Author note: this is a redo of the series I had previously started. I felt there wasn't really anywhere interesting to go and I hadn't planned anything out ahead of time. This is a similar story but hopefully a little better thought out for it to continue.
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Heather Daniels politely smiled; her hands clasped in front of her. Seated on the other side of the wooden desk was a student of hers, slouched in his chair. The room was silent, only containing the two of them. Even as the silence stretched for longer than comfortable, Miss Daniels held her smile and only raised her eyebrows a little. She may not have been in the teaching profession for as long as her colleagues but she was no stranger to dealing with petulant men. Her patience was rewarded as the young man across from her gave in, finally responding to the question she'd asked.
"What do I see as the biggest barrier to my success at this school? Honestly Miss Daniels, I'd have to say the cafeteria food."
Heather's smile widened a little despite herself. Dave, the student across from her, was not the type to make this kind of thing easy.
"Today is Taco Tuesday, Dave. If tacos are what's preventing you from doing your homework then that is something we can fix."
Dave smiled back at her. "You'd think its impossible to screw up a taco but Highland manages."
Encouraged, Heather saw her opportunity. "Aside from the tacos, what else do we at Highland screw up?"
Dave snorted. "Oh, you're good," he shot back.
"Well, I do do this for a living." Heather paused a moment, leaning forward a little. "Dave, I know this isn't the first time a faculty member has had this discussion with you. But it is the first time you've had this discussion with me."
This seemed to give Dave some real pause. "Fine then. What screw up would you like to talk about first? Home life? Getting into that fight last week?"
"I'm not a therapist, Dave. I want three things from you." She held up her hand, holding up three fingers.
"One, stop disrupting my class and distracting the other students. Two, start turning in your homework again. I know you can do it, you just aren't. Three... stop getting into fights with the other students."
At that last point, Dave's expression darkened a little. "You know, that asshole deserved it."
Heather nodded sympathetically. "I heard that he antagonized you, but that doesn't-"
"Did you hear that he fingered my girlfriend during lunch break? Or that they'd been fucking for the last two months?"
Heather knew the correct response to this was to rebuke his language, tell him that he couldn't talk about other students with that language in front of her. But, as someone who happened to know the ex girlfriend he was talking about as a shy, studious wallflower she instead just blurted out the word: "Anne?"
Dave saw her expression and laughed. "What, you don't keep up with your student's sex lives? And here I was saying you were good at your job."
Annoyed at herself for slipping up like that, she said. "Maybe instead of talking about, um, that, we could instead go to the exciting topic of calculus homework."
Dave shrugged, still smiling a little. "If you insist."
Feeling as though she had broken the ice enough, they moved into the safer topic of Dave's poor academic performance as of late. Dave obliged, answering earnestly when she asked him how much of this semester's course load he had really absorbed. As she had expected, he fit the stereotype of a smart student who didn't apply himself.
As they continued into their conversation, Heather felt a building sense of excitement wash over her. This was her third year teaching but her first at Highland Academy. She had jumped into teaching right after graduation to a public school, knowing that this kind of position was not something she could have reasonably expected to get out of college. A well-timed vacancy along with a family member's friendship with a school board member had gotten her in the door. As confident in her abilities as she was, it was hard not to feel a little intimidated by rest of the faculty. The expectation for student performance were considerably higher than what she was used to and she yearned for an opportunity to show she could hold her own. And with how well this after-hours one on one was going with this year's most troubled student, she may have found it.
Dave, for his part, seemed to be participating in earnest. After about twenty minutes of the conversation, he was willing to ask for her help on something. "Alright, I guess I do have a question about today's homework." He fished a worksheet from his backpack. Pointing at it, he continued. "I don't quite understand what this question is asking."
Heather strained to see across the desk for a moment. "Hold on," she told him as she scooted her chair around the desk to be next to his. She read the question he was pointing at. "Okay, that one is a little tricky. Let's think about what we learned today."
Dave smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, about that..."
Heather sighed. "What distracted you this time?"
He put up his hands defensively. "There is one distraction that does constantly disrupt my learning." His voice had taken a more serious tone.
Heather listened intently. "What?"
He flicked his eyes downwards. "Those jeans. They fit a little too tight."
Heather blushed instantly. "Oh. Well..."
Dave laughed. "I'm kidding, of course." He quickly added, "I focus way better when you wear those."
Heather anxiously laughed, almost out of reflex. Her train of thought lost, she stared down at the worksheet. A couple seconds later it hit her. 'What are you doing? Do NOT let him talk to you like that.' She cleared her throat, trying to think of a rebuke but coming up with nothing.
She turned toward Dave, noting that he was staring at her intently. Before she could say anything, she heard him mutter "fuck it" and leaned in. She didn't pull away or lean in, just passively sat there as his lips made contact with hers. She wasn't sure how long had elapsed when became conscious of his hands on her wrists. Without even realizing it, he was moving them towards his lap. He then pressed them down, letting her feel the outline of his dick through his pants on one of her palms as it contoured around the lump. She felt as though there was a distant alarm going off in her brain, begging her to respond to the obviously terrible situation happening. At the same time, she was conscious of how incredibly horny this setup was making her. An inane justification came to mind, 'I'm not doing anything, I'm just letting him do it to me.' She pressed down harder, letting him pull her closer to him as his tongue explored inside her mouth.