Ask about your grades.

"I was wondering about my grades," you say cheerfully, deciding to play things cool.

"Your grades? There's nothing wrong with your performance, Mr. Doe," she replies. You can't tell if she suspects something, or if it's due to her usual attitudes towards most of her students. "If there was a significant issue with your linguistic affinities, I would know, and you're not one of the problematic students. ...In fact, I'd say it's much easier remembering which of your classmates aren't failing my classes," sniffs Mrs. Tang. You give what you hope is a good-natured wince; Mrs. Tang is well known amongst your class for her astute countenance and dry wit. Small wonder nobody likes her lessons.

"Really? I don't know about that. I think there were a few questions on that last quiz I didn't quite understand," you feign. While it's true that your grades in Foreign Languages aren't stellar you've done enough coursework to avoid a failing grade - which is more than can be said of your classmates. You're chancing on Mrs. Tang's professional code to get her right where you want her.

"Oh, very well. If you're so interested in getting through your work early I can't say no, can I?" sighs Mrs. Tang. You nod, smiling inwardly at how your teacher's taken the bait. As she leads you to the staff rooms you casually glance at her ass; the grey material softly hugging against her curves but looking a little creased, and hiking slightly upward as she walks. You've got Mrs. Tang at her weakest, and your cock throbs more strongly with this knowledge at hand.

"Here." As the automatic doors slide open, Mrs. Tang brings you past the waiting area for students into the main area of the staff room. Not unlike an office building, the main sector is lined with cubicles for teachers to work in, and it almost feels like a miniature maze. It takes a few turns for Mrs. Tang to lead you to her cubicle: a clear desk with immaculately placed cabinets and drawers. "Sit, Mr. Doe," she indicates, pulling up a swivel chair for your as she squats down, fumbling with a set of keys to unlock one of her drawers. Moments later she lifts out a stack of papers, and she sits next to you so you're both leaning slightly towards each other.

"Your register is... Alright. Now let's see where you went wrong..." Meticulously, Mrs. Tang goes down the paper, and you give the occasional responsive nod as she goes on. To be honest, you know most of the mistakes you've made are probably careless, but you don't really care much for Foreign Languages than your peers; just enough to pass comfortably. You've got much more interest in other areas... like the view down Mrs. Tang's blouse, for one. The close proximity is giving you quite the perspective, and as you let your mind wander you realize that you're not the only one affected. There's a tremble in Mrs. Tang finger as she points at your papers instead of the confidently strict stance she usually exudes, and as you glance at her face you spy the faintest of blushes coloring her cheeks. Occasionally she brushes strands of her hair behind her ears, and each time she has to point out something on the left side, she nudges into you and a noticeable shudder.

You have a hunch that if you were to make a move, now would be a good time...