A Teasing Tug-of-War (Lord Dakol and Mariee)

The weather around the school was surprisingly warm for what was supposed to be a cold day. Students waited for the bell to ring, not bothered by the uniforms they wore; dark shirts and vests and tan pants for the boys, and sleeve-cut tops and short skirts for the girls.

Mark Hadleigh listened to the roaring murmur of voices as he strode into the school yard, ignoring the glances from some of the girls around. He was wearing a white dress shirt that was loosely worn around his torso to hide the toned muscles, tucked underneath black pants, tightened by a belt. A young man of twenty-seven, his hair was a dark brown, cut short but still leaving an attractive collection of bangs on his forehead. Bright green eyes were dimmed by the wire-thin glasses he wore upon he nose, lending him a studious, handsome look.

His eyes flickered to the skirts that all of the girls wore, but paid no attention except for exasperation. Could the principal be more obvious as a pervert? At least make it more subtle, he thought, placing his head in one of his hands as he sighed. It was the start of a new school year, and that meant new students. He sincerely hoped there wouldn't be much trouble this year.

Entering his classroom, he set down the messenger bag onto the desk and organized his things a bit better. He glanced at the calender that was neatly slid underneath a plastic viewing plate, and sighed, knowing he didn't have much to do this month; or rather, this year. He supposed that not having a girlfriend would do that to a man.

Finally, the bell rang, and Mark sat on the edge of the desk, waiting for students to come in.

Vanessa Hoffmann sauntered through the hallways, her class schedule clutched in her hand. It was a yearly ritual, find homeroom, and then find her friends. However she managed to get there a little late that morning, so she doubted she would see anyone until lunch.

Chocolaty eyes scanned the room numbers, and finally a smile tugged the corner of her lush lips up into a smile. She took a moment to glance down at the teacher’s name. 'M. Hadleigh? Who the hell is that?' She thought to herself, and could vaguely remember people talking about him in the previous years. The classroom door was open, but she decided against going in. Shrugging, she shoved the paper into her bag and pivoted on her heel. 'Whatever, anyone is better than that old hag I had last year.' Her thoughts trailed back, recalling how she made that class as miserable for the teacher as the teacher made it for the students. Now Vanessa wouldn't call herself a trouble-maker per say, but she did have a mouth.

The sound of the bell made her pause.

"Damnit!" She cursed loudly; annoyed that she didn't get any time to see anyone. Turning once more she made it back to the classroom, trailing in behind a few other students. Glancing around the room at the free desks, she made a modest tug down on her skirt. Then made a bee-line for the back corner, and silently hoped they wouldn't be getting assigned seating once everyone settled in.

Her hair was in a messy bun, and a few dark brown locks fell to frame her face. Blowing the strands away from her eyes, she turned to look at teacher once she sat down. Her eyes trailed over him, and she gave a subtle smirk. Now she could see why he was talked about. The girl was half tempted to change seats, just a little bit closer. However someone she knew came down to sit in the seat in front of her. People were piling in, conversations of the students filling up the classroom.

It wasn't long until students began to come in. He heard the droning chatter of voices, ignoring them as he got out the day's materials. However, his eyes flickered towards the beautiful brunette that walked in. He subtly trailed his sight down her figure, stopping at her chest and flesh of her thighs, before becoming hidden beneath the skirt she wore. For once, he was thankful for the dress code that the principal exacted. Mark noticed the chocolate-esque hue of her eyes before he cleared his throat and looked away, gently pushing up his glasses with his middle finger.

"Hello class," Mark said as the second bell rang, "I'll be your English teacher this year, and I hope we can get along without trouble."

"Now, my policy at the beginning of the year is to have each student introduce themselves, giving your name, age, and something we don't know about you. I'll start, eh?" he straightened his stance, his gaze piercing into each student. "My name is Mark Hadleigh. I am twenty-seven years old, and I also teach the History of Music. We'll continue by rows, starting on the right."

As each student responded, some hesitant but most casual with giving details, his gaze fell upon the same young girl again as it was her turn to speak.

Vanessa listened intently as her teacher spoke, his voice warming her. Leaning her elbow on her desk, she allowed her head to gently rest as other students began to introduce themselves. Unable to help herself however, her gaze would occasionally flicker to Mr. Hadleigh, just to trail her eyes over him.

