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“Sara! How nice to see you!”
I turned from the bookshelf I was searching, to see my old teacher, Mrs Slade, standing next to me. I smiled and greeted her, and we were soon talking about how I was doing at University, and what some of my old classmates were doing. It was nice to see Mrs Slade, she’d always been one of my favourite teachers, and she’d been so supportive and pleased when I got the results I’d needed to get on my course at the local Uni.
“Were you looking for anything in particular?” she asked, looking at the shelves of textbooks next to us.
I explained that I wanted a specific book for a paper I had to write, there was a copy in the Uni library but it seemed to be permanently loaned out. I couldn’t see a copy on the shelves in the bookshop, nor could Mrs Slade.
“I suppose I could order it, but by the time it arrives I won’t have much time to work on my paper,” I sighed.
“It is very good, I remember reading it a few years ago, a bit dated now perhaps but very thorough. Look, I’m not sure I’ve still got it, but I can have a look at home. If I can find it, you’d be welcome to borrow it if it would help?”
“Oh, that would be lovely, if you don’t mind?” I said gratefully.
She smiled, “Of course I don’t mind, I’m happy to help. I’ve got a few things to do today, but if you’d like to pop round tomorrow, you can pick it up.”
She gave me her address, and we agreed that I’d go round to see if she’d found the book the following lunchtime. We parted with Mrs Slade saying again how nice it was to see me and how glad she was Uni was going well.
– – – – – – – – – –
I suppose I should introduce myself and tell you a bit about me. I’m Sara, I’m 20 and I’m studying history at the local University. I’m partway through my second year, so it’s about 18 months since I left school and last saw Mrs Slade. I’m quite short and slim, with very small breasts but a nice pert bum. I have shoulder-length light brown hair – on my head only, I keep everything else shaved smooth. I love the feel of my bare mound under my fingers, something I’d been feeling a lot lately as my girlfriend had gone home for the holidays. I’ve always loved sex, and after a couple of weeks of my fingers I was missing the real thing!
Yes, my girlfriend, I’m…well, I don’t know if I’m really a lesbian, I’ve been with a few guys, but these days I’m only really interested in girls so I suppose I am a lesbian. Anyway, I like girls, and I’d been seeing this girl from Uni, nothing very serious but a lot of fun, some of it quite kinky. I’m a bit submissive and Katie likes to be on top, so we had a bit of a Mistress and sub thing going on. Nothing too heavy, but I get tied up sometimes and I’m regularly spanked. I’ve played those sort of games before a bit, always as the submissive, and I’ve never really thought about switching.
Mrs Slade had taught me on and off throughout the time I was at the High School. As I said she was one of my favourite teachers, partly because she taught history, but mostly because I liked the way she taught. She was always happy to answer questions and help with any problems, and although she was a bit too serious to be one of the obviously popular teachers, she had a reputation as a teacher you could talk to when you really needed to talk to someone. I thought she was in her late 40s (actually she was in her mid 50s), still slim, with reddish brown hair. Mrs Slade had never been one of the teachers I had schoolgirl fantasies about. Although she was quite attractive, at school she always wore very professional trousers and skirts, with smart blouses or jumpers, just as she had when I saw her in the bookshop. I don’t think I’d ever really had a sexual thought about her, and although a couple of girls claimed she’d given them lingering glances, she certainly didn’t have a reputation as a leching closet lesbian, unlike a couple of her colleagues.
I still live at home with Mum and Dad. One of the reasons for going to the local Uni, apart from its excellent reputation in my subject, was to keep the costs down and not end up with too much debt when I finished. I’ve had a couple of part-time jobs, but Mum and Dad were pretty much supporting me through my studies. Dad’s a bit of an old leftie, and gets very cross when student loans and tuition fees get mentioned. They met at Uni, and he always says that if he’d had to pay he’d never have been able to go, and he’d have missed out on everything best in his life, meaning Mum and me of course. They know about Katie, and they like her and don’t have a problem with me being into girls, although I know Mum hopes I’ll make her a grandma one day.
– – – – – – – – – –
I arrived at Mrs Slade’s house about 11, a bit earlier than we’d arranged. I wasn’t especially eager, in fact I was slow getting up and thought I’d be late, so I hurried through things and ended up being early by accident. It was a nice house, detached and set back a little from the road. I don’t know what her husband did for a living but it şırnak escort felt a bit more affluent than I’d have expected on a teacher’s salary.
