Teacher's Pet

She could feel his hands exploring her body even before she was fully awake. Dreamily, she understood that they were in the same position they had fallen asleep in last night: Ben on his back, and she was cuddled up against him, her arm draped over his neck, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her ever closer to him. All the night, they had not moved. But he was moving now, caressing her tummy, her ticklish sides, her hips, her thighs. She groggily moved her hand from around his neck, slowly letting it drift toward his cock, and finally her hand closed around him. Jesus, he was hard, so very hard, and the skin of his cock was hotter than his other skin, burning her little hand. His body shuddered and his hips thrust into her hand as she softly stroked him.

She loved touching him, loved being here with him like this, loved his cock as much as any other part of him. She began to slide her body down against his, opening her eyes at last to see that he looked like he had been awake for a while, just touching her and stroking her in her sleep. A sentimentally erotic picture, she thought, in a self-voyeuristic kind of way. She continued down until she met his cock face to face, and pausing to look him in the eye, she began to lick his cock from balls to tip, slowly and deliberately. He released a long, loud moan, reaching down to take her head gently in his hands. She felt her pussy swell, the little mouth quivering, and she knew she could not keep this up for long, without fucking him.

She continued her unhurried pace, mouthing his balls, sucking them ever so gently, one at a time. She dipped her tongue beneath them, pressing against that secret little space, before licking her way back up to the tip of his cock, taking only the first inch into her mouth, and twirling her tongue around it. He drew in a sharp breath, arching his hips involuntarily. Her mouth traveled slowly down his cock, until she had taken it all the way in, letting it rest inside her mouth, nudging against the back of her throat.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered. "You are so good at that."

She moved her head in a little circle, pushing him further down her throat. As she moved up again, she wrapped one hand around the base of his cock. She moved to a steadier pace, her hand following her mouth up and down his cock. He was already close, she realized; his thighs were tensing and his breath quickening, his cock swelling in her mouth. But she wanted to keep this going as long as she could, so she kept her pace slow and steady, dragging her tongue along his cock as she moved up and down. His grip on her head tightened, and he grasped her free hand in his.

"God," he cried softly. "Grace...you're killing me...let me cum, baby, please..."

She paused. Well, he had asked nicely. She sped up, mouth-fucking him intently. Not eight seconds later, his muscles locked, and he let out a grunt. She pulled off and stroked him through the finish, catching his cum on her chin.

"My god," he whispered breathlessly.

"Pretty good?" she taunted.

"Incredible," he gasped.

She wiped her chin on the sheet, and scooted up to cuddle with him again. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her, covering her face with kisses.

"You're amazing," he told her.

"And you're irresistible," she replied.

"We're disgusting, you realize that, right?"

"Revolting," she agreed, giggling.

"You feeling okay? You took quite a thrashing last night."

"Oh, I'm fine," she assured him. "A little sore in places, but I'm fine. How about you?"

"I couldn't be happier right now," he said, smiling at her.

She squeezed him and kissed his cheek.

He glanced up at the clock and sighed. "Baby, it's almost ten. I gotta get out of here, I have a class at eleven."

"That makes me sad."

"Me too. It was so great...you know, spending this time with you." He stroked her cheek with the back of his index finger.

"Sleeping together." She smiled brightly.

"Cuddling all night."

"Morning head."

"Morning head, definitely."

They laughed together.

"But," he said, "all good things must come to an end, they say."

"They also say the end of one thing is only the beginning of another."

"That's kind of profound, considering the circumstances."

She chuckled. "Yeah."

He kissed her forehead. "I'm gonna jump in the shower."

By the time he was out of the shower, she had gotten dressed and made the bed. He was dressed when he came out of the bathroom, running a comb through his hair. "So, I'll call you?" he asked.

"I would love that," she replied. "You go on ahead and get to class, I'm going to hang around here for another hour or so."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later, baby." He opened his arms, and she jumped to hug him.

"I love you, Ben," she said.

He kissed her cheeks and her forehead. "I love you, too. I really do."

"Go on. I'll see you today, right?"

"Absolutely."