When his emerald gaze met hers, she sat straight and wiped off the lazy smile on her face.

"I'm Vanessa Hoffmann. I'm currently the lovely age of 17, and I-" Her voice was then cut off by her friend sitting in front of her.

"Can tie a cherry stem in a knot with your tongue." A small ripple of laughter ran through the students.

Reaching out with her foot, Vanessa jammed it into her friend's leg. There was a barely noticeable tint of red on her cheeks, and she glared at the friend in front of her. Sure she could tie a knot in a cherry stem, but the whole class didn't need to know that. Rolling her dark orbs in a playful manner, a smirk flashed on her lips. Moving her gaze back to Mr. Hadleigh, she gave a small shrug. "Yes, but I also play the piano." Leaning back in her chair, she let her hands fall onto her lap.

As Vanessa introduced herself, Mark's thoughts flickered on for the wildest second when she mentioned her age. Dammit, she isn't legal!
The young man mentally slapped himself, closing his eyes as his features hardened before Vanessa was interrupted by a friend of hers, prompting him to open his eyes to look at her.

Even if the comment wasn't true, it meant that Vanessa was potentially a very good kisser and/or exceptionally skilled at sucking a guy off. How and why he thought of that was unknown, and cleared his throat as she spoke again. Once Vanessa was done, the rest of the class followed until it was his turn to teach.

"All right, now that everyone knows everyone, we'll be starting on the literature of early Italy, making note of the authors of "The Prince" and "The Divine Comedy". Can anyone tell me who these authors are?" he asked, looking out over the class.

Lightly bouncing a knee out of habit, Vanessa gave a silent sigh as nobody answered the question. "Niccolo Machiavelli and...Dante...something?" She said out loud, not bothering to raise a hand. Pursing her lips into a fine line, she ignored the stares and raised eyebrows of her classmates.

Feeling a vibration against her side, a frown came over her features. The only question was what was the text about? Attempting to be stealthy, she waited for a moment where her teacher’s eyes would be off of her, and carefully slid her hand underneath her shirt a bit. Nimble fingers moved to the rim of her skirt, where the phone was tucked between her skin and cloth. Pulling it up and out slowly, she pretended to look casual as she glanced down at the small device.

The teen had to choke back a laugh. *Mark = yay or nay?* Shaking her head, she glanced up at the teacher. There was an amused and mischievous sparkle in Vanessa's eyes. This could be a very fun game, and decided she would play it. Taking a chance, she began texting back a reply, while trying to listen to what was going on around her.

Mark sighed gently when no one had raised their hands; but the unannounced voice of Vanessa surprised Mark into silence, his eyes wide with shock. He then recovered and cleared his throat. "Y-Yes, that's correct. Niccolo Machiavelli wrote "The Prince" and Dante Aligheri wrote "The Divine Comedy". Very nice, Miss Hoffmann," he said, smiling pleasantly at her before nodding. "Yes, these two were especially influential, but for now we will discuss signor Machiavelli. Several rulers and tyrants have admitted to reading it like they would the bible, for one reason; the strategy of war. Even Hitler had said that he kept a copy of his book on his bedside..."

An hour later, the bell rang, dismissing students from the confines of Mark's class. He cleaned up the white-board nicely and turned around, preparing to sit down in his seat when Vanessa passed his desk. His eyes took a quick up-down glance at her before smiling. "That was very good, Miss Hoffmann. I hope you will be this responsive for the rest of the year," Mark said, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands over his torso.

As the class went on, Vanessa leaned forward, staring intently at her English teacher. From the way his lips moved, to the way his hands gripped the marker for the whiteboard. She couldn't help but let the impure thoughts take her off into a fantasy land, and she'd catch herself staring at him instead of the board. There was an enjoyment in teasing males, but she wondered if she could push this man to his limits?

When the bell finally rang, she let out a quiet groan as she stood. Somehow she had a feeling her next class wasn't going to be as enjoyable, and was lost once more in her thoughts until she heard her name. Giving a pivot on her heel to face Mr. Hadleigh, she returned his smile. "I will most certainly be responsive. Is orally the only way you prefer?" The start of her sentence was in an innocent tone, but there was a slyness that wrapped itself around the second half of her words. "Have a good morning, sir." She added, turning back around and beginning to walk out of the classroom.