I parked in the street and walked up the drive, hoping Mrs Slade wouldn’t mind me being early. There was a car parked in the drive so I guessed she was probably at home. I rang the doorbell, looking at the plant pots on the porch and thinking it must look nice when they were all in flower.
For a moment I couldn’t hear anything, and I was about to ring again when I heard Mrs Slade’s voice calling from the back of the house, “Hang on, I’m just coming!”
A few moments later the door opened to reveal Mrs Slade looking as dishevelled as I’d ever seen her. Her long wavy hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, she was wearing a faded old green t-shirt and grey jogging pants, and she had a couple of smudges on her slightly flushed face and a pair of rubber gloves in her hand.
“Oh my, Sara!” she exclaimed, flushing a little more. “I am so sorry my dear, I completely forgot you were coming, I haven’t even looked for the book, and I’m in the middle of cleaning out the kitchen cupboards, and I must look a sight, and…oh come in my dear, just give me a minute to sort myself out and we’ll see what we can do about the book.”
I giggled, and said it was fine, and followed her into the house. That was typical of Mrs Slade, a lovely teacher, but organisation was never her strong point, and she often seemed to be on the verge of chaos. She was often late handing back homework, (to be fair she was quite forgiving if it was handed in late), probably because she seemed to take a lot of care with marking. In Year 10 she once started giving us a lesson about something we’d studied two years earlier because she forgot which class she was teaching!
We walked along the hall and into the kitchen. The hall was clean, but there was a pile of exercise books untidily stacked by the bottom of the stairs and a bulging black bin bag by the door, obviously ready to be taken out to the bin.
“I’m so sorry Sara, I got up this morning with an urge to sort out the kitchen, and it drove everything else out of my head. Do you get days like that? You always seemed so organised at school, I don’t think I remember you being late with homework,” she said, trying to pull herself together and be the professional teacher.
“Oh, I do know what you mean, I’m not that together, sometimes I wake up with only one thought in my head, and everything else has to wait until it’s done,” I replied, thinking that my waking urges usually involved slipping my hand into my panties and having a nice little cum. Not the kind of thing I could tell Mrs Slade!
The kitchen was lovely, or would have been if it hadn’t been in the middle of cleaning. It was large and sunny, but half the cupboard doors were open, and various things were strewn around on the worktops. Mrs Slade gestured towards the sink, the cupboard underneath was wide open, there were cleaning products on the floor and a washing-up bowl of warm soapy water by the open doors. A radio was playing music quietly in the background.
“I was just scrubbing under the sink, I can’t imagine how it got so grimy,” she continued. “I was nearly done, do you mind if I just give it a quick wipe over before we look for your book?”
“Of course not,” I said, “You finish up, it’s my fault for being early,”
“You’re very sweet, I’ll just pop the kettle on, and then we can have a coffee,” Mrs Slade said, filling the kettle and flicking the switch. She invited me to sit, and I hopped up onto a stool by the breakfast bar as she knelt by the sink and leaned into the cupboard, pulling on her rubber gloves and picking up a wet dishcloth from the washing-up bowl.
As I sat on the stool I looked at Mrs Slade as she leaned right into the cupboard. I couldn’t help noticing her jogging pants stretching over her bum, the shape of bikini panties visible underneath. With waking up late and hurrying, I hadn’t had my usual morning finger exercise, so I was perhaps a bit more alert to the smooth curves of Mrs Slade’s bum, which looked nice and firm despite her being older than my Mum. As she sat back to wring out the cloth, I noticed a little sway under her t-shirt, and wondered if she was wearing a bra, there certainly wasn’t any little pucker on her back where the clasp would be.
Mrs Slade leaned back into the cupboard, making small talk about housework, and I enjoyed watching her bottom as it swayed and wriggled as she wiped and scrubbed. I could feel the beginnings of warmth between my legs, and thought that I would have to have a proper play when I got home, maybe call Katie up and see if she wanted to play on Skype. I shifted on the stool, letting my legs part a little, and even gave my thigh a little rub below my skirt. I hadn’t worn anything special, just my usual shortish skirt and a little top. I wasn’t wearing a bra either, I don’t need one with my firm little tits and I usually only şırnak escort bayan wear one to hide my nipples. I could feel them starting to prickle and get a little firmer under my top as I watched Mrs Slade’s bottom moving.
