Don't Stand So Close To Me (Scathelocke/Mim)

[Madam Mim]

"It's pedophilia, plain and simple!"

"The textbook even says: 'Athenian law considered consent, not age, as a factor in regulating sexual behavior.' So if the boys consented, what's the problem?"

"The problem is that they were sold to these dirty old men, and--!"

"And it was part of military initiation."

"Are you really defending pedophilia, Julie?"

Talia watched the debate, half-turned in her seat, lips wrapped around her pen. Mr. Hadleigh had moved on from Rome to Ancient Greece as part of their European history survey course, and at the textbook's mention of Greece's pederasty practices things had gotten rather...heated. She wasn't interested so much in the debate itself, however, so much as she was interested in Mr. Hadleigh. She had made a decision on the second day of her junior year, after all, that one way or another she would have him. And Talia was very much used to getting whoever she wanted. Now, a month and a half into the school year, she had caught him sneaking occasional glances whenever the top button of her uniform mysteriously came unbuttoned, or when she sat with her knees spread just enough to tempt him to try and peek up her skirt. But it was still only occasional. She supposed that gold band on his left hand had something to do with that, but it would only make the conquest sweeter when she finally had him. Half the fun was the chase after all, wasn't it?

Now she sat slouched in her front row desk, knees slightly apart and cocked at an angle to keep an eye on the debate, slowly sliding the pen in and out of her mouth in a suggestive way. It was all very innocent, of course; a girl like her wouldn't dream of being sexually active, never mind with an older man! Talia had worked very hard to cultivate her image as a good girl, and made sure her partners stayed quiet about it.

"It's because it's a man and a boy," she interrupted. The handful of classmates who had been most engaged in the debate turned to look at her. She shrugged. "When you learn about this queen or that countess being married off against their will at age 10 or 15 or whatever, you don't bat an eye. And like Julie said," she jabbed at the textbook with the cap of her pen, "Athenian law considered consent, not age. Beethoven wrote "Fur Elise" for an 18-year-old girl he proposed to when he was 43. Hell, even today: Mick Jagger, Elvis Presley, Marvin Gaye, pretty much any rock star; Jimmy Page kidnapped a 14-year-old, Ted Nugent has a based-on-a-true-story song called "Jailbait," and Jerry Lee Lewis married his 13-year-old cousin. But you don't talk about how sick they are." She gestured vaguely at Martin Lennox, one of the most vocal debaters. Occasionally they'd hook up in the library stacks during fourth period if she was between conquests, or couldn't find a real man, and didn't feel like participating in gym class. Talia had a suspicion Mr. Hadleigh had also been in the library last Thursday when she'd ironically been on her knees in the Women's History section. She had seen a motion between the shelves out of the corner of her eye as she had been wiping her chin with Martin's shirttail. "Pop culture is full of songs glorifying ephebophilia, and there's not a girl in here who wouldn't jump Johnny Depp if she had the chance." She grinned at the varied murmurs of female agreement. Fresh off of Don Juan, Depp had definitely earned his place as a teen heartthrob. "And any time you hear about a guy our age sleeping with his friend's hot mom or something it's all 'oh he's so lucky,' not 'what a perv that chick is.'"

"These kids are like, fourteen or fifteen though!" Martin argued. "I mean it's called the age of consent for a reason!"

"Yeah, and most of the people in this room are like sixteen." Talia shrugged. "So are you saying you don't posses the consciousness, reasoning, or self-determination to consent to getting laid?" She smirked at the chuckles this elicited and propped one ankle up on her knee, her body still twisted in her seat so that her legs still faced Mr. Hadleigh at his desk. "These guys were our age, plenty old enough to consent, and consent was required for this sort of initiation. Just admit that you think it's gross because you hate the idea of two guys doin' it, even though you'll go steal your brother's dirty mags with girl-on-girl action. Or maybe you think it's gross coz you don't hate the idea."

There were more giggles, but when the flushing Martin opened his mouth to rebut the bell rang. Instantly she disengaged, as though he no longer existed to her; she knew he got off on being publicly humiliated anyway. Even if he didn't, she knew he would still keep meeting her in the stacks. For all his posturing and bullying the nerds, Martin Lennox had a very low sense of self-worth and that suited Talia's needs just fine, just as she suited his. This was all confirmed when he dropped a note on her desk as he passed while she was packing her books up. Smiling quietly to herself, she slipped it into her bag without opening it. She had other concerns for right now.

When she had seen Lolita on the syllabus for English class, Talia had known just when she ought to make her move on Mark Hadleigh. Finally, they had just started the book on Monday so it was quite reasonable for her to have the book in her possession. The line of students setting their essays on Mr. Hadleigh's desk blocked her from his view just long enough for her to slip several Polaroids just inside the cover of the book, where they would easily fall out, and "accidentally" leave it in her seat. With a sweet smile at her favorite teacher, she set her essay on the corner of his desk on top of the others and left without another word. Martin would be waiting for her, anyway, in the biographies according to his note.

With the classroom empty for his planning period, it would be easy for Mark to notice the book laying in a chair in the front row. Stuck loosely inside the front cover, should he pick it up four Polaroids would fall to the floor, all of Talia Dean in various states of undress and unaware of the camera. Several months ago she had discovered her stepfather's stash of pictures in his nightstand while fetching something from it for her mother. Phil was a dirty old bastard who didn't stand a chance with her, but she hadn't mentioned it just in case she needed to raid the drawer for just such an occasion as this. In one photo she had clearly just stepped out of the shower and the towel was only partly draped around her, revealing her hip, ribs, and the side of her breast. In another she was still in her uniform, but had bent over to retrieve something and her panties were clearly visible with her skirt falling up over her rear nearly to her hips. In the third she was changing, her white shirt unbuttoned to the waist but only a hint of her breasts showing, just enough to be tantalizing but not enough to give anything away. In the last Polaroid she was laying on her bed, panties pulled down around her knees. Her skirt was still draped in such a way that it hid anything of interest, but it couldn't hide her sublime expression or the hand that had clearly slipped between her thighs.