Mark was completely under control when he spoke to Vanessa, leaning back with an air of confidence... that is, until she responded. His embarrassment didn't register until she spoke again, and a very light tint of red appeared on his cheek when he analyzed her sentence. Oh god, what the hell am I thinking? he thought as she left, and stole a quick glance towards her ass, looking away if she had looked back.

The day was uneventful until lunch, when Mark got his things and left to the teacher's lounge, striding briskly towards the room, not noticing Vanessa to his far left, where she sat with her friends.

"You are such a whore. I can't believe you said that." One girl spoke, her eyes trained on Vanessa. However there was a grin on her face, showing that she was teasing. "Where are you going?"

"Am not Emma, I just know what I like." Vanessa retorted, standing. "Cafeteria. I'm hungry."

"Better hurry up, the line is going to be massive." Emma responded. Vanessa gave a nod, and began to jog down the hall. But at the sound of her name being called, she turned her head to shout a response. However she knocked into someone, her wallet dropping to the floor. "Sorry!" She called, bending to her knees to pick up her property.

Grasping the wallet in hand, she noticed she crashed into someone with very nice shoes. Nice pants, and...Oh. As her eyes finally moved upwards, she caught the gaze of her teacher. Barely catching the laughter of her friends, she noticed her head was at his waist-height, and she wasn't too far from him. Throwing a glare in her group's direction, she stood up quickly. "Sorry Sir. Wasn't watching where I was going." She spoke, giving a slight smile.

Just as Mark scratched the back of his head, he felt a fast - albeit soft - collision with a young woman. The blow barely made him move, but the result was that the girl tumbled to the ground. "Oh, are you-?"

He stopped, noticing who it was that bumped into him . . . and where her head was. Mark's stance stiffened for a moment and glanced away, shooing away the thoughts that plagued his mind. "Miss Hoffmann, are you all right?" he asked, then waved away her concern, "I'm completely fine."

Seeing that she only dropped her wallet, he glanced around before looking back at her. "So, how is school treating you, eh?" asked Mark, crossing his arms and inadvertently flexing the toned muscles beneath his shirt.

"Yeah I'm fine. Geeze, I'm a ripe young woman, a simple blow won't affect me! Have more faith in today's youth Mr. Hadleigh. We aren't all dumb and weak." Vanessa scolded with a fake tone of superiority in her voice.

When her teacher crossed his arms, her eyes couldn't help but watch. "Er...school?" She began, clearly thinking of other things then his question. However as if realizing what she was doing, her gaze snapped back to his. "Oh! It's going just fine, thank you. I'm pretty sure my biology teacher hates me even more this year than she did last. And that, takes talent." She grinned, but then thought about how that could make her look. "Don't start thinking I'm a bad student though."

Stealing a glance at her friends, she noticed they were watching with interest. But with a warning glare, they found something else to look at. Turning her eyes back to him, she clasped her hands behind her back, the wallet still being gripped tightly. "And you? How has the morning with a ton of crazy kids been?”

Mark held up his hands in mock self-defense. "Hey hey, I was just being polite. No need to get snippy with me, Miss Hoffmann," he replied with a smile and deep chuckle.

Quirking an eyebrow at Vanessa's answer, he shook his head, clicking his tongue, "Too late. You're on my list of students to watch out for."

"It's going fine. I haven't had anyone else tell me about their special talent with their tongue; albeit, it was one of your friends, but still," Mark replied, then realized what he was saying. Was he making conversation about Vanessa's tongue? Shit.

"Me? On your list to watch out for?" There was a slight tone of 'surprise' to her words, but a smirk formed on her lips. "Just because one teacher has a problem with me being mouthy, doesn't mean you will."

Vanessa had to force down at grin, and she tilted her head to the side slightly. There was no way she was missing this chance. "Well, I'm glad my tongue and its 'special talent' stuck in your mind. Hm, maybe you would enjoy me misbehaving from time to time...?" She trailed off, leaving it for whatever interpretation he had in mind. "But I must be keeping you from your lunch break."

