On that wild Thursday in the middle of April, when her life changed for the better, Violet Graves woke up with a violent headache, accidentally knocked over an entire shelf of medicine while searching for the aspirin, washed down the last two aspirin in the bottle with warm, bitter water, took out the trash, stepped in a pile of squishy dog crap, tripped over her little brother’s bike, breaking a fingernail, then returned to the house to clean out the cat’s litter box, do the dishes, sweep the floor and prepare bacon, eggs, sausage and cinnamon rolls for breakfast. All this before the clock struck 7:00 AM.
She remained positive during the entire stretch of bad luck and cruel manual labor, knowing deep down it could be a hell of a lot worse. At nineteen, Violet could’ve been in college and should’ve been out of the house, but bad luck and low test scores had her singing a different tune. Her parents were delighted to have her home, under the conditions that she get a job and work hard around the house. Trapped in the house she grew up in while old friends discovered the wild side of freedom. Violent suddenly felt like a sad, lonely prisoner.
After convincing her hopeless mind that things could only get better from this point, Violet set the table, prepared four plates, poured two cups of orange juice, one cup of milk and prepared one mug of coffee, cream and two table spoons of sugar. She woke her little brother up first, then her parents, who hadn’t been dragged out of sleep by the radio’s alarm for the third straight morning. Breakfast, despite all the bad things happening in her life, was successful as usual.
Twenty minutes after breakfast, Violet watched her mother and father leave for work. Her dad was a pretty successful lawyer working in a three man firm, her mom was a great third grade teacher. Violet kissed them both good-bye, wished them very successful days, promised her dad she wouldn’t give her brother a hard time and watched them pull away in their brand new black Jaguar. Her little brother retired to his bedroom, once there he’d go on the Internet, download porn and screw around in a chat room until it was time for school. To be a thirteen year old boy. Oh so gross! Violet found her first smile of the day.
After finishing the breakfast dishes, Violet went to the cabinet below the sink and pulled out a big bag of cat food. She filled two bowls with awful smelling stuff, then poured water into a third bowl. The two house cats were greedy when it came to food and honestly hated one another. They’d fight to the death for the water. Melanie and Blossom were upon the food in moments, growling frantically as they crunched away. “Breakfast is served,” she told the cats. Violet quickly left the kitchen because she didn’t care much for the eating habits of these freaky pets.
Violet checked around the house, looking for chores that may have slipped her mind. After thoroughly checking each room, she found no errors. The house was entirely clean. She’d earned her twenty minutes of peace in the shower.
In her bedroom, Violet went to her closet, pulled out a faded pair of denim jeans and a black tee shirt with a shattered pink heart featured in the center. Above the heart in big red words read: NAUGHTY GIRL AT WORK!!! She took a pair of black panties from the top bureau drawer, thought about grabbing a bra, but decided to spend the rest of the day braless.
Moments later she was in the bathroom, setting her clothes on the closed lip of the toilet bowl. She had closed the shades of the window, found the perfect water temperature for her shower, and pulled yesterday’s shirt over her head when the telephone rang downstairs.
“Shit,” she yelled out in frustration, and immediately put the shirt back on.
Running down the stairs and into the kitchen at half speed, Violet was able to answer the phone on the eighth ring. Out of breath, pulling out a chair from under the kitchen table to sit, Violet uttered an exhausted, “Hello.”
“Hello,” the called said. “I’m looking for a Violet Graves.”
“Speaking.” The voice sound vaguely familiar, however, she could quite put a face to the deep voice.
“This is Mr. Moore. Your old Creative Writing teacher.”
Images of sitting in Mr. Moore’s class flooded through her mind. She remembered this teacher well. Violet found herself excited to hear from him again.
“Oh my God! Wow! Mr. Moore! It’s been almost a year.”
“I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. You sound absolutely out of breath.”
“I was in the shower. I had to run down the stairs, but its okay. It’s nice to be talking to you again.”
She had so many questions to ask her old teacher, but she knew if Mr. Moore stayed on the line long enough, he’d explain himself.
