Teaching Her A Lesson

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

(Closed for myself, and tigerlilyxx)

Name: Steve Wilkinson
Age: 35
Occupation: English teacher, football defensive line coach, former Army drill sergeant


Riiiiiiiiiiing

Chaos erupted in the class room, in the halls. Students were nearly running to the exit. Above the chaos he roared. “Don’t forget class, Romeo and Juliet paper is due next week! Come see me if you need any help!”

The class emptied in record time and for a moment there was silence and serenity in his classroom. He took his time erasing the chalk board. A thought occurred to him as he watched the chalk lines vanish under the work of the eraser. Was he like the chalk lines for these kids? There long enough to be observed, then as soon as that final bell rang washed away with no evidence of ever having existed. He grimaced at the thought. So many kids these days needed this class. Half of them didn’t speak English anymore, they spoke ‘ebonics’ or ‘l33tspeak’ or whatever labels were being placed on bastardized and uneducated off shoots of the English language.

These kids needed to learn how to speak properly and communicate in the written medium. Any hope they have of getting a job that doesn’t involve saying “Do you want fries with that?” will require them to be able to send an intelligible e-mail, and make sure they can spell the things correctly on their job application and resume.

The seal between chaos and order was broken. The outside roar in the halls was staggering, and he idly wondered if the decibel level was high enough to cause hearing damage. It was amazing how much noise can be generated by the slamming of locker doors, laughter, the shuffle of hundreds of feet. Doors opening and closing.

Riiiiiiiiiiing

He looked over those who had made it on time and frowned. Three kids missing. He was just about to ask if anyone knew where they were when one of those kids walked in. Oh she was a head turner that’s for sure, all the boys looked her direction, and so did a few of the girls. Sometimes she turned even his head he had to admit. She was of age though, so it wasn’t like he’d go to jail. No.. he’d just loose his job. Still, being attractive didn’t give you a license to do whatever you want. His voice was deep, and smooth; many had told him if teaching falls through he could be a late night radio dj.

“Becca! That is the third time this week you have been late. See me after class we need to talk.”

The customary “oooooohs” went out as everyone tried to embarrass the poor girl further. He wasn’t about to put up with it at all. His voice boomed over the noise in a rough, commanding, guttural tone. He had learned that from his time in the army.

“Enough, children. If you keep that up I will be adding another five pages to the requirements for your Romeo and Juliet paper.”

The classroom in unison mumbled petulantly “Sorry Mr. Wilkinson.”

“Now lets get to it shall we?”

He turned back to the chalk board and the rhythmic tapping of the chalk on the chalk board echoed through the room as he began speaking. This was how most of his time was spend during the day, his back to the students. With wavy light brown hair, and broad shoulders many of the female students had crushes on him. He stood at around six feet, two inches tall, and the man was no stranger to the gym. He was actually working with the football team this year, helping them organize their defensive line, and teaching the guys how to bulk up safely, and without drugs.

Turning from the board he called out his question. Deep, piercing blue eyes turned to the students who were trying to feign interest and failing miserably. “So who can tell me who Romeo fought with? Also why did this fight start? Anyone…? How about you, Miss Becca. ?”

*

Riiiiiiiiing

Students were running to the door as the bell rang, and he was sitting at his desk. It had been the last class for the day, everyone was eager to get him. Jotting down some notes quick on a note pad on his desk he looked up and locked eyes with Becca.

“Come on over Becca. We need to talk. Pull up a chair.”

He motioned beside himself so she could sit next to him. When she was settled into the chair he looked straight into her eyes she really did have beautiful eyes. His determination and was obvious in his gaze.

“What’s going on Becca? Coming in late, your grades are in a free fall. You are a smart, beautiful, talented woman. You can do better than this. What can I do to help?”

 

[tigerlilyxx]

From one class to another, again and again. It was so dull and repetitive. How did everyone else stand it? For the past month, Becca Varner had found it harder and harder to care about school. It wasn't that it was hard, no, quite the opposite. She rarely felt challenged anymore. Her apathy for the majority of her classes transferred over to the few classes that actually did challenge her, like English. She never found herself bothering to read the assigned work, because in every other class, she could skate by without it. Her math teacher, for one, never cared whether she even bothered showing up; Becca would pick up what she missed in a third of the time it took the rest of the class to grasp what a derivative was. Besides, if she wasn't there, the males were far less distracted.

