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When the debate was finished and the rest of the group was off to celebrate, I stayed behind to help Ms. Moody gather up and organize our paperwork and placards.
“Everyone’s going to grab pizza,” I said to her. “You should join us. Let your hair down a little bit.”
But she simply shook her head, gathered her things and took off. I followed her out of the auditorium, down the hall.
I knew at the time it was wrong, but I followed her out to the empty parking lot.
She got into her car. Another chance for me to think twice and just walk away. But here’s the thing. She didn’t even try to lock the door. She put the key into the ignition but she didn’t start it.
I stalked over to her tidy black Honda Accord, opened the back door and slipped inside.
“Do you need a ride home or something?” she asked, her voice more wispy than normal, knowing exactly what I was doing back there.
“You know I don’t need a ride. I need you,” I said, more commanding than I intended.
I could see her throat move as she swallowed. “Miles, we need to talk.”
“I’m done talking. I’m done begging. I’m an adult now, and I’m asking you to join me, as an adult, in the back seat.”
I could see her licking her lips. “Miles…”
“Ms. Moody.”
Her fingers fidgeted up her face and then across her chest. She muttered something like, “This is not really happening.”
And then I did something truly despicable. I deliberately attempted to make her need a release. In my deepest, throatiest voice, I leaned forward and started to speak just inches from her ear. Because I was such a dutiful student under her speech tutelage, I was prepared. I had done a good bit of homework on what to say, but most of it came naturally. Everything I felt, I said.
“I want you. I want to kiss you. I want to touch and look at and memorize every part of your body. I want our minds and souls to touch. I want to show you how excited you make me. I want to run my hands up under that skirt, under your sweater. Feel your breasts, feel your nipples respond to me. I want to grow old with you and make you happy. I want to massage your feet every day after school. I want to take your bun out and play with your hair until you fall asleep. I want you to relax with a glass of wine while I warm your body up for me. I want to warm your pussy with my hands, make you ache, make you whimper my name, fill you with my seed, make babies with you.”
Still facing forward, Ms. Moody breathed out a quiet curse. I could see she was fighting with herself.
“If you don’t come back here with me, I’m going to keep talking to you until your panties are soaked for me.”
“Miles.” She squeezed her eyes tightly and shifted in her seat, her hand on the steering wheel, and then on the ignition, and then on the door handle.
“Do you want me to leave? If you do, I’ll leave,” I offered.
She took a moment to breathe, then shook her head vigorously. Finally, she breathed, “Fuck it,” and climbed into the back seat with me.
For the first time, she looked me straight in the eyes, looking at me not as a child but as an adult. “If we’re going to do this, you need to call me Martha.”
I reached over, cupped her face and was done in by her softness. Maybe some part of me thought she’d be made of stone, or fire. But not only was her skin softer than silk under my touch, but her whole face, whole demeanor changed. It was like she melted into herself, finally having given in to her own wants and needs.
I was ensnared for life the moment she allowed my mouth to land on her soft, smooth, pillowy lips. Kissing her was like tasting happiness. Nothing else mattered.
I don’t know how long we kissed like that before my hand began to slide up her leg. When I managed to hike up her skirt, my hand found the edge of her thigh-high stockings. I moaned at the contact with her silky thighs, and my cock saluted when she moaned in response to my caresses.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since forever, and now that I am, I want to keep kissing you forever,” I whispered to her.
Martha let out a small sigh against my mouth as she welcomed my tongue. The sounds of our mouths tasting and teasing only heightened the desire building in me below the waist. And she smelled so good. My free hand slipped back behind her head, gripping the comb that held the bun in place. With one gentle pull, Martha’s soft chestnut locks fell down around her shoulders.
Her eyes popped open with surprise for a moment but she melted into me when I laced my fingers into her hair.
My hand kept traveling up, between her legs, until I was cupping her mound. She gasped and jerked, and then moaned into my mouth.
It seemed like merely seconds later, all the car windows were steamed over. Both of us panted and moaned as the kissing and petting intensified. My inexperienced fingers massaged the soft material over her folds.
When she put her hand on my bulge, I stopped her. “Just you this time. This is my thank you gift for making me a better debater, a better student, and a better person. Let me make you feel good, Martha. I want your sweet juices all over me. ”