After a few minutes she sat back and pulled off her rubber gloves, my eyes flicking to look innocently out of the window.
“That’ll do for today,” she said. “I’ll tidy this lot away later, are you in a hurry or would you like a coffee before we look for the book?”
“Coffee sounds lovely, thank you, Mrs Slade. I’m not in any hurry, I’ve got nothing else planned for today,” I smiled.
“Please, call me Sophie,” she said. “We’re not at school anymore, I think we can talk like adults,” she smiled.
“Then thank you, Sophie,” I said smiling back at her.
Sophie poured away the dirty water and washed her hands, before making us coffee, asking if I wanted decaff and how I took it.
“Black, sweet and what’s the point without caffeine?” was my smiling reply, which made her laugh.
“Coming right up,” she said, giggling a little. “I think I’ve earned a few calories, and I don’t suppose you have to worry about them at your age, so would you like a biscuit? I’ve got some lovely chocolate ones in the cupboard.”
“Oh, I try to keep an eye on what I eat,” I replied. “But chocolate calories don’t count, that’s what Mum always says anyway.”
Sophie laughed again and turned to one of the wall cupboards. “I keep them up here so I’m not too tempted,” she said, opening the cupboard and reaching up to the top shelf. As she did, her shirt stretched over her medium sized breasts, and I was sure she wasn’t wearing anything under it. There was a little pucker where her nipple pressed against the shirt, and I felt another tiny pulse of warmth in my pussy. It was odd to have these feelings, however small, about Mrs Slade (it was hard to think of her as Sophie) after all these years. Although she was always well dressed at school, I realised that her work clothes really didn’t draw any attention to her body, probably a good idea with so many horny young boys (and girls!) around at school.
Despite her casual clothes, and lack of make-up, I saw that Sophie was a very attractive woman. I suppose being naturally slim made it easier to keep a fairly youthful figure, certainly she looked in better shape than my Mum. Don’t get me wrong, Mum’s still quite good-looking, but she’s definitely put on some weight over the last few years, not all of it where she might want it. A couple of my lezzy friends have commented on her nice tits, and judging by the noises I sometimes hear at night Dad still finds her very sexy, but she looks her age. Mrs Slade had a few small wrinkles, and one or two grey hairs, but her figure could have passed for ten years younger than Mum, even though she was actually a few years older. I found out later she was more than 10 years older, but I’d never have guessed it. As she stretched to reach the shelf, her shirt rode up a little, and I caught a flash of quite a toned tummy, with just a hint of soft curve to show her age. I couldn’t help hoping I’d look more like Sophie than my Mum when I got to their sort of age.
Lifting down the biscuit tin, Mrs Slade sat back on her stool, brushing aside a stray lock of hair. She offered me a biscuit, and took one herself, placing the tin on the worktop between us. We chatted for a while about my course, being in the same subject Sophie knew a couple of my lecturers slightly; in fact she’d been at college with one of them, although not in the same year. I playfully asked if there were any embarrassing secrets she could share, but she shook her head laughing.
“Nothing really,” she said, “I was a very serious student, didn’t get up to much. I was very shy when I was young, still am a bit, to be honest. I sometimes think I missed out on a few things because of it, especially when I was a student and could have sown some wild oats. I’m sure you’re working hard, I’ve taught you long enough to know that, but I hope you’re having plenty of fun too?”
“Oh yes, I do a bit of partying in between assignments,” I said smiling, privately wondering what Sophie would look like in the middle of sowing some wild oats.
“I have a girlfriend…” I paused for a moment, noticing a sudden flush on Sophie’s cheeks and a catch in her breath, “…she’s gone home to Wales for the holidays, but we have plenty of fun when she’s here.”
Sophie’s cheeks were quite red, and she shifted in her seat nervously. For a moment I wondered if she disapproved, but she asked about my girlfriend and what she was studying, quite natural despite her blush, and I concluded that there had to be another reason. Did Mrs Slade have an interest in girls being together, perhaps even an interest in me? She’d never shown any sign of it, and I thought it must just be that she wasn’t used to someone being so open about being gay. There was not the slightest hint of disapproval in her voice, escort şırnak and she seemed quite interested in hearing about us.
