In the middle of class, You call on me, but I don’t hear it. You write a note and hand it to me. I bite my lip, staring down at the note;
See me after class


I look up at you. You stare back at me for a moment, then go back to teaching. I start taking extensive notes, pouting slightly, contemplating what you want to talk to me about.
The bells rings suddenly and every one races to the door to get to the next class. I stay in my seat, packing my things slowly. You walk over to the door, close it, then lock it.
I turn to You, biting my lip, slightly worried.
“Do you know why I asked you to stay after class?” You ask. I shake my head slowly. You lean against your desk, your arms crossed. “Guess, then”
“Erm..my grades are slipping?” I ask, playing with a stray curl in my face. You shake your head.
“Your grades are perfect, unlike your attitude in class,” You reply. I bite my lip, pulling my curl.
“I’m sorry Professor,” I mumble. “I don’t..mean to..I just daydream a lot..” You nod, sighing.
“I’ve noticed that and it bothers me quite a bit,” You say. “You’re a good student and I don’t think anything should get in your way..especially day-dreaming.”
“I’m..sorry Professor,” I mumble again.
“No..you aren’t..but you will be” You say. I turn my head to one side, You sit down at Your desk. I stand up and walk over to You slowly.
You stare up at me from Your swivel chair, an angry stare upon Your face. I cringe away from Your glare, then look at the chalk board. Your hand is suddenly on my thigh, inching under my black mini-skirt.
I look down at You, You stare back. I realize I’ve mistaken Your lust for anger.