With that said, she walked by him, letting her hand rest on his arm for a few seconds. “See you later.” Vanessa continued down the hall, remaindering herself to thank her friend for speaking out in class about her that morning.

"I hope not. I like having you in class," Mark said, not knowing if his words were being identified as casual or flirting. He hoped not; that was one thing he didn't need: trouble.

But, it seemed that Vanessa wasn't feeling the same way. The young man pursed his lips as he registered her words, and clearly saw the suggestion behind them. "No, that's not w-what I-" he cleared his throat, beginning to feel a bit hot under the collar.

"Y-Yeah, I'll see you," Mark said, coughing slightly as he walked away, his face hot with embarrassment. Please don't have anymore classes with me, please don't have anymore classes with me, he thought urgently, trying his best to think about other things.

Vanessa spent fourth period basically ignoring her math class. There was a twisted sense of satisfaction she got when Mark got all flustered, she enjoyed doing that to him.

"Hoffmann! Pay attention." The sound of the teacher caused her to sit upright, and pick up her pencil once more. The last ten minutes of the class seemed to drag on. However the sound of the bell snapped nearly everyone out of their bored stupor. Gratefully, she rushed out of that hellhole and into the crowded hallways.

A friend latched onto her arm, asking her what the last class of the day was. Vanessa's dark orbs scanned the schedule, quickly spotting her fifth period. She nearly laughed; this was almost too good to be true. "Music."

Lunch was absolutely unbearable. Mark's thoughts constantly wandered to Vanessa's words, ringing endlessly in his mind as he ate his sandwich. It even went so far as he didn't hear the other staff members greeting him and attempting to talk to him.

However, the rest of the classes, he had a break. He was able to concentrate solely on the students, the lingering voice of the young woman in the back of his mind. He thought he was all right now. But his attendance sheet said otherwise. Among the list of names, "Vanessa Hoffman" was right in the middle. Since no one else was present in the room, Mark vented a bit. "WHAT?! OH, COME ON!" he shouted, then immediately shut himself up, throwing the paper on the desk as he sat on the edge of it, crossing his arms as the bell rang. Students began to come in, and he prayed silently that she would ditch the class.

Vanessa parted ways with her friend, entering the music class. Her eyes scanned the room for a seat, but managed to linger over to Mark. He almost looked...troubled. Hiding a smug look that was begging to surface, she focused on finding a seat in the room. It proved to not be difficult, one of her male friends waving her over.

Taking a seat, the grin appeared. Her friend followed her line of sight, finding it to be on the teacher. "What? You planning on pissing him off too?" He asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. Vanessa laughed, patting him on the arm before getting her books out of her bag.

"Something like that." She responded as the second bell rang, and the class went mostly quiet. It seemed the excitement had worn down, the students a bit more tired in contrast to the morning classes.

Oh . . . damn. Apparently whoever was up above loved fucking with him; or rather, Vanessa loved to. As the students walked, finding their seats, Mark got to his feet and walked behind his desk, placing his hands on the flat of the desk. He scanned the class, his gaze lingering on her a second longer than what was appropriate, and cleared his throat.

"All right. My name Mark Hadleigh, and I teach the History of Music. Now, I begin the class with wanting to know each of my students, so I want you give me your name, age, and a thing we don't know about you," he said, then rethought and quickly said, "But for those of you who have already done this, it's fine. You don't need to." He would rather not have another thing to be thinking of, if the case arose.

After the introductions were done, Mark sat in his chair, placing the tips of his fingers against each other as he spoke. "In front of you is your first assignment. I want you to tell me what sort of music you like best and why. When you're finished, bring it up here," Mark instructed, settling back into teaching mode.

A slight snicker left her lips, as she was passed over during the introductions. A few others were treated in the same manner, but she would have loved to give Mark something else to ponder.

Picking up a pen, Vanessa began to do as instructed. Classical was a hidden taste, inspiring her love of piano. Rock because she grew up with it, learning to love the bands and music the genre had to offer. It was a well written paragraph or so, just a few details and entirely appropriate for what was asked. She moved to stand up, but thought better of it at the last minute. In truth, she didn't really enjoy the last type she put down, but figured it'd be a nice play on words. All it took was one sentence.