As she made her way down the hall, taking her sweet time, she heard the bell ring signaling the start of class. She couldn't bring herself to care. She hated Shakespeare. It wasn't that she found him difficult to understand, like most that hated learning him. She appreciated his talent. But something about him and his plays irked her. She made it to the door and into the class, only a minute or two late, but it was late enough. She felt eyes on her, the other students using her tardiness as an excuse to look at her. She smiled internally, loving the attention, but her face remained blank and uncaring. Mr. Wilkinson’s deep voice called her out, telling her to see him after class, and she rolled her eyes. Why did he even care? He was possibly the only teacher that gave a shit. What was it to him if she passed or failed his class?

She’d started off the year well, possibly at the head of the class. She’d read and listened and participated. Maybe that’s why he cared. When his students did well, it reflected well on him, and she definitely had potential. That was really the only explanation that made sense. It wasn't like he had any other interest in her. Not because he was a teacher, no, she’d learned that that fact didn't matter much, especially once she was of age. But something about him struck her as different from the rest, and she couldn't imagine him seeing her that way.

She sat down, slumping down in her chair, and dropped her bag to the floor. For a few minutes, her blue eyes watched the words as they were written on the board. More Romeo and Juliet. She pulled out a notebook and flipped it open, grabbing a pen from the depths of her bag. For a moment she considered actually writing down what he wrote, taking proper notes, but the moment passed and the pen hit the paper not for words, but for pictures. She didn't bother pretending to be interested. She was pretty sure he already knew she didn't care. But, of course, he called on her anyway. She hadn't been listening to the question. She stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out what it had been. She probably wouldn't have known the answer, anyway.

“I don’t know,” she told him, shrugging. She couldn't blame him for calling on her. Every teacher called on the student that appeared to be paying the least amount of attention. But still, she felt anger. Calling her out when she walked in late hadn't been enough for him? She couldn't possibly have been the only student not paying attention.

If she’d been listening, she actually would have known the answer. It wasn't a hard question, and her basic knowledge of the story covered it. Romeo not only fought Tybalt, but killed him. Not that he didn't have it coming. She would have done the same if Tybalt had killed her friend. Mr. Wilkinson moved on, calling on someone else and leaving Becca to continue doodling in peace.

She jumped slightly when the bell rang. She watched as everyone rushed out the door and envied them. Instead, she had to stay and talk to him. She closed her notebook and dropped it into the bag. Maybe he’d forget, and she could get out. No such luck. When she looked up, his eyes met hers and he called her to him. She stood, sliding one arm through her bag, and walked over to him, grabbing a chair on her way and placing it next to him. Well, at least this broke the repetitive nature of the day. She sat, crossing one long denim covered leg over the other. She looked at him, his blue eyes locking with her own. Somehow, he made her feel nervous and much less at ease than she usually was. She figured it came from his military background. As he spoke, she wondered again why he cared so much.

Did he want honesty? He definitely seemed to think he wanted it, but how would that help either of them? “I don’t see how there’s anything you can do,” she told him. “I just don’t seem to care anymore.” Well, if he wanted honesty, she’d give it to him. “School’s gotten so repetitive and mundane. Class after class, teachers droning on and on to students who aren't absorbing ninety five percent of what they say.” Her fingers played with the hem of her baby blue tank top as she talked, a nervous habit from childhood she’d never quite kicked. “There’s no challenge anymore. In most of my classes, I can do perfectly fine without ever even picking up a textbook. It makes it hard to care, even about the classes that do challenge me.”

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

If looks could kill someone would have to walk behind Becca to dig mass graves. Not only was the woman smart and quick as a whip, but she had a body that reduced most men regardless of age into a mumbling idiot. He had seen it in action more than once. Most of the boys looked at her as if she were a Goddess descended from their most intense wet dreams, some of the girls did the same, and the rest sneered at her out of jealousy. She did not just have the body of a teen age girl, she had filled out and matured into a woman.

Even he had to admit as he looked her over, she was an eleven on a scale of one to ten. He wondered if that was how she was skating by in her classes and quickly decided he did not want the answer. The last thing he needed to think about was that gorgeous girl on her knees begging for an A. Just that thought made his cock twitch in his slacks. Thank god he was sitting behind a desk. He called on Becca once during class, hoping to engage her but it was a swing and a miss. He could read the irritation on her features before she went back to doddling in her note book.

Class wrapped up and she came to him and stole a chair to sit down next to him. He watched her cross her long slender legs and he felt a faint twitch in his slacks. He wished she had sat on the opposite side of the desk. He really did not want her to see the fact that being so close to her, looking at her was starting to give him a hard on. As their eyes met he felt his cock twitch again. The fabric of the slacks went taught around his growing length. Damn it!

