Go See Mike's Dad

"Sure no problem I can bring the book over right away," you answer realizing you need to figure out how to get back in your correct body much more than attending yoga class. Raul will just have to wait you think as you begin slipping on the sexy underwear you had moments ago been admiring. "Address no I..." you stop yourself as you realize that Ms. Bickler unlike you should not know where you live, "I mean let me get a pen." You walk over to your closet and begin to pick out an outfit before pretending to be ready to jot down your address. "Ok yeah, I know where that is. Give me twenty minutes. No, it's no problem."

"I can't just wear anything with this lingerie on," you muse to yourself as you rifle through Stacy's closet. You pick out an ensemble consisting of a pleated mini skirt, white dress shirt, and navy cardigan. "I look more like one of my students than a teacher," you say as you admire yourself in your full-length mirror. "Now let me just put on a pair of thigh highs and grab my heels, and I'll be ready to go get back to my body."

Even though you drive carefully across town and avoid being pulled over in your **** state and miss your chance to get this ordeal over with you still make it home much quicker than you had estimated. You walk up to your door and instinctively reach for your keys before realizing this isn't where Stacy lives. After nervously smoothing your skirt you reach up and ring the doorbell.

After what seems an eternity the door finally opens. You are taken aback when your father opens the door. You had never realized what a handsome man he is. In fact, it strikes you odd that he would have settled for someone as plain as your mother.

"Ms. Bickler come in." Mr. Abernathy says with a warm smile on his face.

"Thanks," you reply as you step inside. "Is Mike home I need to make certain he heard all the instructions I gave in class. He seemed to be spacing out toward the end."

"I'm not sure where he is. Typically, he is sitting on the couch watching television. But today there was no trace of him even coming home from school besides his phone laying on the table." Mr. Abernathy says as he shuts the door behind you. "Can I offer you something to drink? Water, soda, tea, whiskey?"

That last selection makes you pause. You are still a bit tipsy from the wine, but you know your father only stocks the best Irish whiskey. "A whiskey sounds lovely Mr. Abernathy. Just the thing to take the edge off a day of teaching our future generation.

Your father gives out a hearty laugh. "I bet it can be burdensome trying to instruct a bunch of lazy teenagers. By the way call me Dave," he adds as he hands you a glass of amber liquid.

You raise your glass in salute. "Dave it is." You then pour the contents down your throat in a single gulp.

"Easy there Ms. Bickler," Dave says with an impish grin as he refills your glass. "A small girl like you drinking like that is a recipe for getting wasted."

"Call me Stacy. Don't let my svelt frame fool you. And I assure you I can hold my liquor," you state as you strike a sexy pose.

"I'll drink to that," Dave jokes as he downs his glass before setting it on the table. "One thing strikes me as odd. In my day a teacher would have just let a student who forgot their textbook at school twist in the wind. Homework or no homework."

You start to grow uneasy as to where exactly your father is going with his line of questioning. Dave then circles behind you as you take a nervous sip of whiskey. "Also, Stacy I call you and you show up promptly dressed quite sexily. What's a father to think in this day and age of inappropriate teacher-student relationships." Dave is now pressed up right against you resting a hand on your hip.

"It's not like that," you begin to lie, "your call just happened to catch me as I was getting ready to go out for the evening."

Dave leans in and whispers in your ear. "You're a terrible liar. You were expecting a callback. I heard the voicemail. You were jittery with long pauses like you were speaking double speak." Dave then slides his hand under your skirt. "I'll make you a deal. You do what you were going to do with my son with me, and then I don't go to your principal."