Hot For Teacher, Part Three

By Czolgolz

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For Phantom Rochelle

Graduation night is over. It’s five AM and I’ve spent the last ten hours at the school-sponsored party, chatting and playing games with people I never really was friends with. People say that high school is the best time of your life, but I don’t know. I don’t see the draw. Frankly, I’ll be glad to be leaving this town.

Everyone is picking up their things, getting ready to leave. We say goodbye, promising to call and to get together. Not true, of course. There’s no one here I have a desire to stay in touch with.

“Leon,” comes a stern voice behind me. “Come here, please.”

Except for one.

Mrs. Snow, one of the teacher chaperones, stands there, looking frozen and judgmental. She wears not a hint of makeup. Her auburn hair is tied up in an austere bun. Though the rest of the teachers here tonight wear jeans and t-shirts, she’s dressed, as always, in a plain white blouse and long black skirt.

Maybe an inch or so longer now, I reflect, guiltily.

“Leon, I need to return some of this audio equipment to the school. Kindly help me load it into my car. I’m parked behind the building.”

I follow. There’s no saying no to Mrs. Snow, even though I’m no longer technically a student.

After packing the school’s stereo into the back of her hatchback, she turns to me. “Thank you,” she says icily. "Would you like me to drive you back around front?”

“Yeah, please.”

I sit in the front seat beside her. We’re in the back of the building. It’s dark.

Within seconds, our lips are passionately mashed together, our tongues probing, our hands exploring.

I have never been this turned on in my life. Not even after our little dryer mishap the other day.

After about five minutes, Mrs. Snow shoves me away. She’s breathing heavily.

“I told myself I’d leave you alone. I had myself convinced this is wrong.”

“Yeah. Wrong,” I agree, weakly.

We start kissing again.

“Leon,” she says when she pulls away. “Stop. Someone might see us.”

I really don’t care who knows, but she’s right. She’d lose her job.

“Mrs. Snow...”

“Shh.” She sits quietly, thinking. “I...I don’t suppose you’d be free for dinner this Saturday? I’d like to congratulate you on your graduation.”

I swear, I almost burst into song. “That would be great.”

She’s putting her disheveled hair back in place. “Fine. Do you have a car?”

“Actually, I just bought a—”

She hands me a slip of paper. “Here’s my address. Please dispose of it. Seven sharp. Pull into my garage, I’ll close it behind you.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Her frosty demeanor has returned. “Please dress up. This is going to be somewhat formal. Now, if you don’t mind, could you please get out of the car now?”

“Sure.” I’m intrigued and confused. I stop with one hand on the door handle. “Mrs. Snow? Can I bring anything?”

She starts the car. Then she turns to me with just a hint of a smile. “I’m sure you’ll think of something to surprise me.”

*

I drive my new, completely used truck up to the address at exactly seven. I’m horribly nervous. Maybe I’m expecting more than Mrs. Snow has planned. She made a big deal about this being formal. What if that’s all it is, a dinner?

Well, so be it. I always appreciate a good meal and good company.

I locate her house, and I’m surprised at how small it is. I know my teacher just got a divorce, but I assumed she could still afford something bigger than this cracker box.

The garage door is open and I back in. The automatic door shuts behind me.

I get out of the truck, feeling somewhat foolish in my suit jacket and tie. Maybe I’m overdressed. Maybe I’m underdressed. Should I have rented a tux?

The door to the house opens and for a moment, Mrs. Snow is backlit from inside.

“Hello, Mrs. Snow...” My voice trails off.

She’s not wearing her school clothes. I am not underdressed.

I don’t know much about women’s clothes, but that dress...it’s long and black, and the skirt part has a slit up the side that shows off one hose-clad leg. The front is very low cut. Very. It ties at the back of her neck, leaving her arms, shoulders and back completely bare.

Her hair is up, but not in the severe bun she normally wears. She’s only wearing a little makeup, but in her case, that’s a good thing. Large earrings and a necklace complete the picture.

It’s funny, I accidentally saw her completely naked a few weeks ago. But this...this is ten times as sexy.

I think she misinterprets my stunned silence. “I just bought it,” she says. “Is it too much?”

I step toward her. “Mrs. Snow! You look...incredible.”

I lean forward and kiss my teacher.

My ex teacher. She’s wearing perfume.

