A Little Hug
By PygmyCoho (all rights reserved).
A note from the author:
This is a rework of my most popular story. Hope you enjoy it. And to all of you who have commented/emailed about this story in the past, Thank You! }:o)
Disclaimer: ALL sexual scenes are between one or more consenting adults 18 years of age or older. Oh, and they just happen to be women. There is some minor consumption of wine by a nineteen-year-old during an intimate dinner. If any of this bothers you, please sample some of the other excellent stories on Lit. Thanks.
Now, on with our tale...
*
Rachael began her junior year as a transfer from another high school. She seemed timid and perfectly happy to remain under the radar. In fact, there were times when I had to search for her amid the tide of students flowing through the hallways between classes. In retrospect, I completely misjudged her...
Since Rachael was not the type to be drawn into a clique it meant she remained a bit of a loner. That left her vulnerable. One day a couple of the "popular girls" singled Rachael out for their brand of hazing. I happened to round a corner of the hallway just as the snotty blonde slapped an armload of books out of Rachael's grasp. It made me angry. Rachael did not deserve that sort of treatment--no one did. I waded in and broke up the altercation. I was about to send some people to the principal's office when Rachael spoke.
"It's okay, Ms. DeWitt. We were just kidding around."
"That's not how it looked to me." I glared at the perpetrators.
Tiffany, the blonde, looked at the floor. Her friend, Sara, said, "That's right. We were just jokin' around."
Her response came a little too quickly. My eyes held her gaze for a few seconds before she, too, was unable to meet my stare.
"Really, Ms. DeWitt, it's all good," Rachael confirmed. Then under her breath, "Please?"
My head turned to her. The plea in her eyes was too compelling.
"All right, ladies. But just remember that sometimes joking can look like something else entirely. And every event, even a small one, might trigger an unintended consequence. Understand?" I hoped I sounded menacing enough.
Everyone nodded. There were mumbled assents, too. Tiffany continued studying the floor tiles as though they held the secret to life itself.
"Now, I'm sure all of you have a class. I suggest you go there.
Now
." I thought of helping Rachael with her books but felt that act could be interpreted as favoritism and might make her more of a target. It seemed best to just leave.
I worried then, but before the second semester ended Rachael made peace with Tiffany and Sara. Perhaps it was the other way around. Regardless, they all seemed polite enough to each other. I even saw them studying together a couple of times. I'm sure the two girls reaped some scholastic benefit from the interactions because Rachael turned out to be an excellent student.
* * * * * * *
Over the summer break between her junior and senior year, Rachael turned eighteen--and apparently received her woman's body as a birthday gift! When given the chance her thick ebony curls spilled down to the small of her back. More often, though, she twisted her hair into a bun and stuck a pencil through it, or tied it back in a simple ponytail. Even her chosen fashion of jeans and t-shirts seemed to accentuate her beauty rather than hide it
The first time she enter my classroom, I remember gasping. Shimmering dark eyes, high cheekbones, white teeth, and cleft chin first got my attention. My eyes drizzled down her trim figure; from sculpted shoulders and a lovely pair of pert breasts, she tapered to a flat tummy and trim waist then flared into a delightful set of hips. I would have described her as "shockingly beautiful."
When she strolled down the hallways, the swing of those hips highlighted a bottom that was rounded, trim, perky and squeezable all at once. Her new beauty had a profound effect on most boys, and seemed to stir many of the girls, too. I sighed after her more than a couple of times myself. But Rachael carried on as though she was completely unaware of the attention. I often wondered if she realized just how attractive she was.
Rachael was what used to be called, "teacher's pet." Now they're called "student crushes." Those students are the ones teachers look forward to seeing every day. They are attentive, engaged, focused and studious. They make teaching feel important, fulfilling, even noble, and help offset the long hours and low pay.
To be clear, these crushes are always platonic. Teachers who care about their students do
not
take advantage, and those who cross that line deserve the harshest of penalties. Besides, I always kept my feelings to myself to avoid any awkwardness.
Early in that second year I saw her teased once or twice. Rachael would flash her delightful smile, perhaps offer a quip, and disarm her assailant without causing hard feelings. Those rare displays, worthy of a seasoned diplomat, were unheard of in high school. They were also effective, and the taunting stopped within days. Truth be told; however, I doubt anyone felt all that motivated to harass her in the first place.
She still avoided the cliques yet somehow managed to be popular, nonetheless. She reminded me of a hostess who could move seamlessly from one group to another, belonging to each one in turn without becoming entrapped. Maybe her popularity was because she avoided the cliques. Or maybe it stemmed from Rachael's kindhearted nature. Her sunny disposition rarely faltered. She could find something positive about anyone, a trick even I envied. To say that she had blossomed, physically and socially, would have been gross understatement. All this made her stand out from so many girls who seemed bent on paddling through a morose sea of high school angst and rampant teenage hormones.
Her classwork excelled, too, as I witnessed firsthand when she got to my class. College preparatory physics could be trying for students, but her probing questions demonstrated real insight. There are pupils who keep us teachers on our toes, keep us striving to prepare for subjects we think we already know lest they ask us something we cannot answer. Rachael epitomized just that sort of student.
As awful as it sounds, there were some students that I was glad to see leave the school. Call me "human", I suppose. But there were many, many more whom I truly enjoyed teaching. I hoped they would keep in touch once in a while, so I would know how life treated them.
Rachael became the first, however, whose pending departure caused me true separation anxiety. No other student had ever affected me that way. The mere thought of never seeing her again generated a physical pain in my chest. So, one May morning I gave my mirror a pep talk--and a mild rebuke for having such inappropriate emotions. I ignored those emotions as best I could and faced the term's last day.
Before being labeled a complete love-fool let me state that I knew nothing could possibly happen between us. There were three strong and obvious obstacles: our age difference; my status as her teacher, and her apparent lack of interest in... well, in me. Despite the stream of logic, though, part of me still hoped to see her after the school year ended.
Nothing meaningful gets planned for the last day of my class. Instead, there's a modest party with soft drinks, bottled waters, snacks, fruits and pastries. We share the students' plans for their summers, their colleges, their prospects, and ambitions. It had been a tradition in my classes and the only rule was no one got to demean anyone. Some good, truly special moments came from those parties over the years. Attendance was not required so the turn out usually averaged about fifty percent. What can I say, seniors, right...?
This time Rachael was one of the no-shows.
At the bell most of the kids shuffled and made for the door. Some of the boys grabbed handfuls of food for their last trip down the halls. A few hangers-on milled around for a little while, only to trickle out as the mood changed from sentimental to awkward. And just like that the room became a void.
I looked at the rows of seats, thought back over the year and found my gaze draped on Rachael's chair. It felt a little unsettling seeing it empty.
"Don't be stupid," I muttered to myself. With an effort I put away the food, binned plastic bottles, and cleaned or disposed of the rest. Once in motion my thoughts of the raven-haired beauty waned a little. I had nearly finished when the door burst open.
"Oh, thank God you're still here!"
"Rachael?"
"I'm sooo sorry I missed class--"