He pulled himself away finally, and headed to his car. He got in and shut the door, started the engine and just stared at nothing for a minute, thinking to himself that he hadn't felt this good in ages, but that he was going to have to tone down his good mood a little before he got to campus. Must put on the Professional Face. Must...put on...the Professional...Face.

He hurried into his office just in time to check his email before class began. Opening the email program and shuffling through the junk email, he noticed a "high-priority" email from the Dean of the English College, Richard Thorne. The subject line was, "Let's talk".

Interesting. He opened the email and read:

"Foster:

"I want to see you in my office before your 11am class. I have some things to discuss with you.

"Thorne."

Ben felt a chill in the pit of his stomach. This couldn't be good. And it was already 15 minutes before class. This wouldn't look good for him at all. And if there was anyone he feared, anyone whose opinion could make or break his entire ego, it was Richard Thorne.

Thorne was a born-and-bred Texan, come to the college five years ago by some ironic stroke of luck. His spoken English was truly Southern, typically Texan, which made it sophomorically funny that he was the head of the English college. But his very demeanor commanded respect, and he had earned and received that respect from everyone in the English department, faculty and students alike. Thorne was one of those people who always said exactly what he thought, whose opinion about a subject or person was never in question.

That he wanted so badly to speak to Ben could only mean something serious.

Heart thumping, he rose from his desk and made the seemingly endless journey to Thorne's office.

*******************************

"Come in, Ben, have a seat," Thorne drawled, waving Ben in.

Ben swallowed as he sat down. The Dean never called him by his first name. "What can I do for you, Sir?" he asked cautiously.

Thorne's face settled into a mild frown. His square jaw set firmly for just a moment before his face relaxed again, and he said placidly, "Ben, there's been some rumors floating around the department about you."

Ben felt the heat rise into his collar. He swallowed again before choking, "Rumors, Sir?"

"Now, I know how people talk," Thorne hurried to say. "I know that some things you can't hide from other people no matter how hard you try. And I know that sometimes you think you can trust somebody, and it turns out you can't. I know all those things, Ben, but it doesn't change the fact of what's going on here." Thorne's voice rose just a little at these last few words.

Oh, Jesus, God, Mary, Ben thought. He can't be talking about Grace. He just can't be.

Aloud, he said shakily, "I'm not sure I follow you, Sir."

"It's no secret, Foster," Thorne said, reverting back to the way he normally addressed Ben. "No secret at all. Everybody knows about it."

"Please, Sir, if you could be a little more specific, what does everyone know?"

Thorne rose from his seat, crossing around to the front of his desk, where he leaned his tall, lean frame against the edge. "Everybody knows you've been having problems with your wife, son. And from the stories I've heard about her, I'd guess those problems couldn't be avoided. When you're not around, Ben, and you ain't been around for quite a long time except for classes, everyone's talking about it. Students, teachers, everybody."

Now all that heat was gone, as the blood drained from Ben's face in a probably-visible expression of relief. "Well, Sir," he began, "you're right, I can't control what people talk about, and when, and where, and why."

"That ain't all, son."

Ben was nervous all over again. "It isn't?"

"There's talk that, after all these problems, you've found comfort in the arms of another woman."

Thorne sternly held his gaze for some time, before Ben dropped his head into his hands, defeated. Any minute, Thorne would reveal some knowledge of his affair with Grace, and life as he knew it would be all over. He braced himself for the apocalypse.

"This ain't none of my business, Ben," Thorne said softly. "It ain't my place to tell a man what he ought to do and who he ought to do it with, ya hear? What is my place is to keep a professional atmosphere in this college. It's my place to keep things in order around here. Hear me, son?"

"Yes, Sir, I do," Ben whispered, not looking up.

"These people knowin' about you and your wife is bad enough. I don't know who you could have told about it, and I don't care. Even if you told just one person you thought you could trust, fact is everybody knows. And now there's this about you seeing some other woman." Thorne raked his fingers through his silver hair, sighing heavily. "I hate to see a man's good name ruined, Foster, drug though the mud like this. Not only that, but I've got to keep the professionalism alive. That's why I gotta do what I gotta do."