When we come up for air, she smiles and adjusts my tie. “Come inside, Leon. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Okay. Hey, I almost forgot, I got you a little something.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.” But the excited look on her face makes it all worth it.

“Go on in, Mrs. Snow. I’ll be there in a sec.”

She’s just taking something off the stove when I come in, a few minutes later. I’m struggling, pulling a huge, sheet-covered box on a hand truck. I set it down in the middle of her tiny living room.

“Goodness, Leon, I was only expecting a bottle of wine or something.”

“I was going to, but I’m underage.” Instantly, I know that was the wrong thing to say. Our age difference has been a huge obstacle, and I don’t need to remind her of that.

She lets it pass. “So can I open it?”

“After dinner, Mrs. Snow. I don’t think either of us will be in the mood for eating once I show this to you. And something sure smells great.” It’s her. That scent she’s wearing, wow.

I sit down across from Mrs. Snow and enjoy a delicious meal. So good, in fact, I’m able to occasionally take my eyes away from the cascade of freckles down her neckline. Actually, we have a very nice conversation. Now that we’re no longer teacher and student (or panicked amateur magician and human bath mat), we really get to know each other.

Apparently, her divorce went badly. Since she’s gainfully employed with no children, her husband left her with almost nothing. I’m shocked to learn she’s actually renting this tiny house.

Mrs. Snow brushes off my condolences. She says that she’ll be back on her feet soon, this is just a temporary setback.

I tell her about my life. She’s shocked, of course, to learn that I’ve been living on my own since I was thirteen. I had no desire to enter the foster care system and found I did better by myself. That’s when I started in on my experiments, of which Mrs. Snow was my first and only guinea pig.

“I’m certainly glad you waited until after graduation to tell me this, Leon,” she says, demurely patting her lip with a napkin. “I’m a mandated reporter.”

“You forget, I’m no longer a student.”

She fixes me with her blue eyes. “No. You certainly are not.”

Mrs. Snow crosses her silverware on her plate. “Finished? Good. Why don’t you show me what you have hidden in the living room?”

I smile, a little nervous. I’m almost entirely sure I have all the bugs worked out. This will go just fine. Really.

Mrs. Snow gasps when I uncover my latest device. It’s simply a large, upright box, with four doors in the front. There’s a caricature of a woman painted on the front. I’m not much of an artist, but I think my teacher doesn’t miss the significance of the reddish hair.

“Oh, Leon...” Her hand covers her mouth. “I shouldn’t do this.”

I take her hand in mine. “You don’t have to.”

Without letting go of me, she slips off her shoes. “Oh, I have to. Shall I step inside?”

I open the four doors. She slips in and faces me.

“Leon, remember what I said last time? About you keeping your hands to yourself if I should become...helpless?”

“Yes. Of course.”

She reaches forward and flicks my tie. “I’m not going to ask that of you this time. Use your own judgment.”

I swallow hard. Then I slowly close all four doors.

“You okay in there, Mrs. Snow?”

“Yes,” comes her muffled reply.

I pick up a large, silver sheet. “Do me a favor and cross your arms under your chin. Keep them at shoulder height, please.”

“Okay.”

“Ready?”

“For what?”

I shove the blade through a slot in the side of the box, right where her armpits would be. She screams in surprise.

“Still okay?”

“I’m not sure!”

I smile. So far so good.

“Leon, warn me before you—”

I ram another blade home, right at her waist. She hollers again, louder this time.

“Damn it, Leon, let me know when—”

One more blade, in the middle of her thighs.

“That was the last blade, Mrs. Snow.”

“Thanks, Leon,” she snaps.

Now comes my favorite part. I gently remove the top portion of the cabinet and set it on the floor.

“Leon? Kiddo?” comes a slightly frightened voice from within.

“You’re doing great, ma’am,” I call. I remove the two other boxes, then quickly restack them in a new order.

I notice a wall mounted mirror and shift the stack so that Mrs. Snow will get a good look at the results. I then open the bottommost box.

Mrs. Snow’s hips and the tops of her legs, still encased in her dress, are visible. I move to the top box.

My teacher’s chest, barely contained in her tiny dress, protrudes out at me, her stomach just below. Right at eye level. I’m tempted to take her up on her offer that I don’t have to be a gentleman tonight, but I resist.

