Class comes to an end

Miss Vargas returned to the board, and wrote a few more lines to illustrate the principle of estar. The students were still paying attention to her, but the mood in the room felt a little slanted somehow. Is something distracting them?

The bell rang.

Chairs scooched, bags were hoisted, and the students filtered out the door like a receding tide. Someone — Maria didn’t quite catch who — said that he liked her look today. She frowned at the empty compliment and glanced down. Black lace; her panties in full view; the cups of her bra; the top bands of her stockings digging into her thighs; the gray sweater fully hanging open. Her skirt lay some distance away, pooled in a dark ring beside the desks.

She made no sound, but a high-pitched gasp.

Wh- when did they- how?!

Jordan hadn’t left with the others yet. He was already beside her desk, phone jabbed towards her, close enough that Miss Vargas only had enough time to lift her eyes.

> Flash <

The picture caught her as she was: Mouth agape, hands not yet raised to cover herself, her open sweater framing her cleavage and the gentle bump of her stomach. Unknowingly undone, like a gift half-unwrapped, or a bewildered deer in the strobe of headlights. “Thanks for the lesson, Miss Vargas,” he said, lowering the phone, “same time next week.” Jordan clapped her on the shoulder and departed after the others. The door clicked shut behind him. Maria stood beside her desk in her unzipped sweater and underwear a moment longer, flummoxed, before recovering herself enough to pull her open sweater shut.