Mark's occasional, furtive glances had proven to her that he had weaknesses that could be exploited, and his ring only made her more determined to wrap him in her web. What he did with the photos, whether he gave them back, whether he said anything about them, would decide just how she proceeded next. But the one thing that Talia was certain of was that she would have Mark Hadleigh, and that this would be the beginning of that. For both of them.

 

[Scathelocke]

It was a different kind of school day for everyone involved in Mark Hadleigh’s class, including Mark himself. They had recently finished studying and learning about the Roman era and began reading about Ancient Greece. He assumed that the topic they were on about now was going to become controversial, but the History teacher didn’t mind. After all, debates and arguments bred more knowledge for the young minds in his class, and it also opened him up to new opinions and experiences, for which he was eternally grateful for. He sat at his desk, arms crossed with the textbook opened to the appropriate page, staying silent as the students argued with one another, a proud smile playing on his lips.

But Mark found it difficult to maintain full attention to all of his students because of one in particular: Talia. His eyes continued to flicker in her direction, unable to keep his gaze off of her for long, watching the pen slowly glide in and out of her plump lips. The teacher subconsciously moved his fingers over the gold band on his ring finger, feeling the thick metal under his skin. He tried to ignore her to the best of his ability, reminding himself that she was just a child that didn’t know any better, but it was hard to do. However, the glimpse of what he had seen last Thursday was threatening to upturn every opinion he had of her; Mark didn’t truly see anything, but the brief image of Talia on her knees was enough to linger in his mind.

She began to speak, and Mark looked upon her without fear of being creepy. Talia was incredibly smart and gifted; one of his best students, and the way she spoke and did her work made it show effortlessly. His expression shifted from pride and joy to embarrassment as she turned her legs to face him, and he could have sworn that he saw a glimpse of what lay waiting beneath her skirt and between her supple thighs. Looking away, he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat to hear the bell ring. With a smile, he clapped his hands.

“All right, good work class! That was an amazing sight to see. I hope we’ll be able to pick this up tomorrow, and then we’ll move on to the basic of government for Ancient Greece. You’re all dismissed,” he announced, watching everyone as they placed their papers on his desk for grading.

Talia was one of the last to leave, smiling cutely at Mark while she put her own essay on the top before leaving. “Have a good day, Ms. Dean,” he said, trying not to look at her while she walked out, but couldn’t help but steal and glanced at her slender, perfect figure.

Once they were all gone, Mark stood up and stretched, sighing with relief that he would no longer feel any temptation. Or so he thought. “Hmm?” he grunted, seeing something out of the corner of his eye on a desk. Talia’s desk. A book. Walking over, he placed his fingers on the cover, reading the name silently. Lolita. He bit his bottom lip before shaking his head and picking up the book to go and return it to his student. Rather, he would have, had something not fallen out and onto the floor.

With puzzled expression, Mark crouched down to pick the photos up, and what he saw made his breath hitch and his heartbeat quicken. All four polaroids were of Talia, and featured her vulnerable in one way or another. It was a sight more than he had ever been afforded, and he couldn’t look away. Looking at them, greedily gazing at her wonderful curves and smooth skin, he licked his lips and groaned gently. A thick, aching bulge had inevitably formed in his belted slacks, straining against the material and begging for any kind of release.

“Shit, I shouldn’t be looking at these . . . !” he muttered, but nonetheless he reached a hand down to lightly squeeze on the hard tent looking at the pictures gave him. There was a base, primal part of him that wanted to keep them, to take them home and jack off to them in private, his logical mind knew that it was foolish to do so. But he had to satisfy his own curiosity, so the man took the last photo of her hand so ledwly between her legs. Opening the book in the middle, he placed the photos in the book and closed it, making sure they wouldn’t fall out again.

With his heart beating much too fast for his own good and adjusting his erection so that it wasn’t so damn obvious, Mark held the book carefully as he walked out of the classroom to Talia’s next period, hoping to give the book back to her without any fuss, the images of her barely-covered body burned in his mind. Once there, he waited just outside the door, silently motioning to the teacher, then quietly asked to borrow Talia for a moment.

 

[Madam Mim]

The nice thing about the tables in the chemistry classroom was that they had an overhang which came down far enough to hide their laps. Martin had serendipitously been assigned as her lab partner, and Talia was slowly, lazily stroking the inside of his thigh with her left hand while the teacher lectured. It was still more than half an hour until fourth period when they could slip away to the library, and it wouldn't do to let him forget why he had asked her there in the first place. She had to keep herself from smiling every time she heard Martin draw a slow, deep, shaky breath or saw his hand clench into a fist. Would she get the same reaction out of Mr. Hadleigh, she wondered?

As though summoned there by her thoughts, Mr. Hadleigh was at the door, asking Ms. Miller if he could talk to her for a second. Well, even Talia had to admit that she had been taken a little by surprise; she had thought he would have at least waited until tomorrow. Sliding her hand out of Martin's lap and leaving him in longing and pain, she arranged her face into her best anxious expression and made her way from their desk in the back row. Out in the hallway she leaned against the cool cinderblock, then pulled relief onto her face when he handed her the book.