I open the second box. Her bare, painted toes wiggle at me. I give them a quick tickle, eliciting a shriek from below.

Finally, I kneel down and open the box that’s second from bottom. There’s Mrs. Snow’s head, shoulders, and folded arms. Directly below her feet, immediately above her hips.

She stares at me, then at her reflection in the mirror. She wiggles her toes. I pat her belly. Just assuring her that this is NOT smoke and mirrors.

“It’s never a dull moment with you, Leon,” she says after a pause.

I’m still on my knees in front of her. “Hope you’re not angry.”

“I kind of saw this coming.” With surprising agility, she snakes out a hand and pulls me toward her. Our lips are soon pressed together.

This time there’s no fear. We’re alone. I kiss her hungrily, inhale her perfume. I kiss her neck. I’d kiss her shoulders, but my head won’t fit in the box with her.

“Mmm, Kiddo,” she murmurs, as I nuzzle her ear. “You know how to make a girl feel special.”

I reach around to put my hand on the small of her back, but remember it’s about two feet above my head. “It’s that dress. You’re driving be crazy.”

“Please, you saw me naked when you put me through the wringer.”

“Sexiest sight I ever saw.” I place my hand in the lower box and gently rub her thigh. She doesn’t complain.

“Flatterer.”

“You mean flattener.”

She giggles. “Well, thanks. But I’m sure I’m not as sexy as any of your teenage girlfriends.”

I pull away for a second. “Huh?”

She’s smiling, but nervous, too. “I’m a lot older than the girls I’m sure you’re used to. Not as skinny and firm, I’m sure.”

I touch her cheek. “Mrs. Snow...when I saw your body last month....that was the first time I’d...I mean...Look. I’ve never actually been with a girl, okay?”

Her smile spreads across her face. “Just think, Kiddo, when you take me out of this box, you’ll never be able to say that again.”

I close the door kind of abruptly in her face, followed by the other three. I’m rather anxious to get her back to normal, all of a sudden. I yank out the blades, restack the cabinets, and then throw open the doors again.

And that’s when I realize I’ve made a terrible mistake.

I was distracted. I misstacked the boxes. Put the top two in the wrong order. And I took out the blades before correcting my mistake.

Mrs. Snow is more or less whole. Head, chest, arms, hips, legs, everything looks okay.

Except for her face. It’s gone. Between her ears, there is nothing but pale, white skin.

Except for...

I step closer to confirm what I thought I saw.

Except for a cute little outie belly button.

Her stomach is now where her face should be.

Mrs. Snow wobbles. Her hands slowly creep from her sides and nervously feel her head. They move away in shock, then gently touch herself again, her fingers running over her smooth belly, as if searching for the features that are no longer there.

“Mrs. Snow?”

She lowers her hands and does something with her dress, pulling the front up, away from the skirt.

There, where her navel used to be, I see her mouth, nose, and eyes.

She does not look happy, especially when she sees her reflection. Mrs. Snow ties a knot in her dress to keep her face uncovered. She then places her hands on her hips, bookending her face.

“Is this your idea of a joke, Leon?” There’s that stern teacher voice.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Snow. I got a little excited. Let me fix you.”

She shakes her belly. “I think I’ve had enough of being manipulated by you for the moment. Take my hand.”

Confused as to why she doesn’t want to get back to normal, I touch Mrs. Snow’s arm. She lets me lead her out of the box. She’s quite unsteady. Obviously, her center of balance is very off.

“Help me sit on that stool. Good boy.”

She makes an interesting picture, her stark white stomach and slightly freckled face in the wrong places. But it doesn’t decrease her beauty. The parts are all sexy, no matter what order they’re in.

I stand there like an idiot, wondering if, once again, I’ve screwed everything up. She certainly doesn’t look friendly. But then she smiles at me, from under her chest.
“Turn on the stereo, Leon. I want to dance with you.”

Maybe all is not lost. I quickly find a slow music station and gently take her by the hand.

I have no idea how to dance.

But I don’t think that matters. I place my hands on her hips, just next to her face. She wraps her arms around my neck. We gently move in time to the music.

I get a little weirded out, staring her in the stomach like this, so I place my cheek against her belly. From below, I hear a happy moan.

I suddenly remember what my teacher must be looking directly at. She’s bound to realize how much I’m enjoying holding her.

