreme measures, I was utterly entranced by her. She was only just beginning to fulfill my fantasies, and it was all I could think about. It was a miracle I passed any of my classes.
But it was also more than that. In the short time that I'd known her she had exposed me, coaxed me into doing things I had never done before, and I was starting to become aware of the effect these experiences were having on me.
While I was still nervous about giving my speech, the heavy cloud of existential dread that normally hung over me was noticeably subdued. I certainly wouldn't say I was looking forward to it, but I decided I would follow Miss Amber's advice and make a conscious effort to prepare. I treated it for what it was: something that I didn't want to do, but had to. And whenever I started to doubt myself, which happened often, I thought back to that moment where she was touching me, her voice inches away from my ear, telling me what I needed to hear.
The morning of my final speech was abnormally hot and humid, as if reality itself was mocking the slow cooking anxiety within me. My stomach was rolling, sapping away my normally healthy appetite, but I forced myself to eat breakfast, knowing I would need the energy. All of my attention was spent practicing, going over the speech in my head, my focus only interrupted by periodic thoughts of Miss Amber to encourage me.
Just as I was getting in my car to leave, my phone alerted me to an incoming text, and just as I'd hoped, it was from Miss Amber.
"Good luck Jake! I know you can do it. We'll celebrate later tonight ;) - Miss A.
Reading this made my heart rate double. Obviously the promise of more private time with Miss Amber got me excited, but I also appreciated that she was cheering me on. It was so simple, but that single text invigorated me and made a world of difference in how I carried myself that day.
Later, sitting in my desk, butterflies fluttering in my stomach as the teacher asked for volunteers, I realized that I wanted this day to be over. I thought back to Miss Amber and her text, and how much I wanted to be with her. Without thinking I threw my hand in the air, and seconds later I was facing the entire class, their disinterested, tired eyes facing back, and for fifteen minutes, with the aid of a power point I had carefully assembled days earlier, I blathered on about the environment and global warming. To my surprise I held myself better than I thought I would, and suddenly it was over as quickly as it had begun. The class rewarded my efforts with a polite obligatory applause, and as I sat back down in my desk, and the teacher called for a next willing victim, I pulled my phone out to take another quick look at Miss Amber's text, relief washing over me.
II.
I was practically skipping my way into the library that afternoon, the searing midday heat an afterthought to my newfound peace of mind. I felt weightless, almost like a feather. And with a planned night with Miss Amber to look forward to, I was in especially high spirits. And she could tell.
"Well look who survived," said Miss Amber as I plopped down next to her at the desk. "I take it your speech went well?"
"Well enough," I said. "I'm just happy it's over."
"See, it wasn't so bad was it?"
"I guess. I was surprised how fast it went by."
She rested a hand on my knee. "I knew you had it in you," she said, smiling.
Miss Amber's touch ignited a memory, transporting me to days earlier, when a hapless patron unknowingly witnessed her pleasure me right there in that very spot, and suddenly an epiphany crossed my mind.
"Yeah," I said suspiciously, "it's almost as if being jerked off in front of a stranger makes talking in front of them seem tame in comparison."
Miss Amber's smile turned sly. "You catch on quick," she said, lightly tapping me on the nose.
"So that's what you were doing? Some sorta twisted trial by fire?"
"Extreme cases call for extreme measures," she said, a devilish gleam in her eyes.
For a few seconds we sat in silence, just looking at each other, getting a feel for where this revelation would take us next. She was dressed very casually, wearing a plain grey long sleeve with dark blue jeans, her hair up in a messy low bun. She looked enchanting in a homely sort of way.
As much as I enjoyed looking though, that was no longer enough. Being so close to Miss Amber so consistently made me want to touch her, to feel her, but up until this point she had always made the first move.
In that moment though I decided it was time for that to change.
I let my intentions be known, glancing down to her hands sitting nonchalantly in her lap, and her eyes followed, and when I looked back up she was there, inviting me with a smile, signaling me to reach out and take what she was offering.
"Thank you," I said as I held her, caressing her hands, taking in the feel of her smooth skin. She touched me back, and for a moment we sat in solitude, separated from the rest of the world, our fingers entangled.
But then she pulled away.
"Jake, you have no reason to thank me just yet," Miss Amber said suggestively.
"Is that so?" I replied back, trying to hide my disappointment with the brevity of our connection.
She stroked a finger across my cheek. "Sweetie, you have no idea."
"I have a few."
"Well look at you," she said half mockingly, "getting a little cocky already are we?"
This dirty talk was getting me hard, and she knew it. Her eyes glanced down to the growing bulge in my pants. "Don't get too excited now. You wouldn't wanna disappoint me tonight, would you?"
"Never," I blurted out confidently.
I don't know what came over me. For the briefest moment there were no doubts, no anxiety. It was the most assured of myself I had ever been in as long as I could remember, and it felt good.
A look of pleasant surprise flashed across Miss Amber's face, followed by that familiar hunger of hers. Without saying a word, she opened a drawer, pulled out a piece of scrap paper, and began writing something down. My heart was racing as she folded the paper neatly three times, pulled me in closer, and brushed her hand up my thigh before carefully placing it into my left jean pocket.
"Seven o'clock. My place. Got it?"
"Yes ma'am," I said, barely able to hold in my excitement.
"Good," she said. "That's all I need you for today. You can go shelve for the rest of your shift."
I sat there for a couple of seconds as Miss Amber began typing on her computer, no longer acknowledging my presence.
"Uh, ok, sure," I said as I got up to leave.