We talked about Katie for a few minutes, and I noticed her flushed cheeks didn’t fade, and she seemed quite fidgety all of a sudden. I was sure I could see her nipples starting to firm up under her shirt, especially when I told her that Katie had a figure as slim and girlish as mine. She told me about her husband, he was something in the City, but her explanation was even more incomprehensible to me than Dad’s job in finance for a local business. I noticed that when she talked about her husband the flush on her cheeks faded a little, and I wondered if some of the excitement had gone out of their relationship.
I deliberately let my legs part a little more, showing a bit more thigh, and I was sure her eyes flickered down and her cheeks grew hotter again. I was giggling inside at the thought of my favourite teacher looking at my legs and thinking about me and Katie, but that was all it was, just a slightly naughty little giggle. I certainly wasn’t going to be sowing any “wild oats” with Mrs Slade; she’d known me since I was just a little girl really.
We sat talking for some time, something on the radio caught her attention and we talked about music for a while. Not surprisingly her tastes were closer to my parents’ than to mine, but it all felt very comfortable and there was something nice about chatting like this with someone I’d known as a teacher, and always looked up to I suppose. After a while she asked if I was sure she wasn’t keeping me from anything, and, if not, would I like another coffee?
“I’d love another cup, and I’m no hurry to leave unless you want to get back to your cleaning,” I said. “This is really nice, I’ve never talked to a teacher like this, I don’t think.”
“It is very pleasant, I think the cleaning can wait,” Sophie smiled back. “Do you know something, I’m not sure I’ve ever had an ex-pupil in my kitchen before either, it’s probably…” she seemed to struggle for words for a moment, “…probably frowned upon a little, but it doesn’t feel inappropriate at all to have you here.”
Obviously slightly flustered, Sophie turned to make fresh coffee. I watched her, feeling sure that her discomfort was due to some “inappropriate” thoughts flitting through her head. The longer we had talked, the surer I was that Sophie was stealing little glances at my legs. I could feel her eyes flicker across my chest and knew my nipples were starting to tent the thin fabric. I wouldn’t exactly say the room was full of sexual tension, and there was nothing overt in our conversation, but I was definitely feeling a little frisky and I was sure Sophie was having a little tingle too.
By the time the coffee was ready, Sophie seemed to have recovered her poise a little, although I could see her nipples were still quite prominent.
“I’ll tell you what, come up to my office and we can have a look for that book, there might be a couple of others up there that you’d be interested in,” suggested Sophie.
“Sure,” I replied, although I was thinking that there were a couple of things under her t-shirt I was getting quite interested in. “If you’re sure you’re happy lending me your books?”
“Of course, I know you’ll take good care of them and get good use from them, so help yourself to anything you like,” she said, and flushed again at the double meaning, a double meaning a professional teacher should never have thought of.
Sophie hurried down the hall, pausing at the bottom of the stairs.
“Do you mind taking my coffee?” she asked, looking down at the pile of exercise books by the stairs. “I really should take those up, I’ve got some marking to do.”
“No problem at all,” I replied, taking the cup from her hand, our fingers touching for a moment. Sophie crouched down to gather the books, and as I looked down I got a brief glimpse of the shadows beneath her neckline and a hint of swelling breasts.
Sophie straightened, the homework books gathered in her arms, and led the way upstairs. I paid just enough attention to the cups I was carrying to ensure I didn’t spill anything as I followed, but mostly I was admiring the play of her bottom under the soft jogging trousers. Her loosely gathered hair hung halfway to her waist, the waves swaying as she climbed the stairs, and I found myself wondering what it would be like to bury my fingers in her tresses and pull her face to me for a kiss. I couldn’t pretend any longer, I fancied this woman who had taught me for years and, unless I was completely mistaken, she was attracted to me too.
We went into her office, obviously a repurposed spare bedroom, and Sophie stacked the unmarked homework on a chair inside the door. The office was what I would have expected from my rather disorganised teacher, there were several stacks of files and papers on the floor and the tall bookshelves had books pushed in higgledy-piggledy wherever they would fit. On the wall above the desk was a whiteboard with a “To Do” list written in Mrs Slade’s neat handwriting, but dated a couple of months ago. When we were downstairs I’d vaguely noticed a couple of fine art prints on the walls, but up here there were several more, together with a number of postcards of similar artworks pinned up in various places.
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