Every time I passed his door I would start to sweat. I know he watched me as I walked by. I could feel his eyes burning into my skin. When sixth period rolled around I was always in a panic. My stomach would churn and my crotch would tingle just knowing that I would be in the same room with him for forty-five minutes. But he was my teacher for God’s sake!
How can I describe him? He was about six feet tall. The perfect height. He was about twenty-five. His eyes were the most remarkable blue I have ever seen. His hair was dark brown and wavy. He was the baseball coach and when he was in that uniform. . . . God I wanted him so bad! But he was my teacher.
Sixth period. Debate class. He said he wanted to know what made us tick. But every time he looked at me my heart stopped, my throat swelled and I couldn’t speak.
“The drinking age,” he announced one day. “The pro side will argue that the legal age should be twenty-one. The con side will argue that the legal age should be eighteen.” He divided the room in half. “Pro side first. Any volunteers?”
The debate went on and on. I couldn’t concentrate on the argument. I heard only the sound of his voice. His lovely voice. I doodled on my notebook.
“Miss Montgomery,” he said suddenly.
I sat up quickly. What had I missed? I stared blankly at him.
“What do you think of Mr. Waters’ argument that an eighteen-year-old is incapable of responsibly consuming alcoholic beverages?” he asked leaning slightly on my desk.
Did he know what he was doing to me being that close? How could I possibly respond with him standing just inches away? I could smell his cologne.
“Are you eighteen, Miss Montgomery?” he asked.
“N-no,” I stammered. “Not until graduation day.”
He thought for a moment. “So in roughly two weeks you’ll be eighteen. Do you think you’d be able to drink responsibly if that were the legal age in this state?”
“I don’t know,” I hesitated.
He touched my arm slightly. I hoped he couldn’t feel the shivers going through my body. His hand lingered on my arm. “Anyone care to help Miss Montgomery out?”
I was frozen for the rest of class. I couldn’t move. I could still feel his hand on my arm.
As I drove home past the baseball field I saw him talking to the opposing coach. His tight baseball pants over his muscular legs and butt. He looked in my direction but I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me.
I saw him walking down the hall a few days later. He had a walk that screamed confidence but not arrogance. He didn’t strut. He had a beautiful walk and I could imagine him in those tight baseball pants. He stopped to talk to someone and caught me looking at him. He smiled and I foolishly blushed and ran off.
I dreaded sixth period that day. How would I face him? I tried ducking into class quickly.
“Good afternoon, Miss Montgomery,” he smiled as I sneaked by.
I felt my face turn red. If he only knew what he was doing to me.
It was the last full day of school so we weren’t doing any work in the class. We were given free time to study for our finals. I, of course, couldn’t think about my finals. I was sitting in a classroom only fifteen feet from him.
I knew I had to get my act together. Concentrate on English, I told myself. But myself wanted to doodle his name over and over again. I even practiced signing my name as if we were married. Angela Bennett. Angela Montgomery Bennett. When the bell rang I grudgingly got up. I knew I wouldn’t see him again after this. I would graduate (if I could keep my mind on passing my tests) and go on to college. He would be here at school.
I couldn’t look at him as I walked out of the room but I could feel him staring at me. “Good luck on your finals, Miss Montgomery,” he said. I could only smile -- and blush.
I work in a grocery store and he came in to buy a six-pack of beer. He was wearing shorts and a tank top. Those muscular tanned shoulders and legs. His butt looked even better in shorts. He had been playing basketball and needed some refreshment, he said. He told me he thought we worked on commission when I asked him why he waited behind some lady with a two hundred dollar order instead of going through the express lane. And then he winked at me and flashed an amazing smile. My legs almost gave out on me.
A few nights later he was back in the store. He needed food in the house, he explained. He was expecting company. A lady, he confided. My heart sank. Why did he feel the need to tell me this? I didn’t want to know this. I frowned.
“Cheer up,” he told me. “Tomorrow night’s graduation.” Then he gave me that amazing smile again. “The first day of the rest of your life.”
To tell you the truth I wasn’t sure I had passed everything until I got to graduation and lined up with everyone else. I hadn’t been able to study. I had him on my mind and somehow English and math and history weren’t able to push through.