"Thank you!" she breathed with a smile. "I would've needed this for sixth period and would've been up a creek! You don't know how--" Her face fell and she stopped when she saw the edges of the Polaroids sticking out of the top of the pages, placed in the middle like a bookmark. There were only three, she noticed, but it wasn't like she was going to bring that up at this moment. It could be something they looked back on together and laughed about. "You saw...Mr. Hadleigh, please don't tell anyone!" Talia begged frantically, glancing up and down the hall as though the entire school would suddenly jump out and start whispering about her. "I...I broke up with my boyfriend last week, y'see. But we'd been getting kinda serious, and he wouldn't give these back until I..." She looked down, tears glistening in her eyes for a moment before she blinked them away. "He would've made photocopies and put them around the school." Talia had made her voice as small and pitiful as possible, then looked back up at him with her eyes full of tears again. "But I did what he wanted, and he gave them back. Please don't tell my parents?"

It was genius, really. Being blackmailed over the photos would have explained not only their existence, but her rendezvous with Martin in the library. Mark didn't need to know that she had actually been breaking a two-week dry spell for Martin after punishing him for not being properly respectful of her. He didn't need to know that finding her in supplication to a man was a rarity indeed, and that he would be lucky to be honored with such a thing. All he needed to think was that she was a good girl who had been blackmailed into doing a less-than-innocent deed. Men preferred to think of women as innocent and virginal, at first anyway, and she was sure that being seen as vulnerable would make him more likely to go along with the next part of her plan.

 

[Scathelocke]

Mark tried to keep his foot from tapping on the floor of the hallway, but it was harder than he expected it to be. He wanted to hand the book over and be done with this business, and try to forget about the photos (even though he very hypocritically stole one for his own enjoyment). His eyes looked over Talia, at her black curls and sweet, worried face, and his foot calmed itself, letting his guard down for the innocent little lady standing in front of him. Handing her the book, he still anxiously waited until she noticed that the pictures were moved, and frowned deeply upon hearing her beg not to tell anyone and gave him her reasoning.

The frowned deepened even further, Mark’s eyes narrowed in both worry and anger while he listened. His jaw clenched, unable to bear thinking about someone hurting her like this. “What? Who was your boyfriend, Talia?” he asked, aiming to find out and put this kid so far down a academic hole that would be impossible to climb out of for the rest of his time at school. It was a measure he shouldn’t have been thinking to take, but there was a visceral need to protect her, further than he wanted to protect any other student. “I’m not going to tell your parents, Talia, but you need to be more careful, okay? What if someone else found these photos?”

Mark placed a kind, gentle but powerful hand on her arm. Fuck, she was so warm and smooth. “Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?” he inquired softly, swallowing very quietly and slowly from the sudden dryness of his mouth from being so close and quiet with her.

 

[Madam Mim]

She saw the jaw clench, the furrow at his brow, his narrowed eyes. Perhaps Mr. Hadleigh was already more wrapped around her finger than even she suspected. Well, that would just make things easier. When he demanded to know who her boyfriend was, she held the book close to her chest and folded her arms around it protectively as though he would have snatched it back to try and find out. Her curls bounced around her face when she shook her head vigorously.

"I-I don't wanna get him in trouble," she insisted. "I just want it to all be over with, alright. Please, Mr. H?" She looked up at him through a few stray curls which had fallen across her eyes. Talia's lips pulled into a slow smile when he promised not to tell her parents and scolded her lightly. He'd pay for the scolding later. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. That's why I stuck them in a school book, so that if they fell out they'd fall into my backpack." She stepped closer when he placed a hand gently on her arm, so they were no more than six inches apart. She could practically feel his body heat, and all she could think of was how much rope it would take to render his strong arms immobile.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked softly. "Anything at all?"

What a sweetie! It all seemed to be a bit easier than Talia had originally thought. "About this?" she shook her head again. "But I was worried about that midterm research paper you set us? I know it isn't due for like another month, but I was wondering if maybe we could go over my rough draft tomorrow after school? I uh...I'm trying to get a full ride, so grades are really important to me." She smiled as though she were embarrassed. Although she had never had a teacher before--well, not one of her own teachers, anyway--one thing she had always sworn to herself was that she wouldn't fuck one just to get a good grade, unless it were PE. PE was useless, and Coach Hanson accepted a monthly blowjob every year in exchange for a B+ and turning a blind eye to her many absences. But she was smart enough to get a scholarship on her own merit and she knew it; she didn't need Hadleigh to pass her. She just needed him to spend more time with her. "I'd stay after today, but I forgot my rough draft at home."

 

[Scathelocke]

Mark had sworn that he had a handle on himself, that he would never cross any inappropriate lines in his career. He thought that Talia was no different; cute, yes, smart, of course, and from the photos he saw, sexy as hell, but he assumed that nothing would happen, that he would always be the kind, father-like teacher. Even now, he was overestimating himself, even as the last photo of Talia lay in his pocket.

He hesitated, not wanting to just give up the issue that easily. But in the end, what went on was her business, and if she really needed help with it, she would ask him for it. “Okay. If you change your mind, or he tries something else, you let me know, okay?” he replied. The teacher fought the urge to take a step back when she came closer, and mutually felt her own warmth on his skin.

A look of relief washed over his face when Talia asked him for help on the midterm essay. Finally! A topic he wouldn’t feel unsure about, but the fact that they would be alone after school tomorrow gave him cause for worry. However, Mark gently reminded himself that it was just a teacher helping his student with her homework. Even if that same student stirred impure thoughts that no older man should have of a woman other than his wife. It’ll be fiiiiine . . . right?

“Of course, Ms. Dean! I’ll be sure to stay a bit later after school so you can see me, okay? It’ll give me a bit of extra time to catch up on grading essays,” he answered, finally stepping back but his fingers lingering on her seemingly-innocent flesh a bit too long. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Talia.”