Only now did Ben look up, slowly, painfully. "And what is it, Sir, that you've got to do?"

"Semester's almost over, Ben. I'm going to have to ask you to take a leave of absence for the rest of the semester, and come back next fall with your head screwed back on straight, you hear me, son?"

Thorne obviously didn't know about him and Grace, but this was almost as bad. Ben gave a sharp breath, something like a cross between a gasp and a sigh, and cried, "Sir, please, that seems a little extreme – "

Thorne cut him off. "My mind's made up, Ben. I'll take over your class myself until the end of the term; I'll tell them you've got some illness or something. Don't you worry, boy; I ain't gonna spread this rumor no further than it's already got. But I've got to have order here, son, I've got to repair the damage that's been done with all this gossip." He lowered his head to look Ben directly in the eye. "And so have you, boy. You're a strong young man and a capable teacher, you just got a lot on your mind and you can't do your job well in the predicament you're in. It's simple as that, you know. You take this time and you either work on your marriage or you end it, one or the other, and come back next fall with your ducks in a row, hear?" Getting no answer, Thorne went on, "We already went ahead and cancelled your eleven a.m. class today. You won't be bothered. So go on ahead and get your personal things, and take yourself a nice vacation before summer."

In a flashing moment of complete emotional overload, Ben's mind went blank. He looked vacantly up at Thorne, and said woodenly, "I'll do that, Sir. See you next fall."

Slowly, he rose, and left the office, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Thorne sighed and shook his head as Foster's footsteps trailed off down the hallway. He did hate to see a good man like that falling apart, but he was going to have to fall apart off campus grounds. He couldn't risk Foster's personal life getting in the way of his ability to perform adequately, not to mention the unspeakable, repugnant indifference of the students and faculty who made a hobby of gossiping about a teacher. There would be more respect than that in his department, and he would make sure of it.

For all that, though, Thorne did not carry with him the feeling that he had done something truly constructive. He only hoped Foster would make it through.

*****************************

Ben couldn't conjure an emotion if he wanted to. He sat in his desk chair and stared. That's all. Just stared. There wasn't anything he wanted from this office. Anything personal he carried with him in his messenger bag. He had already cleaned out his e-mail folders of anything personal or incriminating, shredded papers no one should see, made sure no stray underwear was hiding in the cushions of the little sofa. There wasn't anything here he needed. But he couldn't bring himself to leave. He was trying to feel something – the pain of failure, the rage against betrayal, the fear of going home and trying to explain what had happened to Monica, the relief that Thorne hadn't known about Grace, and maybe a little happiness that he was given the time to straighten himself out – but nothing came to him. He was blank. Numb. He couldn't even shift the blame of this situation to anyone – everyone DID know his wife was a bitch and that he nearly hated her. He had told Grace himself that he had mentioned to a few of his buddies that he was having the best sex of his life – they decided for themselves that that sex wasn't being had with Monica, and they had been right. And he couldn't blame Thorne for the decision he'd made. They both knew he was in no condition to continue teaching while his life was in such tumult. Had it been his own fault? Confessing to Grace his lust for her, being so unwilling to fight against his love for her, getting involved with her at all while his marriage remained unresolved? Or had it all been something out of his control? He couldn't know.

Having nothing else to do, his mind began to rationalize, to calculate. With this extra spare time, he could spend more time with his kids. Without finals to review and grade, he could perhaps write something of his own. He could find a way to spend more time with Grace. Grace lived here in town, and would not be going away for the summer like so many other students. He could be happy about that. He could meet her, at a park or a hotel, and spend a few hours of paradise with her. Maybe he could start his summer job at the bookstore early. He liked his summer job – a locally owned and family-operated bookstore that featured the work of local artists, writers, jewelry makers, and craftspeople. It was always peaceful there, like a library. He could use some of that peace.

There was a knock at his door. He stared at it, pondering how sound traveled. He remembered seeing the fireworks in the park as a kid, marveling at how the colors would explode in the sky a few seconds before the boom was heard, like a badly-edited Kung Fu movie.

