In a way you felt sorry for her. Even to the point of trying to pay attention yourself. The class, a mixture of senior boys and girls, would much rather joke around and play on their phones.You notice your teacher wiping her brow, then quietly pleading to the class to try and focus for the remaining half of the hour. Her blue eyes meet yours, seeming hopeful to have at least one student listening to her.Stacy Bickler was one of the younger teachers at Westside High. Her face, and body for that matter, looked younger than her twenty-seven years. You make note that she seems to be trying to hide her figure under a sensible outfit, but her wide hips and firm breasts still fill out the skirt suit she has chosen today.Her dirty-blonde hair tied up in a loose bun, combined with her outfit, gave her the makings of a naughty librarian. Or teacher in this case. As your eyes follow along her form, you feel the familiar warmth of your erection growing down your pant leg. Luckily there's still. The only thing she hates more than cats is me and you should hear what she likes to do to cats.”“Mrs. Emery doesn’t hate cats,” his mother said laughing.“You haven’t talked to her about cats,” Sean said shaking a finger at his mother.His mother shoved the flowers in his hand and said, “Go before you’re late.”“I would have been there a half an hour ago if you hadn’t kept sending me back to my room,” Sean said.It was a minute drive to Suzie’s house. He had to drive past the Baxter’s house. Mr. Baxter was out by the street getting the mail from the mail box. The look he gave Sean when he drove past was not friendly. It sent shivers down Sean’s spine.He pulled into the driveway at Suzie’s house and came to a stop. He had no idea where to park his mother’s car. He sat there for a minute and then decided that he’d park next to Mrs. Emery’s car and hoped that her father had somewhere else to park. He got out and headed towards the door. Although he had been half tempted to leave the bouquet.
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