He listened to her words quietly, absorbing it all. He mulled it over, trying to come up with a reasonable way to fix the problem. His eyes slowly slid along her body, taking in every curve. It was murder! His length wanted to just pop right out of the seams of his slacks. However this time the look had purpose, the words that followed tied it in and made it more than just a free look at her supple body.

“I get it Becca, really I do. It is hard to give a shit when you just know that you are smarter than everyone else in the room. You are not the only one who has ever felt this way. I know the school doesn’t over anything in the way of AP classes. Listen, you have so much talent, so many natural gifts. Don’t waste them. You could do anything you set your mind to. I am not just saying that in an insincere way either. Some people say that to kids to try and encourage them, but I mean it honestly here. You could be a runway model, or a rocket scientist. The sky is the limit. Don’t be the reason that you never learn to fly. Figure out what you want to do and chase it with boundless passion.”

He paused, looking back into her eyes. He knew he had to end this meeting, and quickly. His arousal was obviously showing in his slacks. She didn’t always have this effect on him, but.. it had been too long since he had been laid.

“I will do whatever I can to help you spark your interest in learning again. If it comes down to covering some more advanced content after school even that’s fine. You gotta meet me half way though Becca, you need to start doing your work, you need to start being on time. Show me that I am not wasting my time here and I promise we will find a way to leave you covered in sweat and panting… mentally that is.”

Fuck did he just flirt with her? Ok this had to end.

“When is a good day to meet after school for you? We can meet to discuss things further.”

He pulled the large desktop calendar open and scanned the top page. It was full of small, cramped hand written notes.

 

[tigerlilyxx]

Becca's looks weren't the only thing that made her desirable. No, with only looks, you only got so far. She could read men. Well, she could read boys. Men seemed to give her more trouble, she'd had less experience dealing with them. But there were similarities, and something about Mr. Wilkinson was throwing her off. There was something different about him, something that she'd never noticed before in the way he looked at her and talked to her. For a split second, she found herself flattered that such a man was looking at her that way. Half of his female students had crushes on him, and some of them made it quite obvious. She shook it off. She had to have been imagining it.

She shifted slightly in her seat, moving the leg on top underneath the other. When he spoke, she felt his eyes on her again, roaming her body, and she found herself blush ever so slightly. That wasn't something she did often. She felt herself smiling internally at his words. A runway model. It almost sounded like a cheesy pickup line. Again, though, she shook it off. This was her teacher. And not just any teacher. This was Mr. Wilkinson. A teacher that dealt with schoolgirl crushes on a regular basis, and walked away from them all, as far as she knew. He wasn't like her other teachers. She kept her eyes on his, refusing to let her thoughts wander.

"Show me that I am not wasting my time here and I promise we will find a way to leave you covered in sweat and panting… mentally that is.”

Whoa, did he just say that. She perked an eyebrow and sat up a little straighter, another blush rising to her face. How did he manage to do that to her? Twice in one conversation. If anyone else had said those things, she would have laughed them out of the room. But him… he had an effect on her. And she wasn't sure if she liked it. This time, though, she couldn't shake off the thoughts. That was something. There was no way to deny it. Sure, he may have been a bit out of practice, but it was an attempt.

“When is a good day to meet after school for you? We can meet to discuss things further.”

Wait, what? After school? Meeting? After what he just said? For a moment, she wondered what had happened to the confident girl she’d been five minutes ago. Now, she was flustered and shy. What on earth was he doing to her? She bit her lip for a moment, too hard. Her tongue slid out, slowly, to sooth it, and she calmed herself.

“I’m pretty busy after school,” she lied. Really, recently, she’d been bored with the things she’d used to do. High school guys didn't do anything for her anymore, and partying always ended up the same way. It was boring and tiresome. She wasn't exactly sure why she was lying to him, but a part of her felt the need to. She would have lied to anyone else, just the same, just to keep up appearances. But there was no reason to lie to him. She did it anyway. “But I guess tomorrow would work.” She paused. Why was she even agreeing to this? She didn't care. So why did he?

"Look, Mr. Wilkinson, I appreciate that you give a-" she stopped herself before cursing, like she would have with any other teacher. Why? Fuck it. "A fuck," she continued, forcing herself to act normal, despite what was happening. Despite the fact that he'd hit on her, despite the fact that a part of her found herself wanting nothing more than to meet him after school. It wasn't normal. She didn't want guys like that. Guys came to her. Always. "But I really, really don't. So why do you?"

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

He watched the color bloom across her features several times. He couldn’t help but smile as he noticed it. Obviously he was effecting her, and that made him feel a little more comfortable despite the bumbling idiot he had been a moment ago. If he did decide to put the moves on her which was ABSOLUTELY NOT what he was doing, she would have been receptive. When a beautiful woman reacts to flirtation it is a hell of a confidence booster. Still he could not continue thinking about that sort of thing, at least not with her so close to him. Not when he could smell her perfume, when it would be so easy to reach out and touch her soft, milky skin.

