I swung around the green picket fence towards the red door of the French room. I reveled in the feel of my thighs rubbing against each other, half exposed by the short, horizontally striped skirt I wore. I knew the boys would be very excited by my looks, yet unable to do anything about it. My male colleagues had tried to make remarks about how I dressed. Two of them had already caught the sharp end of my tongue, and it had travelled around the staffroom that I was nothing but a 'cockteaser'. None of them had any idea that it was not targeted at them but at the sexually-budding youngsters just turning twenty that I taught. I felt a huge surge of power over them as their teacher, knowing they were bound by society's moral code from expressing their desires openly. Certainly they discussed girls amongst themselves and made all sorts of rude comments, but would never want their teachers to overhear them. They were severely limited.
I pushed open the door and the hubbub died down as abruptly as if switched off at the mains.
"Bon matin, classe!" I greeted them.
"Bon matin, Madame!" they chorused.
"Aujourd'hui nous venons conjuger le verbe ,'courier'.
I asked if anyone knew the meaning of the verb. The guesses came hard and fast, but the tall, dark fellow in thick glasses sitting right at the back of the class kept his own counsel. He was my best student but it always bothered me that he was always so laid back.
"Barrack, et vous?" I prodded.
"J'espre...c'est marcher vite.,." his voice trailed off. "Walking fast" was not "running" but it was the closest answer I had been given so far. I turned to the board to explain the difference between Barrack's very good attempt and the correct meaning of the verb. As I wrote I made a point of reaching as high as I could. This caused my hemline to rise, thereby exposing that 'figure 11' on the backs of my knees. That was sure to heat the poor boys up mercilessly. They would drool over the sight of my exposed legs and try to imagine what was above the hemline. As I turned back to face the class, I caught more than one stealing a hand from under the desk. I enjoyed the thought they had been trying to quieten their erections at what they had just seen.
Once the word had become familiar to them in French (I avoided the use of English to explain anything) we settled down to conjugating the present tense of the verb. I sat on the teacher's table knowing full well that the sight of my exposed knees would set them more on fire. Some of them tried to shift viewpoint by swaying on their chair to see if the could see more of my thighs. I kept my teachers' guide on my lap as we went through the lesson, but once in a while, just to tantalise them further, I would jump off the table sideways so that there would be that very brief parting of my knees by a few inches. The boys thought they would surely see up their teacher's thighs only to be disappointed both by how little they could catch sight of, and how brief the flash. But I would be going to write something on the board, exposing the backs of my thighs again. These games of dangling the forbidden before the made sure that they swallowed my lesson like greedy sharks.
Last week I had given them a test, which books were still in my cupboard in class. I was going to take them home for marking that evening. I realised at the last moment that they were bound to be a heavy load for me. These were the biggest boys in the school, and I could get one of them to help me with the load. Immediately I latched onto Barrack who was both strong and a good student. He might be more ready to carry the books for the chance to spend more time with his sexy teacher.
At the end of the lesson, I let the students leave and the fact that Barrack was at the back of the class made it easier to call him to my table.
"Before you leave school, would you come to this room. I have something for you."
The young man grinned from ear to ear. "Yes, Madame." I had a moment to wonder what idea had entered his head at my words as he left the French room to his next lesson.
The short dress, the half-exposed knees and thighs and my swinging gait continued to torture the younger ones that I took for French throughout the day. It amazed me that men behaved the same way no matter the age. They were all, without exception, excited by seeing my 'figure 11', slightly exposed thighs and knees. I truly enjoyed toying with these men, dangling the forbidden fruit before them.
