The Seduction of Coach James

Fiction/interracial couple/older man/younger woman.

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Being the new girl at Montgomery High was quite a journey. My college professor dad/author was the acclaimed and rich Myles Everton. He had written 4 poetry books, 1 autobiography, and 11 fiction books by the time he was 42. He told my mom one day that he wanted a bigger house. So we moved from Ohio to Florida when I was 14.

Despite my dad's wealth, charisma, and popularity, this came at a price: he was a very absent father. Usually too busy writing or socializing or going to parties to hang out with me. Dinnertime was my moment to prove to him that I was a good kid, worthy of his attention and love.

After we moved, I channeled my anger at my dad to my academics and sports. (I joined the tennis team). For awhile, I was very talented. Despite my accomplishments, my dad still remained too busy to talk to me too much.

By the time I was 18, I had a very low amount of respect for my dad and I gave up trying to "win him over".

In the start of my senior year, my school gained a new professor and girls' tennis coach. Mr. Clarence James. He was white, lanky, with brown hair and brown eyes. Very nerdy. I was black, average looking, with black hair and brown eyes.

His first day as my new Psychology professor was a bit rough.

"My name's Mr. James, but you kids can call me CJ if you prefer," he announced.

One of my friends, Cynthia, laughed loudly.

At him. I shot her an evil glance-after all, Mr. James was kind of adorable. It was a bit strange, since he wasn't my normal type.

I usually crushed on guys closer to my age, but the crushes I had ended up having were temporary once I found out how mean, obnoxious, or immature the guys my age were.

So Mr. James was quite refreshing.

As he took attendance, everything went smoothly until he called my name.

"Jada Everton," he said.

I raised my hand. "Here, ready to learn," I replied. He stared at me for a bit.

"Everton...huh?" he asked.

I smiled shyly. "Yes."

"Are you by any chance related to the writer Myles Everton?" Mr. James inquired.

"Yeah, he's my dad," I answered softly.

He got quiet for some time. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but he seemed a bit lost in thought.

"He was a classmate of mine in high school,"

Mr. James shared. Still a serious look on his face. His voice lowered. "I'll have to keep a close eye on you then," he added.

What? What did that mean exactly? Was my dad one of the bad kids in high school? My stomach swirled with tight knots. This wouldn't shock me if he had been, as I reflected more.

Then my professor continued on with the rest of attendance like nothing weird had just happened.

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Turned out, I wasn't the only girl who developed a crush on Mr. James. During the next few months, I'd overhear the girls in the locker room before PE or in the hallways mention our new teacher. How cute he was, that he wasn't like our more stern or old teachers, that he was so nice, etc.

One of these girls was a cute, blonde, and very busty cheerleader, Parker Robbins.

She'd check him out during class sometimes, ask him for more help after class, and ask him questions about the notes and etc. during class. This really ticked me off.

On one occasion, as I stared at the two of them talking at his desk, I squeezed my pencil so hard that it snapped. Parker had said a joke and made him laugh. Mr. James suddenly glanced over at me from ogling Parker's chest. Cleared his throat.

"Daydreaming again during class, Ms. Everton?" he asked.

I felt myself blushing. Some students turned to look at me. How embarrassing! Livid as I was, somehow I managed to force a polite smile.

"No, I was just going to ask a few questions I had for tonight's reading assignment. I don't understand some of the theories," I answered. Actually, I wasn't pretending. But I also didn't want him to think I was a bad student.

He sighed. "Give me a minute. I'll be right there," he replied.

5 minutes later, he walked over. Class had ended by now, but I stayed after. Lunch was next on my schedule, so it wasn't a big deal if I was a little late.

"What could I help you with?" Mr. James wanted to know. He appeared a bit distracted.

"I hope you don't think I'm a bad girl," I blurted out. Oops. It came out wrong. But I had gotten more nervous with him so close to me. I had meant to say: "like if my dad used to be bad to you in the past...don't judge me please based on his behavior. I'm not like him."

He smiled. "Have you been a bad girl?"

My jaw dropped. Wait, was he flirting with me or just messing with me?! Did he find out somehow I had a huge crush on him?!

"I'm not bad like my father," I finally stated. There. Yes, I could do this. Be chill around my crush. One step at a time.

"Oh no, are you being abused at home?" Mr. James questioned. "Cause I'm not qualified to be your therapist, but I have to report it to someone if you are being abused at home." His expression got a bit sad.

I let out a nervous laugh. "No, I'm not," I replied.

"It's just...what you said to me about knowing my dad.."

"He used to bully me, for being smart," he said.

I glanced up at him pleadingly.

"Please be nice to me. I hate him too. And I..."

I paused. "Look, I really think you're a cool professor, ok?" I admitted. I cursed.

Mr. James smiled again. Ran his fingers through his hair.

"You do?" he asked.

"Of course," I said.

I felt a bit hot and tingly, so I quickly shoved my legs together. Why did my uniform skirt have to be so short?

"That's a pity," Mr. James said.

"I was really enjoying the view. So, what other thongs do you like to wear?"

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Over time, I started to spend more time alone with my Psychology professor after class. I began to feel more comfortable and safe around him. I even teased and joked around with him. A part of me warned me this was wrong, but I ignored that part of me.

Then one day, I made a huge risky move.

While speaking with him privately, I leaned over and gave him a kiss.

On his lips. Kind of a long one, too.

"I know you're my professor and coach, but I want you," I told him hungrily.

"I want you too," he replied. "I love your body, it's so beautiful." Then he kissed me passionately.

Soon he knocked the papers off his desk and plopped me down on it. I giggled.

"I guess I am a bad girl after all," I said.

"Very bad," Mr. James agreed.

I got on top of him-it was a long desk. So I wasn't that worried.

My fingers explored his chest. "Not bad," I commented. It wasn't extremely hairy, which was a big turn-on. He grinned. I went down on him. Hoped we wouldn't get caught. He seemed to like me blowing him, since after a while he started moaning. Then he grabbed me and sat me on top of his lap.

Kissed behind my ear and along my neck as he sat in his chair. I sighed once he was fully inside. He was so big. I moaned into his right ear. "You feel so great," I said.

"Yeah," he replied. Probably wasn't completely listening. He squeezed my ass with his hands. Slapped them. "Oh!" I exclaimed. No one had slapped my ass before during sex. But I loved him doing it. He sucked my boobs. I ran my fingers through his hair.

Started bouncing up and down.

Gripped at his chest for more support. Moaned his name.

It got very hot. After we finished, we were out of breath. Quickly gathered our clothes and got dressed. "Wow," he said after.

"Let's make this a habit," I said. I stared into his comforting eyes. He nodded. "Definitely."