My Precious

Chapter 4

It's almost time for class to begin; most of my students have already taken their seats. On my way to close off the classroom to the sound of students bussling through the halls, I notice the door across from mine. There is a new name hanging above it that reads, "Ms. Langley Poetry 101." Before I close my door, I peer down the hallway, looking for any of my straggling students. I see no one in particular, so I stand in the hall for a better look.

There are a lot of people congregating in the corner student lounge area; some with backpacks are laughing about their weekends, while others are typing away on their laptops, probably finishing homework. Turning around to get a look behind me, I see students eating breakfast and having conversations, but I don't see any faces I recognize. Before heading back to my classroom, I checked the time; it was exactly 10:20. As class begins, a few students come in late. I don't mark them tardy; everyone has issues, and they don't need to worry about being kicked out of my class for tardies alone.

Once my lecture is over, one of my students, Emilla, is asleep at her desk; all of the other students have already left, and I decide to go over and wake her up. Quickly, I realize my mistake, because before I even arrive at her side, her head pops up from the desk, and her red-orange hair dangles in front of her face. Her breasts are encrusted with glitter, capturing any man's attention for at least a split second. She's much too young for me, but my students have done much worse than just pretending to be asleep.

"Mr. Barlowe, was I sleeping again?" "You caught me," she says in a playful tone. Emilla is about 21 and joined my class at the start of the semester. She moves a lock of hair out of her face and continues to play with it nervously in her hand. "I had a long night trying to finish my essay in time for today; have you gotten a chance to read it yet?" Her questions seem innocent enough, so I decide to tell the truth.

"I haven't graded all of the essays yet, Emilla, but your grade will be posted by tomorrow afternoon. You should do your homework ahead of time so you're not falling asleep during class; you may miss vital information." The moment she hears her name, her eyes begin to gleam. I make a point to learn all my students' names for each semester just for personal reasons; I enjoy the challenge of memorizing anything.

"You're right; I need to do a better job prioritizing my time." She exclaims, "Did you do anything fun this weekend?" "I went to the pancake festival and had so many delicious flapjacks; maybe you can join me and my parents next time?" She sits up, very alert, unlike someone who had just fallen asleep. Fixes her titties, I suppose, attempting to seduce or manipulate a me, but to no avail.

"I'd rather not; it would be inappropriate, but I'm thankful for the offer." "You should head off to your next class; I have lots of work to do." With this comment, she stands up from her desk, grabs her laptop, and begins to pack things into her extra-large pink and glittery MK bag. She's wearing a short pink schoolgirl plaid skirt with thigh high socks and a white, almost see-through top. As she walks towards the exit, I notice the way her hips sway from side to side, and her tiny waist is slightly visible with the extra-small shirt she's sporting. I follow her against my will because I want to close the door behind her.

"My parents wouldn't approve either, but I figured I'd give it a shot," she says with her bottom lip poking out. "My friends weren't kidding about you, that's all I'll say," she giggles as she rushes around my desk and out of the door. It can be a struggle trying to steer my students away from trying to hang out with me or go on dates, but today I got lucky.

When I reach the door, I see a short-haired blonde trying to enter room 206. She's dressed in a long-sleeved gown, and her backside resembles that of a goddess; the way her hips and asses sit perfectly is absolutely mesmerizing, and the dress is long enough to leave everything to my imagination.Her dirty blond hair is cut just below her shoulder and is glistening even in this shitty lighting. I can see her thin ankles, tight calf's and a glimpse of her thick thighs beneath her dress; a sweet, familiar smell fills the air, and I find myself walking over to her.

"Hey, do you need any help?" I blurted it out before I could stop myself. She turns, and my heart immediately sinks; I would recognize those ocean eyes anywhere. It's the blonde; Ms. Langly is Blondy, this is impossible! When she hands me her key, I can't seem to breathe because it's the same key I returned to the coffee shop this morning. The apple and unicorn key chain dangle and the urge to smell them again trespasses in my head; she doesn't seem to recognize me at all though.

"Thanks so much; I'm running late." "It's my first day here, and I'm already fucking late." She sighs deeply, and the frustration is building on her face; her brown eyebrows and bright pink lips are both frowning with confusion and self-doubt. I quickly unlocked the door for her and pushed it open. When she enters room 206, her arm brushes right past me, and that sweet aroma of strawberries and cream fills my nostrils, as I breathe in deeply . Fuck, she's absolutely intoxicating. I want to follow her, so I do.

"My classroom is right across the hall if you ever need anything," I say while fittling around with my fingers. "What's your first name, if I may ask?" I say, gleaming with anticipation.

"My name is Sophie Langley, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. ___." She trails off, unsure of what comes next, and I can see the slightest fold between her eyebrows as she waits for me to take over the conversation.

"Barlowe, Charels Barlowe, that's me in room 203, right across from thee," I say cleverly, but she just raises her eyebrows and doesn't even let out a giggle. Fuck why did I say that; what a stupid rhyme.

"Sorry, it's just that I saw the sign above your door earlier and it says you teach poetry here." I spit the words out, almost stuttering. What's happening to me right now? I feel my face heat up from the embarrassment, but somehow I keep my composure.

"Maybe you should sign up for one of my lectures," she giggles, making me more flustered. She doesn't know I ran into her today at my favorite coffee shop, that I have held that same unicorn and apple key chain in my hand this morning and had almost taken it with me, or that I'm currently swooning over a woman I've only just met. How can this happen? Why is she so unique? I need a better look at her, so I move closer to where she's standing and watch as she writes her agenda on the board, just like I always do. I wonder when her class starts—if she's just like me and arrives early enough to relax before the course begins. She said she was running late, so that can't be true about today.

"I guess poetry isn't really my expertise," I say quietly, because I'm beginning to regret entering this room; diving down this rabbit hole so quickly may have been a bad idea."I'll let you finish what you're doing."

"I really appreciate your help." She says this while keeping her back to me, continuing to write in the board. She's definitely not like any of the previous women I've met across the hall. They'd be all in my face asking me questions, but not Sophie. I'd normally think this behavior was rude, but I can see her ass slightly jiggling underneath her dress as she's writing. How I wish she'd bend over in front of me so I could see underneath that dress; that beautiful ass is probably better than anything I've ever seen. I feel my cock starting to bulge. If she were to turn around, I'd be caught staring, and that would be a bad first impression.

I gather my thoughts and walk out of the classroom. Sophie is something special. I need to get to know her on a deeper level; just by the way she carries herself, I can tell she's unique. As I make the walk back to room 203, I think of all the ways I can try to woo her. Maybe I can invite her to my mother's Thanksgiving or out to dinner on the weekend. I don't want to rush into anything; I just want to know more about her, and I will know everything I need in due time.