Another knock shattered his thoughts. Not having the spirit to call out an answer, he walked to it, and opened the door.

It was Grace, her curly hair hanging freely, in spiraling rivulets around her freshly painted face. Her shoulder bag hung to her knee, and she hugged a book to her chest. She certainly didn't look like she'd spent the night in a hotel room after getting gang-fucked by two of her teachers. "Hi," she said softly.

He wanted desperately to hug her, but he didn't dare. Instead he said, "Come in." And he crossed the room, flopping himself down on the sofa. That little sofa where they'd consummated their lust so many times over. It would now be just as sterile as the rest of this place.

Her brow furrowed as she stepped in. "I was on my way to the library when I passed your classroom. There's a sign on the door that said your class got cancelled. Is everything all right?"

He pondered that question. Was everything all right? Was ANYTHING all right? He didn't know. He wanted to say yes, that everything was fine, but he didn't know if that was a lie. He didn't want to lie to Grace. Not to Grace.

He changed the subject. "How are you feeling?"

"Ben, you asked me that this morning. What's the matter, are you all right?" she said again.

So he said it. "I don't know. I don't know if anything is all right. I'm pretty sure, though, that everything is all wrong."

She looked worried. "Everything?" she asked.

"Well. Almost everything."

Her head tilted to one side. "So are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Yes. I am." He drew in a deep breath. "Richard Thorne has decided that since my life is in a general shambles right now, he would throw it into an even deeper hole. He told me that everyone has been talking about my marriage, and there are rumors that I've been seeing another woman."

Grace gasped. "Oh my god, he doesn't know about us, does he?"

"No, but that's why I didn't greet you properly when you came in. I don't want...I don't want to take the risk."

"I understand."

"I knew you would. You always do." This time he actually smiled at her. He went on, "Thorne decided I would take a leave of absence for the rest of the semester."

Grace frowned. "Ouch. But that's a good thing, maybe, isn't it? You can get some perspective..."

"Yeah. That's kind of what I thought. I just keep telling myself, it's a million times better than if he had known the truth. We both could have been in serious trouble."

Grace lowered her eyes to the floor. "Yeah. I feel so bad, Ben."

"Why should you feel bad?"

"Because, this is all my fault. I wanted you – "

"If you recall, I wanted you, too. And neither one of us expected to feel like this, to fall for each other like this."

"But I –"

"Grace. Stop. You aren't going to fix this by blaming yourself. And neither am I. I've just...Like Thorne said, I've just got to find a way to make this work. He said, 'You either fix your marriage or you end it, one or the other.' And that's the hard truth of it, that's what I've got to do."

Grace shifted. "Which...um, which one will it be? Fixing...or ending?"

"I think we both know the answer to that." He leaned back against the couch. "Even without you, Grace, I'm miserable with her. I have been since our daughter was born and I finally saw what a terrible person she was. I can't stay with her. Her attitude, her mindset, her very presence crushes the life out of me." He held his hand out, and Grace crossed the room to take his hand in hers. "You give me my life back. You make it easier to breathe. I love you for that."

She smiled and gave his hand a little squeeze.

He went on, "The tough part is, how to do it. How to do it without losing my kids, my house..." He sighed.

"You'll figure it out, Ben, and I'll help you however I can."

"And I'll figure out a way for us to see each other while I'm gone, and over the summer. Don't worry about that. I can't go without seeing you now. Not after I've finally admitted to myself the way I feel about you."

"I don't think I can go without seeing you, either. And I think I had better warn Sydney about this, that maybe he and I should cool it, to protect him."

"That's probably a good idea."

They looked at each other for a long time, their hands still clasped, silent and motionless, until Grace thought she saw tears welling up in Ben's eyes.

"Honey, what's the matter?" she asked.

His voice shook as he replied, "I just want to kiss you. But I don't dare. I don't dare."

Her heart aching, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it lightly. "I'm sorry I can't help you, honey," she whispered. "I want to make it all better for you, and I can't."

"I'll be all right," he whispered back. "One way or the other, I'll be okay."

"I'd better be going," she said without conviction.

He nodded. "I will call you before the day is over. I promise."