With that, Mark walked down the hall back to his classroom, shutting the door and locking it. A heavy, shaking breath left his lungs, trying to stop the gentle shake of nervousness that wracked his hand. It only settled once he pulled out the photo of Talia, staring at it intently as several more dirty thoughts flowed freely into his mind. He couldn’t stop the image of Talia’s soft, wet lips that lay between her legs being played with, making a damp mess of her fingers . . . Making sure that the blinds on the window were shut, the older man walked over to his desk and sat down, internally debating what he should do to it, his free hand tracing over the thick bulge in his pants.

 

[Madam Mim]

She breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "Thanks, Mr. H. I'm so lucky to have a teacher as understanding as you are." Talia noticed that his fingers lingered on her arm, and let him step away before she returned to class, ignoring the quizzical glances given by her classmates.

Fourth period with Martin was almost boring, now that she knew just how close she was to pulling Mr. Hadleigh into her web. She could never make the first official move, of course; it wouldn't do to be accused of seduction. No, he had to be allowed to believe he had control over the situation. She had to let him think that he had chosen her, and not the other way around. These thoughts distracted Talia while they loitered back in the darkest parts of the back of the library.

"What was that?" Talia looked down and pulled her skirt out of the way so that she could look at Martin's face between her knees.

"I asked if my goddess was alright," he repeated, bringing his arms up her skirt to rest on her ass. "You seem distracted." He leaned up and flicked his tongue against her clit.

"It's fine," she sighed. She hated wasting her time with boys and made a plan to visit that cop that lived on Cherry Street on her way home from school. Talia stood and let her skirt fall before bending over to retrieve her panties and put them back on.

With a frown Martin sat up. Well-trained boy that he was, he ignored the bulge in his pants and concerned himself instead with her own pleasure. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked, hugging her gently around the knees and kissing one of her thighs. "Is it about second period? I didn't mean to be naughty, Miss, I promise. I just thought the Greeks--"

"I don't give a shit what you think about the Greeks, Martin," she snapped, shaking him off of her and picking up her bag. "Don't be clingy." She slung the bag over her shoulder, leaving Martin confused and unsatisfied. "Just let me do my own thing, okay? My distractions are none of your concern."

"Yes, Miss..." he whimpered dejectedly after her retreating back, left to guess whether or not she would be angry if he finished himself off.

The following day brought a driving rain and biting cold. Perfect. While the school day passed as normal, Talia left her jacket and umbrella in her locker, stuffed her bra into her backpack, and casually snipped the second button off of her shirt to give Mark a better view of her decolletage before heading off with the rough draft of her essay. Going over it and making improvements, she figured, should keep them until the buses had stopped running by the school. Unless he wanted her to walk seven miles in the freezing rain, he would be forced to give her a lift home.

"Happy Friday!" Talia chirruped with a smile before setting her backpack down. She approached Mr. Hadleigh's desk and set her rough draft on the corner, standing near him to look over his shoulder as he read it. "I was hoping you could read it over and show me where I could make improvements." At such close quarters he would be able to smell her perfume, redolent of lavender, pine, and citrus with a hint of vanilla. It was a scent she had chosen just for him; he didn't seem the traditional non-descript perfume type. "And maybe take a look at my sources, make sure they're good ones?" she added. "Or make suggestions for some better ones where I might find more information?"

 

[Scathelocke]

Luckily for Mark, he managed to restrain himself from doing anything lewd while looking at the picture he had of Talia, but the same couldn’t be said for while he was at home. He had gotten to greet his wife, Emily, who was in the process of making dinner. She was a beautiful woman, a little bit younger than he was, with long golden hair and soft green eyes. Soon after they were eating dinner and watching TV with each other, they went upstairs to go to sleep. His wife was an exceptionally deep sleeper, but Mark always took a bit longer than usual to become sleepy. He pulled out the items from his pants-pockets, and saw the photo of her again. Fuck.

Mark leaned back into the bed, slowly stroking the thick, hard manhood that came to life for her. It felt so fucking good, but he knew it was wrong to do this with a picture of his student! “What the fuck is wrong with me . . .” he whispered, gripping the hot shaft tighter and faster as he looked at Talia, imagining that she was naughtily fingering herself, getting oh-so-wet between her luscious, toffee-colored thighs. He didn’t last for long, and came so hard, toes curling and back arched, leaving thick ropes of cream all over his chest and chest for him to clean up and go to bed.

The next day was largely uneventful, though he did have the guilty pleasure of seeing Talia for class, the memory of jacking off to her still burning ferociously in his mind’s eye, and the desire to do it again. After school, as he was grading more papers, she came in with a lovely, excited smile. He smiled back at her and finished grading the essay in front of him, then looked up to her as she came over. As he slid her paper towards him, Mark had gotten the lovely, subtle smell of her perfume, something he didn’t notice before. He fought to hide the shiver down his spine, and his eyes from glancing towards her open shirt, and kept his focus on the paper.

“Ah, all right, um . . . The structure looks amazing, as always, but you need to work on your introduction paragraph. You tend to come on a bit strong, so I recommended easing a bit into the subject before hitting the next paragraph,” he said, making little notes on the paper. “And the books you found for sources; I really don’t know why the principal hasn’t updated the library, it has irrelevant information, but he hasn’t listened to me yet. In the meantime, I have the correct books at my house, so tomorrow I’ll bring them in and you can have them for the time being, okay?”

 

[Madam Mim]

"You think I come on too strong?" She pouted prettily and leaned her chest very slightly towards him. "There's nothing wrong with having strong opinions. But..." Her breasts swelled a little as she heaved a sigh, "I suppose some better transition sentences and word choice would ease you into it a little better. I think you just have a problem with strong women, Mr. H," she added, grinning and nudging his arm playfully with her hip.

