Ginger Moves Overseas

"I hope this was the right decision." I say to myself.

Staring out at the row of young Danish male students in my classroom, I see 40 sets of mostly ice-blue eyes checking me out.

My first day as the new English teacher in this small university is a little nerve-wracking. I had moved here from the States two months ago. I needed a change, and when I found out my boyfriend wanted to be submissive and have me dominate him, that was enough. The mere thought of him turns my stomach. Gawd, aren't there any REAL men around? So when a head-hunter contacted me looking for someone fluent in Scandinavian languages, I jumped at the chance to move far away from my troubles.

This school had only a few hundred students, and I had expected more girls. I learned there are only three. At least it was a graduate school, so I wouldn't be working with bored teenagers who had no desire for an advanced degree. I had rented a small home within cycling distance, and I was gaining confidence each day that I was fitting in to the Dansk culture. They seem friendly enough, but only after I approach them first. I was eager to have more social interaction.

Speaking clearly and with confidence, I announce, "Good morning, I am Miss Ginger and I am your new English teacher."

I receive a polite response and a few smiles. Way in the back row, I notice one young man with his eyes almost closed, a lazy smirk upon his face. His arms are folded across his chest and his long taut legs stretch out into the aisle. I can't help but notice how his dark jeans mold to his strong thighs. I look up and meet his stare, and I blush when I realize he knows I am admiring his legs.

"Oh, great. Now I've been caught ogling a student! I know it has been a while since I have been with a man, but really! Get a hold of yourself girl," I chide myself.

As I walk down the aisle handing out study sheets, I feel his stare. He folds his hands behind his head, there is that insolent grin again, and completely ignores the stack of papers I am handing to him. I let them drop on his desk, and give him a stern look.

Turning on my heel, I walk back up toward my desk. "Why do I have this feeling he is staring at my legs and ass?" I turn quickly to see him with his head tilted, and yes indeed, he is staring at the lower half of my body. "I really should have dressed more conservatively. This isn't the USA."

Now I am self-conscious of the flouncy red skirt I am wearing. It is several inches above my knees, with a ruffled hem that swings when I walk. My smooth tanned legs are bare, except for the thin silver chain I wear around my slim ankle. Hanging from it is a single deep red ruby. My high heeled black sandals probably show too much, I forget how much men are turned on by women's soft shapely feet, especially my red toenail polish.

I glare at him, and he does nothing to hide the fact that he's assessing me. Determined to ignore him, I continue to the front and start to ask questions in English, forcing them to abandon their native language and speak mine. I smile, "Now this is more like it, I am in control." I walk between aisles, keeping them engaged, and I hope they are learning something. I pass out books for the semester. I hear this "Thunk!" and look in the back row. Surprise surprise it's my star student. For some reason his book is on the floor.

I try not to let my annoyance show as I walk back there. "What is your name?" I demand. He looks up at me and ohhh my I am finding it hard to breathe..up close his eyes are so crystal-blue, frozen shards of ice, they reach inside me and squeeze, I feel paralyzed.

He speaks, "Søren". I take a step back, I am astounded that such a young man can possess such an incredibly deep sexy voice.

Hiding my discomfort, I ask, "Do you have a problem holding on to your property?"

One side of his full lips (ohh did I mention his luscious full red lips) curves upwards. "No, I am very good at holding on to what belongs to me." And with that, his hand snakes out quickly and his fingers close upon my slender wrist. I jump back, tearing myself away, and stumble, my heart pounding, did he actually just do that?!

I can feel my chest flushing, pink creeping up from my breasts towards my neck. This man is insane! The other students are staring at me, or maybe they're staring at the way my voluptuous tits are straining at my thin white blouse. My shoe strap has come undone, and without thinking I bend at the waist to fix it, not realizing I am giving them a free show straight down my neckline, not to mention how high up my skirt goes, revealing way more thigh than intended. While I am bent I freeze, my hands on my ankles, and slowly look around. Yes, without a doubt I have everyone's attention. Søren is unabashedly fixated on my tits. I find myself panting a little, "this can't be happening, I must regain control."

I straighten up with as much grace as I can muster, and dismiss the class.

What a horrible first day.