Chemistry and French

Chemistry class was next, and I strolled to class. I had no interest in getting on Mr. Rockwell’s, our chemistry teacher, bad side. Although Mr. Stone didn’t punish me, that didn’t mean I was safe. I would be on my best behavior and was. Chemistry class went off without a hitch. I walked towards the last class of the day, French class. I had a bounce to my step. My French teacher, Ms or rather Madame Laurent was one of the hottest teachers in the school. She was fresh out of Teacher’s College, had a youthful perk and vigor topped with a sexy French accent. She looked like a more girl-next-door version of Lea Seydoux, with shoulder-length blonde hair. Secretly, I had always thought Madame Laurent had a thing for me, the thought that was shared by every other male student she probably had as well as she smiled and played with her hair and said sexy French things to us.

I checked in, and she was already there preparing. I thought to myself. How can I get in trouble? I would test the waters with this whole thing. I would have to take small steps. Dealing **** had landed me in sex water, but I was still hesitant about doing something outright illegal or would get me expelled usually. Being late would merely be eating her pussy? I had to land somewhere in the middle.

I came in and sat in my seat, at the back as usual. I was still jaded from fucking Mrs. Leigh, and a thought occurred I could just do nothing and attend the class as usual. That changed the minute Madame Laurent spoke in her French accent. Her tone pierced my ears and made me sit in my seat upright. She greeted us with “Bonjour,” which the class replied in kind.

I pulled out my phone. Sorry old friend. You’ll be my sacrifice for this experiment. I played obnoxious rap music with a lot of cursing and racial profanities loudly and placed it on my desk; the music blaring out of the phone’s speakers interrupting the class. I bounced my head to the rhythm and smiled. Madame Laurent stared at me, and the rest of the class did as well. My smile faded by my nerves with all the attention of the class. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Monsieur Adam, please turn off your phone please,” Madame Laurent said in French in soft understanding tones and smiled.

I didn’t. I would see where this rabbit hole led. I shrugged and spoke in plain English. “I don’t speak Frog,”

The class gasped. Madame Laurent’s bright smile faded away. I could see a hint of despair and anger in her eyes. Before all this happened, Madame Laurent was a particularly easy going teacher at this school. She would let us get away with light infractions like having our phones out or coming in late no problem, so I think I needed to be particularly disobedient to warrant her attention.

Madame Laurent came over to the side of my desk and spoke gently in an almost whisper in French-accented English. “Adam turn it off, please. Or you will face ze consequences.”