When he suggested he bring in books for her tomorrow she giggled. "Tomorrow's Saturday," she reminded him. "I could come pick them up though? Or maybe we could take a little field trip to the city library?" It would have been better to ask him later, but Talia was nothing if not able to improvise.

She flipped to the last page and pointed. "What about the conclusion? Do I finish off in a way that leaves you satisfied?" Talia looked down at him innocently. "I'm always concerned about whether the end is as good as the beginning."

 

[Scathelocke]

“Trust me, I don’t have a problem with strong women, especially ones that already have a hang of it at your age,” Mark replied, sucking in his cheek to distract himself from her subtle but accidental movements - or, so he thought, wanting to assume the best in Talia. “But if you do it too often, you risk scaring the reader away. So ask more questions, give suggestions to what the reader should think about, that sort of thing.”

When she pointed out his mistake, he clicked his tongue and sighed, running his temples. “Tch, right, Saturday. I could bring them on Monday,” he muttered embarrassingly. The thought of Talia at his house or taking her to the city library made him uneasy; not because he didn’t want to, but because he wanted more time with her. For purely educational reasons, of course.

“I’m not sure doing that is appropriate, Ms. Dean. Teachers and pupils aren’t supposed to mingle outside of school,” he said, before she asked him about the ending of the paper. He tried to ignore the seemingly-innocent way she was speaking, thinking that it was him that was twisting her words into euphemisms. “No, you’ve done a wonderful job on the ending. You have the same intensity that you have at the beginning, but intense is good here. Just work on your introduction, and all should be good.”

 

[Madam Mim]

They weren't talking about the paper anymore, obviously. But she'd heard him loud and clear: she was going to make him too nervous to be alone around her if she kept pushing, so she continued to pretend she didn't know how many double entendres were laced into her speech. Instead she nodded and leaned on the corner of his desk.

"I can make suggestions," she agreed before reminding him that it was Saturday. Talia forced a blush when he turned her down, citing inappropriate appearances. Normally she would push, but she was about to do plenty of that. No point in heaping it all on at once. Besides, that might risk her act of innocence.

"Sooooo go gentle and ease the reader into it," she said slowly, "take control in the body, then finish with intensity. Got it." She nodded firmly, pleased with her barely-disguised euphemisms. "Sounds good! Thanks for going over everything with me, Mr. Hadleigh." She took her essay back and took her time bending over to put it away, the very hem of light panties against her dark ass just barely visible if Mark leaned a little to the left.

When she straightened, she took a look at the clock and frowned. "Crap... The buses have stopped running already, and my mom and stepdad are both at work." She looked out the window at the pouring, freezing rain and heaved a heavy, resigned sigh. "This is gonna be a long walk." Talia hefted her bag up onto her shoulders, hung her head morosely, and turned to the door. She took her time to give him time to decide, but no sense in going too slowly, lest he overthink it and change his mind.

 

[Scathelocke]

Mark attempted not to visibly look embarrassed, but at her words about controlling the body made him look up to the ceiling with a look of exasperation. Why the hell did he have to word it that way? “Exactly. Just follow my guidelines, and you’ll make a great essay,” he said to Talia, looking over at her. She bent over, and the breath in his lungs was caught as he gazed at her pert, round little ass. He swallowed gently before looking away and standing up.

The teacher was initially tempted to just ignore her plea, if only for the sake of his own sanity, but in his heart he knew that he couldn’t just leave her out in the rain to get sick. “Talia, hold on!” he called after her, standing up and grabbing his bag, walking after her. “I’ll give you a ride, okay?” He grabbed the umbrella by the door, and let her out first before closing it and locking the door, walking with her.

His eyes continued to glance down at her before they reached the entrance, at which point he opened up the umbrella. “Come on,” Mark said, inviting her to be a bit closer so she wouldn’t get soaked. After that, they rushed outside, hurrying to his car. He opened her door first before he ran around to jump in, tossing the umbrella in the back.

 

[Madam Mim]

A smile tugged at Talia's lips when he called after her, but she quickly suppressed it and turned instead with a mildly quizzical look, followed by relief when he offered her a ride. He'd give her a ride, alright, especially after telling her to follow his lead. But that would come later. Instead she breathed a sigh of relief and graced him with a grateful smile.

"Thank you so much, Mr. H," she said as they stepped into the hallway. "You don't know how much I appreciate it." She did know, however, how much he was likely to appreciate the subtle movements of her unbound breasts beneath the thin shirt while they walked, particularly when they took the stairs, and could practically feel his gaze on her.

At the bottom of the stairs Mark invited her in closer, and Talia took the liberty of innocently putting her hand on the small of his back so that she could press against him while they rushed together to the car. Her feet were soaked by the time they made it, but she didn't mind. It would all be worth it in the end. While he rushed around to the other side of the car she arranged her backback between her feet so that her knees were forced apart, her skirt sliding higher than was appropriate, before buckling up.

"Oh here, let me help," she offered, taking his bag to put in the back seat. Into one of the outer pockets she slipped another Polaroid, this one of her standing at a window, looking out in just a shirt and panties. Surely he couldn't have memorized all four pictures she'd slipped to him yesterday; he would find some way to rationalize it away when he found it later.

Once the bag was settled on the floor of the back seat Talia turned back around before directing him to her house. She took him on a more circuitous route, but one that had been made much bumpier by frost heaves. Between the bumps in the road and her nipples made hard by the cold straining against her shirt, Marks' temptation to oggle was sure to be great, and she would allow him to believe that he was being subtle. Finally they pulled up to a tidy, if rather old and dated, bungalow in the middle of a street populated with overgrown lawns and pre-owned cars at least a decade old. It wasn't a terrible neighborhood, but it certainly wasn't the best either. In the driveway, Talia rummaged in her backpack.

