I slowly noticed my feelings creeping in over the period of my senior year, after being placed in his English class.
It was small things at first, like putting on extra makeup in the morning or putting on my favourite perfume, but now whenever I saw his name on my timetable, I would wait in nervous anticipation of each lesson and what interaction we would have with eachother.
I always made sure to wear my shortest skirt and most low cut top although I felt the guilt of sexualising this man in my mind - surely a teacher would never look twice at his student, not even my 18 year old self.
My dressing up felt like a futile attempt at catching his attention but at the same time I hoped maybe it would encourage him to look twice at me.
I did not know at the beginning if my feelings towards him caused me to notice a sexual tension between us which was all in my head, or if it was a reality.
I would always look up throughout the course of our lessons and catch his eye, but always just assumed that was a coincidence. Sometimes this eye contact would linger until I had to look down in the hopes that he would not see the blush creeping into my face.
Halfway through the year, he set up extra support classes after school for those who wanted help with studying. Naturally I was the first to sign up, along with a couple of other students. But it was during my attendance of these classes in which I noticed a shift in the relationship between us.
Each time we would make eye contact it would last for longer, sometimes only ending when his eyes dragged down my body until he caught himself and rapidly turned away. But still I did not want to make assumptions that it was anything other than an innocent glance, although every time he looked at me I felt a jolt of lust strike my body.
Mr Stevenson was handsome man, whom you could tell worked out from the way his clothes fit his body and the slight pull of the fabric from his muscular frame.
His blonde hair was well kept and trimmed, and he had brown eyes which always had an unreadable expression about them, as if he was pondering something unknown. He was young with fair skin and a smooth complexion, something which struck me every time I looked at his well-structured face. His clothes fit him well, and complemented the body underneath.
Normally I'd never look at a figure of authority twice. But the deep rooted attraction I felt towards him made him an exception to the rule. Maybe even something about him being my teacher, and the forbidden nature of a relationship between us, turned me on.
Often during the extra classes I would have flashes of what his body looked like underneath his suit or what he looked like in the midst of sexual pleasure. These usually came into my head involuntarily and brought a blush onto my face by their raunchy nature.
"Are you okay?" He asked me, snapping me out of my erotic daydream and bringing me back to reality, and I felt a sense of guilt as his concerned face glanced at me.