That natural strength and power that always radiated him came flooding back. He was in control again, despite his obvious arousal. He looked into her eyes and felt his length twitch against his slacks. Damn those eyes of hers! He could imagine looking down into them in any number of situations, and they all flooded through his head in a quick stream. It was almost distracting enough for him to miss her words; almost.

“I’m pretty busy after school,”

He raised a brow at her words, staring deep and intensely into her eyes, despite the overwhelming urges that scoured him. Despite everything he was offering her a chance at special attention to get her to pass this class and she was ‘too busy’ to take him up on his offer? His displeasure was obvious in his features.

“But I guess tomorrow would work.”

His displeasure faded as she offered up a meeting for tomorrow. Scribbling it into his calendar with a nod of his head. Then she started talking again and he listened with a perked brow. She stumbled over the word fuck and he couldn’t help but grin inwardly. If he gave her a fuck, she wouldn’t be asking why, she would be asking for more. He couldn’t say that of course, and this sudden intense attraction was something he would have to address, but for now he did what he could to keep it under control.

“Why do I give a fuck?”

His voice was deep, almost silky but with a rough edge. He continued to speak.

“Because I am dead serious when I say you have the potential to do anything you want. Seeing you waste it and throw it out is not something I am willing to just stand by and accept. So if I have to motivate you a little bit to see you thrive then I’m going to do that. The thing is Becca, students like you don’t come around often. You have everything going for you, there is no reason to waste it because you are too apathetic to care. If you want to piss everything away I can’t stop you, but I am going to try to convince you there are smarter choices.”

There, it was out. That was as much of the truth as he could possibly give to her. Anything more would skirt being indecent. He broke her gaze and turned his eyes back to the desk calendar.

“Ok, what time tomorrow, and where would you like to meet?”

 

[tigerlilyxx]

She looked back at him, into his eyes, and for a split second, thoughts she shouldn't have had ran through her brain. She blinked, clearing her head, and listening to him instead.

Something about the way he said "fuck" sent a shiver up Becca's spine, another blush to her face. Maybe it was just his voice, the word leaving his mouth in such a deep tone. Maybe she was reading into the word, taking it to mean more than it had a moment ago when she'd said it. She wasn't sure exactly what it was. But it had an effect on her.

As he told her why he cared, she listened carefully, hoping to hear something that would explain it. But what he said didn't seem to clear anything up. He basically told her what she'd heard many times over. She was unique, she was special, she had potential. But why did that make it his problem? Why was he taking extra time out of his day to help her? He was leaving something out, and she found herself hoping she knew exactly what that something was.

"Ok, what time tomorrow, and where would you like to meet?"

She shrugged. This was his idea. It's not like she met with teacher's after school often. Where did students and teachers usually meet? "I don't know where," she told him. "Aren't meetings like this usually held at school?" She wasn't sure, but it sounded like it made sense. Where else would it be? He was leaving it all up to her. She wondered momentarily if he had a life. Surely he had other things to do. His schedule couldn't have been completely empty, waiting to be filled by meeting his students. "I have to go home right after school... Does six work?" She wasn't even sure if the school would still be open at six.

Why was she doing this? Why was she agreeing to let him help her? What could he even offer her? It wasn't just his motives she was curious about, she wasn't sure of her own. She didn't think there was anything he could do for her. She just didn't care. How could he possibly change that?

She bit her bottom lip, white teeth digging lightly into the pink flesh. He made her nervous, anxious for something, though she didn't quite know what. And she didn't like it. It wasn't who she was. No one had that effect on her. She was always the one in control. So why did she feel so powerless now? Again her fingers moved to play with the hem of her shirt, fidgeting in the least obvious way she could.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

He digested her words, and then a frown came to his features. Well they had a problem, there would be a few ways to fix it. He would leave the ball in her court.

“Well six will work for me. I can move some things around to get it to work, however by then the school will be closed. We could meet somewhere else if you would still want to? A coffee shop, or the public library. Worst case scenario you can swing by my place for a little while. What do you think would work for you, Becca?”

After a moment of internal reflection himself he pulled out a piece of paper. His hand glided and flowed across the parchment. Then he folded it up, and handed it to her. “Here. This is my address and phone number. Let me know where you want to meet and I will be there. I have a lot of things to do between now and then to be able to free up the time for you, so I need to get started. Please call me if you cannot be there. I am going the extra mile for you, do not make me regret it.”