"Better and better," she muttered just loudly enough for Mark to hear before straightening. "I forgot my key. Hang on."

Without waiting for an answer, she jumped out of the car and ran to the front porch, leaving her backpack in the car so that he couldn't drive off. The spare key was right where it always was of course, just as her own key was in her backpack where she always kept it. But Talia feigned exasperation, pretended to try the door, then ran around to the back porch. There she took shelter under the dirty old awning for a few moments. Phil was inside and she could hear the TV going, but the curtains to the living room were drawn so that Mr. Hadleigh wouldn't be able to see in so that wasn't a problem. The girl took a few moments to carefully arrange her wet clothes, pulling her skirt up so that it stuck to her upper thighs in a tempting way that didn't reveal everything he would want it to, and pulling her wet white shirt to one side to expose just enough of her breast to be tantalizing. She would have cut off another button, but that would have been too obvious. Instead she ran back around the side and jumped into the car, chest heaving for breath from the running and the cold. She did her best to look pathetically at him.

"Phil left for work an hour ago," she said, "and my mom's still got three hours on her shift at the hospital. Someone took the spare key, and my bedroom window is locked." She gestured to the window on the far left, just in case he ever needed to know or wanted to stop by to watch her undress before she pulled him back into line with some firm guidance. "Would you mind taking me to a gas station or a diner or something? I think I've got a couple quarters I could call my mom, maybe get a cup of coffee." She dug around in her backpack again, producing 75 cents in an assortment of change and three dollars in bills. Her nipples ached from the cold and she was genuinely having to shiver herself warm, and she channeled that misery into giving him her best, largest, most pathetic eyes. "Please, Mr. Hadleigh? Then I'll be out of your hair, promise."

 

[Scathelocke]

Mark had a hard time as it was just having Talia that close by when they left the classroom, but his eyes were unable to look away from her form as they descended the stairs. For a brief moment, he thought about how soft her breasts would feel in the palm of his hand, rolling a stiff nipple in between his fingers . . . he blinked slowly, shaking his head of the improper daydream.

“Thank you,” he had said gratefully as she helped him with his bag, allowing him to get settled into the driver’s seat. With a swift twist of the key, he started up the car, beginning to drive to Talia’s house as per her directions. Every once in a while, his gaze would flicker down over to her skirt, seeing how her thighs were teasingly peeking out from the fabric and nipples so boldly poking out from the thin shirt she wore. His tongue slightly licked the corner of his lips; oh, to have that in his mouth.

Once they arrived, Mark watched Talia with concern while she announced that she forgot her key, then rushed the front door. “Talia! Hey, wait-!” he tried to call after her again, about to offer his umbrella before she bolted. Frowning, he watched impatiently while she jogged around to the back of the house, tapping his foot on the bottom of the car.

It was a few minutes before she came back, even more disheveled than before with the added benefit of being gloriously wet. The white fabric allowed him to see the dark flesh of her chest and the even darker portion of her nipples, and Mark had to tear his eyes away to behave himself. His hands tightened on the steering wheel; if he weren’t a married man or her teacher, Mark’s hands would have already been on her, exploring every delicious inch of her young, innocent body.

“Sure, no problem,” he answered, inhaling slowly to regain focus. “There’s a nice diner around here. You can give your mother a call, and we’ll grab a bite to eat, all right?”

Driving off once more, the pair arrived a few minutes later, turning into the parking lot of Franny’s Diner. He parked as close as he could to the entrance, then retrieved his umbrella before getting out and running over to Talia’s door, offering a strong hand to her.

 

[Madam Mim]

"That would be nice." Talia graced him with another grateful smile when he offered to bring her to a diner. "Nights like these I'm usually on my own for dinner anyway, so it'll be nice to not be alone. Or scrounge for something to make."

It didn't take long to get to Franny's. Talia was well acquainted with it, and when the weather was nice would walk there to meet friends for lunch or coffee. Mark took the umbrella and got out to come around for her. This was one of the advantages of the men she usually slept with when compared to boys like Martin Lennox: she didn't have to waste time training men into basic manners. They already knew how to be gentlemen, how to treat a lady. It was usually just a matter of overcoming their deeply ingrained beliefs about male dominance in relationships and in the bedroom. She knew Mark probably had some of the same notions, but he seemed malleable enough that she wouldn't have to hurt him too often to get the point across.

"Thanks," she said, taking his hand and scooting out of the car. She still wasn't dry, and got critical looks from the hostess when she walked in next to this (fine) older man. But the hostess didn't say anything so neither did Talia. The booth was chilly against her wet clothes when she slid in, but it would all be worth it. She ordered a coffee, a burger, and a cup of soup and waited for Mark to order before turning her attention back to him. "Have you ever had their milkshakes?" she asked excitedly. "Best ones I've ever tasted, I swear. And I've got a wicked sweet tooth. What about you, Mr. Hadleigh?" She crossed one leg over the other knee, slowly running her foot up his leg before pulling it away, as though it were an accident of the close quarters of the booth. "Do you like sweets?"

 

[Scathelocke]

Mark was too distracted by the warmth of the diner to realize the dirty looks that the hostess gave them, closing his umbrella once again and shaking it dry before haning it up on the rack by the door. Sitting down across from her, the man looked over at their waiter, “Burger and a beer, please,” he said politely, glancing over at Talia with a sheepish smile. “It’s the weekend, all right? One beer won’t kill me. Don’t tell anyone.”