“Kiss me, Leon.”

Does she mean on her mouth? I don’t think so. So I kiss her ear. Her neck. Her bare shoulder. Then, taking her head in my hands, I cover that white belly with kisses.

Though she can’t kiss back, she seems to really enjoy this. “Yes, Leon,” comes a voice at my waist. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

I’m practically making out with her navel. I’m liking this a lot more than I would have expected.

Suddenly, Mrs. Snow grabs me by the shoulders and shoves me into the wall so hard that the mirror is almost knocked down. Her hands move to the back of her neck. In seconds, her entire dress collapses on the floor. She’s wearing nothing but green panties.

I only have a second to take in the whole beautiful picture: the heaving breasts, the erect nipples, the countless freckles, and Mrs. Snow’s smirking face, just above her panty line. Then she slams herself into me again. Grabbing my head with both hands, shoving it toward her chest.

“Oh, God...”

I feel her hands struggling with my pants, undoing my belt, lowering my zipper. From below comes a sultry voice.

“Whatever you do, don’t move.”

“What...oh, God.

“Oh, God!”

(I’m so glad I accidentally made her shorter)

“Oh, God, Mrs. Snow! Mrs. Snow! MRS. SNOW!”

*

Hours later, the sun is coming up. I finish loading the mismade box back into my truck. Mrs. Snow, now back in the correct order, watches me from the doorway. She’s wearing a carelessly tied bathrobe now.

“Ah, Leon, where have you been all my life?”

I assume ‘Not born, mostly,’ is the wrong answer.

She looks down at herself. “I always feel like I have to do a fully body inspection after you leave, Kiddo.”

I walk up to her and kiss her. “I’d be glad to help.”

She swats my hand away. “Get out of here. Honestly, I don’t see how you’d have the energy for another round.”

I make a grab for her robe tie. “Try me.”

She gently but firmly pushes me away. “It’s almost daytime. You need to get out of here before anyone sees you.”

She’s right. But there’s something I have to say.

“Mrs. Snow, I’m going to take my act on the road. Nothing big, but I’ve already had a couple of offers from small casinos and the like.”

Her face breaks into a happy smile. “I’m so proud of you, Leon. I’m going to miss you, but I know you’re going to knock ‘em dead.”

I look at the garage floor. “The thing is...I kind of need a sexy assistant to pull off these tricks.”

I hope she’ll connect the dots, but she doesn’t say anything, so I’m forced to flat out ask her.

“So...would you be up for it? You’d look great in a sequined bikini.”

“Leon...” she smiles sadly.

“C’mon, cheap motels, on the road all the time, bad diner food.”

“Leon.”

I place my hands on her shoulders. “We’d get to do this every night. You haven’t even seen half the tricks I know. You’ve wasted half your life with some jerk. Let’s go have fun together. You and me.”

Just looking at her, I can tell she’s not even considering my insane suggestion.

“You know I can’t do that, Leon.”

“Why not?” I sound like a whiny kid.

She touches my cheek. “I can retire in fifteen years. I can’t put that at risk.”

I’m floored. “This is about money?”

She shakes her head. “No. Kiddo, if I was twenty, hell, if I was thirty, I’d be packing my bags. But I just turned forty. I’m twenty-two years older than you. It may not matter to you now, but it will someday. I promise.”

“Mrs. Snow, I don’t care!”

“Not now. But when you’re out there having adventures, and cute little skinny girls are coming on to you...you don’t want to have to come home to someone old like me. Even though I really do look incredible for my age.”

“You really do. I wish I could change your mind. Maybe I should have asked you before I restored you.”

“That certainly would have given you a big bargaining chip. Goodbye, Leon. E-mail me. Tell me about your adventures. And if you ever swing through town again...give me a call, okay?”

I sigh. “I will. I promise.”

We kiss. Somehow I know this is the last time.

“Thanks for everything. Break a leg, Kiddo.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Snow. I’ll never forget you.”

“You’d better not.”

Wordlessly, I climb into my truck and back off. I try to catch one last glimpse of my teacher, but the garage door is already closing.

I was sincere about wanting her to come with me. But she’s probably right, it wouldn’t have worked out. Still, we both have the beautiful memories. I’ll always treasure our special extracurricular activities.

(don't worry, there's one more chapter to come)