'Rap too, sometimes it feels great to just break the rules and play dirty.'

A few people were ahead of her, but she waited patiently to hand it in. The teen gave no hint of having written anything suggestive, and gave it to Mark with a pleasant smile when it was finally her turn.

Mark was relieved that Vanessa hadn't taken the chance to redo her introduction, and nodded silently at the other responses.

It didn't take long for people to start coming up; after all, writing about why you love a certain genre of music wasn't hard. One by one, he silently read the paragraphs, nodding in thanks to the students before they went back to their seats and sat down.

When Vanessa's turn came, Mark took the paper with a quick quirk of his eyebrow. His eyes silently scanned, impressed with the reasons that she came up with for her music. It was all well and good until the last genre, however.

His back stiffened and his eyes widened as he once again saw the meaning behind the words. Then again, it wasn't all that hard. Mark glanced up at her, reading her innocent and pleasant expression before a more obvious tint of red showed on his cheeks. "Um," Mark coughed nervously, "Thank you, Miss Hoffman. You can, uh . . . go back to your seat."

What was she playing at?

As soon as the blush disappeared and Vanessa went back to her seat, Mark stood up and exhaled lightly. "Okay, thank you for all of your - ahem - lovely responses," Mark glanced at Vanessa, "Now we can start, mainly at the genre of folk music..."

The young teacher made it through class, though he managed to stumble over his words a few times, and sighed in relief when the last bell of school rang. "All right. I'll see you all tomorrow; I'll have a quiz for you on today's genre, so be prepared." Mark said. He turned around cleaning off the white board before he undid a button on his shirt; it wasn't much, but it made things cooler for him and exposed just a tiny bit of his athletic physique.

A shadow of a smirk played on her lips behind her otherwise pleasant demeanour. This class passed much like English had, her watching his movements, but offering answers once in a while. Vanessa's mind kept replaying the image of his reddened cheeks, which never failed to provide a slight ego boost on her end. It was a lot of fun to push Mark, the small reactions worth it and making her want to see something bigger.

The bell rang, and it was an automatic response to slide her eyes to the clock. Had the day passed already? She had a feeling this semester was going to be a lot more enjoyable then her previous years in school.

Picking up her bag, she moved down the lines, towards the door. However when she cast a last glance at Mark, she paused, watching him unbutton his shirt a little bit. Raising a brow, she waved her friend on, deciding to test her limits before she left.

Once she was the last student that had to leave, she crossed her arms and held her ground near the doorway. "Y'know sir, keep going farther with your shirt, and you might have a few people questioning you. Just like if I was to hike up my skirt some. Not that I'm complaining." Her eyes sweeped over his figure as he stood looking away from her, a flirty smile on her face.

Unfortunately, Mark wasn't expecting Vanessa to linger about. So when her voice reached his ears and commented about the state of his shirt and her own skirt, he blinked. He decided to respond, at least with some level of cool.

"It's hot today. Can you blame me for wanting to cool down?" Mark replied, shaking his head before he turned around, crossing his arms as he looked at her. "Is there something you needed, Miss Hoffmann? If not, I'm in hurry," he lied. His stance told her that he wasn't in a rush; Mark just wanted her out of his hair.

"Can you blame me for wanting to hike up my skirt?" Vanessa retorted, not skipping a beat. Though she purposely left out why.

Shrugging her shoulders at his question, she looked at him. Though this time was to figure out if he actually did need to go, but he wasn't collecting his things. Nor was he moving from his spot, was she bugging him? The thought nearly made her giggle. "Well, there is something I want. I'm not necessarily in the stage of needing it yet though." Glancing at the clock, she sighed. "Maybe that is best left for now though, since you're in such a 'hurry'."

"Yeah, I can. There's no need for it," Mark shot back, cocking an eyebrow, challenging the young woman before him. Of course, there was always reason for wanting to pull a skirt up and expose underneath, but he would rather not get into that at the moment.

Mark narrowed his eyes. What was she talking about? "I am..." he said, then his eyes went wide, noticing his mistake. At the drop of a hat, he moved towards his desk, grabbing his bag, keys, cellphone. Looking at Vanessa as he neared her, he gestured towards the door, "If you please."