A raucous shiver ran through his legs when he felt her foot press against him, and had to shift in his seat to recover. He listened to her question before he nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, I like sweets sometimes. But usually they’re a bit too much for me to handle,” he replied, then decided to indulge himself. “Excuse me? A vanilla milkshake, please. Do you want one, Ms. Dean?”

 

[Madam Mim]

Talia held up her hands in mock defense, returning his smile. "I didn't say anything. I mean, you're the one drinking in front of a minor so who am I to judge?" she teased, adding a wink to reassure him that she really didn't care. She made a noise of derision and waved a hand when Mark claimed that sweets were a bit too much for him sometimes. "I think you just haven't found the right sweet thing that's all."

He offered her a milkshake and she thought for a moment before deciding on mint chocolate chip. "I've got an adventurous pallet," she admitted with a shrug after thanking the waitress. "Stick with me, Mr. H, and we'll have you trying new things and enjoying the spice of life in no time. Oh, thanks." This was directed at the waitress who came back with the coffee pot held at the ready until Talia moved her cup to the edge of the table. Three sugars later she was shivering a little as the coffee warmed her from the inside out.

"Shame we had school on a day like this," she said, looking out the window then back to Mark. "I actually like these sorts of days. I like sitting on a porch swing all wrapped up in a nice cozy blanket with a good book and a hot drink, or even just being lazy and snuggling in bed all day. What about you? I mean, surely you don't just go to school, go home, grade papers, then do it all over again the next day?

 

[Scathelocke]

Mark was unable to forget what he told her earlier, about it being inappropriate that a teacher and student hang out after school. He was being hypocritical, but having Talia here scratched an itch he didn’t know he had. The thought caused him to dig his thumb into the tabletop, rubbing it nervously before she spoke again of his hobbies. “Oh, me?” he inquired, looking up to consider her question.

“I suppose going home and watching TV with my wife on the couch,” he answered. Right. His wife. The woman he loved, proposed to, swore an oath to. He reached over and played with his ring again, clenching his jaw. “Or reading some adventure novels. Nothing special.”

A moment later, the waitress brought their milkshakes and Mark’s beer, setting them carefully upon the lacquered wood before leaving. He slid Talia’s over to her before drinking a bit of his. It was sweet, full-flavored, but not too overwhelming. “Mm, that’s really good,” he commented softly, taking his beer and drinking a little bit. “Aaaaand that is not. Eugh.” His face contorted into one of disgust, but took another sip anyway. No sense wasting the money, right?

 

[Madam Mim]

"That's it?" Talia raised an eyebrow when he described his evenings. "What about the weekends, then? You don't like, go to clubs or movies? Hiking? Drives?" The piece of ass was worth it, but she was going to have to get Mark out and teach him how to live again. Surely he wasn't the sort of guy who would have just sat at home, living vicariously through TV or books, before he got married.

But the conversation was put on hold when their milkshakes arrived. Talia took hers and sipped it slowly, enjoying the drink. "Told you," she said with a smile before wrapping her lips around the straw again in the same manner she had with her pen the day before. "Mmmm...it's always so thick and creamy," she agreed before taking the straw out and licking the end of it. She laughed when Mr. Hadleigh winced at the bitter taste of beer. "See? Always go for the sweets." She would have offered to finish it for him, but that would have tarnished her image as an innocent girl.

"So what else do you like to do?" she asked. Mrs. Hadleigh had been on the tip of her tongue, but she decided to steer away from that topic. She wanted Mark to think as little of that bitch as possible. Looking down, she reached forward and put her hand over his gently but firmly. "Other than fidget," she added with a giggle, pressing her hand over his to keep his thumb from digging into the table again, or fidgeting with his ring.

 

[Scathelocke]

Mark hesitated to elaborate. It was a problem with his marriage that he would rather not talk about, but it always bothered him to no end. "I, ah, used to travel in my younger days, but since my marriage, we . . . stay home a lot," he admitted. Why the hell was he telling Talia, the school girl he continued to think about in ways that an older man shouldn't. "I take fewer risks."

His eyes focused on Talia as she drank the shake. Thick and creamy, in and out. Goddamn, he could only imagine her kneeling between his legs, and the thought made his manhood stir. Mark smiled, attempting to hide the implication he thought of. "Yeah, really good quality," he replied, glancing out at the pouring rain. It was not letting up.

Mark was snapped out of his thoughts as she laid her hands on his. He swallowed slowly, trying to work out how to add on to his answer with her soft, delicate hands on his. His heart was beating much more rapidly than before. "It's not something I do, but something I'd like to do, but I want to go back to Europe. Italy, France, or Sweden, y'know," he answered, moving his hand away, only to reposition it so it was barely on top of Talia's. "Emily doesn't want to, though, so . . ."

 

[Madam Mim]

The repositioning wasn't lost on her. Talia resisted the urge to reach over and pinch him for the impunity; poor man didn't know the rules. She couldn't very well punish him for breaking the rules when Mark didn't even know he was playing. She was nothing if not fair, after all. She avoided drawing attention to the situation by looking down and instead kept eye contact while she lightly laced the very tips of their fingers the way he and Emily (what a boring name!) might have when they first started dating. Married men, Talia found, usually liked to be reminded at first of their relationship with their wife before they'd gotten married. Back when it was exciting. And if Talia could promise one thing, it was excitement.

"That's really a shame," she said sympathetically with a small frown. "I always thought marriage should be about finding someone to be adventurous with you. I've never even been to Canada, but if I had the resources I'd jet over to Europe faster than you could blink. Or maybe the islands; my grandma is from Kingston. But I've also heard that Sweden is beautiful, especially in the winter. Not like here." She glanced out the window at the rain, then back to him. Their food arrived along with the judgemental waitress and she applied light pressure to his fingertips--as though she would have squeezed his hand, had they been holding hands--before withdrawing her own fingers and picking up her burger.