“So what’s up?” Violet asked.
“Well I was driving by the old school and I start thinking of my old students. Mrs. Rogers tells me you’re still living at home.”
Mrs. Rogers had been her nosy counselor in high school. Violet truly loathed that skinny, short, bitter lady. “She speaks the truth. Things haven’t been going my way.”
“It’s sad to hear that,” he said. He managed to make his heavy, serious voice ooze with concern. “You were on of my better students.”
Violet found herself uncharacteristically blushing. She’d always had a crush on Mr. Moore, even though he was almost fifty. He had a Sean Connery or Michael Douglas kind of old man charm. She often found herself fantasizing about while he lectured the class. She wondered what his naked body would feel like pressed against her, what it would feel like to have him inside her, and many more fantasies that could fill an entire book of erotic stories.
“Listen,” he said, “I have a day off and since I’m the neighborhood, I thought maybe we could grab some lunch, have a little chat.”
The blush became even brighter. An entire afternoon with Mr. Moore. There was nothing she’d rather do. “Sure,” she said a little too fast. Violet was sure she’d just made a fool out of herself.
“That’s great,” Mr. Moore said as if he hadn’t heard anything wrong. She gave him the address, then told him bye. By the time Violet hung up the phone, her heart was hammering so hard she thought it might explode. Even her legs felt shaky and weak. She felt completely juvenile letting herself get like this, but she couldn’t help herself. After three minutes, Violet found the strength to walk up the stairs and step into the shower. The erotic thoughts were assaulting her mind in a fury.
She undressed slowly and looked at herself in the mirror, wondering what she had to offer Mr. Moore. Violet’s face is heart shaped, with cute little ears, small button nose, a generous chin, high cheek bones. Her has shoulder length black hair with red and blond streaks, sparkling emerald green walnut shaped eyes, full pink lips, perfect white teeth, though there’s a minor gap between her two front teeth.
Her body is coated by a perfect bronze tan, which shined in the bathroom light. Her skin was smooth like silk. Her breasts are small and full. The surface of her nipples are the size of half dollars and going up they form perfect little cones. She has a nice ass, long legs, a flat stomach and ugly little feet. She remained pimple and blackhead free all her life and never surrendered to the urge of make up. Her face was better off without it, her mother said once, and Violet believed every word. She stood at five foot six and weighed about one hundred and ten pounds.
Violet wanted to make some changes before leaving the house with Mr. Moore. She looked exactly the same as she did the day she left his classroom. She smiled at the mirror, thinking naughty thoughts, like the reflection she saw. Violet could only hope Mr. Moore and had more on his mind than lunch and a chat. And if he did-
This thought scared and excited Violet at the same time. What would she do? It was easy to have fantasies, but when reality showed its face, it became a different situation. Violet set the uncomfortable thoughts out of her mind. She wasn’t a virgin, she’d taken care of that when she was sixteen. If things did become wild, she would act normal and let things play out naturally. With that in mind, she stepped in the shower. The world no longer seemed very dark.
The warm water erupted over her exquisite body. She ducked her head under the wonderful water, letting to soak her sweaty face. Her hair became soaked immediately. She turned around and let the water spray against her back. Water leaked down the crack over ass, over her ass and down her legs. She washed her hair first, scrubbing it as clean as possible three times.
In three minutes she was completely clean, but Violet didn’t feel like rejoining the outside world quite yet. She couldn’t stop thinking about her fantasies. In many of the fantasies, Mr. Moore would ask her to stay after class. Sometimes he would punish her for not doing her best. Other times she would punish him for being a naughty teacher. In one fantasy, Violet punished her teacher for misspelling a word. The punishment was a simple, fair one. He was to eat her pussy until he made up for being a bad teacher.
Without quite realizing it, Violet’s hands were moving down her body. They went from her breasts, down to her stomach, and continued to move further down. Her nipples were hard with passion. Not even the water was going keep Violet from burning in desire.