"Mmmm... Is really tender," she informed him after taking a bite. "So if you could only travel to one place, where would it be? Pretend you won the lottery, so money isn't an issue. Where would you run away to?"

 

[Scathelocke]

Mark didn’t respond to the part about being adventurous with your spouse. Now, the man was in a state of thought about why the relationship was like this. Truth be told, Emily was never one for adventure or excitement, even before they were married, and now it felt like he was chained to one place and couldn’t get away, even for a little while. But why was Talia the one that dug these feelings up?

“Yeah, Europe is . . . beautiful. You know, there’s a city just on the border of Italy and Switzerland called Lugano, and I swear that it’s so cold that I thought my fingers were going to break off,” he replied with a wistful chuckle, a look in his eyes that subtly expressed that he missed it.

Mark realized their hands the way they were, and quickly withdrew them after Talia had pulled hers away. Picking up his burger, he took a bite and enjoyed the perfect patty with the juicy lettuce, pickles and tomato. “Mhmm,” he agreed, then hearing her question. “Anywhere, hmmm? Well, I suppose it would have to be Italy or Spain. I adored Rome, and I want to go back. And you, Ms. Dean? Where would you like to go?”

 

[Madam Mim]

Talia laughed along at Mark's jokes, but noticed how quickly he had pulled his hands away. He'd talked before about getting scared off if she moved too quickly. Had she scared him off? Or simply scared him by making him really think about his marriage? Men were fraidy cats, she had found, and for all their talk were overly cautious when it came to a woman who was actually worth it. Still, she could tell she had found a chink in the armor. It shouldn't be hard to exploit.

"Nope, you can only pick one!" she laughed when Mr. Hadleigh named Italy or Spain. "Play by the rules, Mr. H. You can't just say you'll play a game then ignore the rules." She nudged him gently with her foot. He answered that he would go to Rome, then turned the question back around on her.

"Anywhere in the whole world?" she asked, thinking. Nobody had ever asked her that before, and unless she asked her dad for something (which she rarely did, out of principle) she never had the resources to travel. "Well Paris is supposed to be romantic, especially with the right company," here she held eye contact with him sightly longer than was absolutely necessary before taking another bite to allow herself time to think. "But I'll let it's overrated," she concluded after swallowing. "I'd probably go to Switzerland. If I could only pick one place."

After a another bite and more thought she looked at him again. "If you want to leave, why don't you just go?" she asked. She let that sit for a long moment before clarifying, "I mean, I know it's always nice to travel with someone, but surely Emily would understand that this was something you really wanted, right? Even if it meant going on your own? It's not fair for her to keep you from what you want."

 

[Scathelocke]

“Sorry sorry, I’ll play by the rules more often,” he replied, taking another bite of his burger. This time, he didn’t move his leg away when she nudged him with her foot, and looked back at her curiously as she considered his question.

“Paris is amazing. Great wine, food, and culture. You would love it, Talia,” Mark said with a smile, gazing back at her eyes while she spoke. “But, Switzerland is also good, if you can endure the biting cold.”

Just then, a thought entered his mind, and he knew for sure it wasn’t a proper one. Mark thought about taking someone with him that wanted to go; someone that would appreciate traveling as much as he did. He imagined how fun it would be to take Talia to France; ironically, where the age of consent was only fifteen . . . exactly the age of Talia. He gulped at the thought of being in an place where it wouldn’t be taboo, at least for a little while.

“I would love to, but it’s not as simple as that, Talia,” he replied with a sad smile. “I have to get the time off work, gotta plan it, and now . . . at this stage of my life, I want to someone else to experience it with me.” He paused for a long moment before adding, “Maybe I can get a friend or family member to go, if Emily lets me.”

“But! You definitely need to go, Ms. Dean. Go on a group trip with your friends or beg your mom to take you,” he said, trying to deflect the current conversation back on her. Not just to hide his own uncomfortableness, but also because he really wanted her to experience it.

 

[Madam Mim]

"You better," Talia teased with a mischievous twinkle in her eye when Mark promised to play by the rules. "You wouldn't wanna see what I do to rule-breakers." She grinned and winked, running her foot slowly down his leg as though she had mistaken it for the leg of the table. She knew better.

"That sounds incredible," she sighed when he described Paris, leaning forward to push her breasts a little forward again. "It makes me want to just, y'know, leave. Just go. And I can handle Switzerland; a little biting never bothered me any. But really, you should go."

Mark gave his excuses for why he couldn't go, even as (she could tell) he imagined going without his wife. She scoffed and waved the excuses away. "Go over the summer," she said, "or spring or winter break. That way you don't have to take off any extra time. And if Emily let you?" She scoffed. "If she cares about you, cares about your happiness, she'd let you go whether she went with you or not." She knew it was a childish way of seeing things, that marriage was more complicated than that. But the point right now was to demonstrate how much better she was than his wife.

Then he turned it back around on her and Talia laughed. "Well first of all, we're not in school anymore; you can call me Talia if you want. No need to be so formal." That would come later, with training. "Second of all I'm sure if we had the money Mom would let me go, but..." She shrugged. "Plane tickets cost money, and we're kinda hand to mouth. Even if we had money, none of my friends are interested in even leaving town, never mind going to Europe. Unfortunately, until I've got funds of my own I'm stuck reading books and watching TV about other places." She sighed before finishing off her burger. "That reminds me though, I've gotta go to the city library tomorrow at like noon." She nodded before eating a fry. She would see just how deeply she had her hooks in him already if he managed to "bump into" her at the library tomorrow.

"So anyway," she said after a moment's pause, "since Emily won't let you go to Paris or Rome, what're your weekend plans? TV?"