It's just not worth it

When you were in high school, for that matter even when you were in your twenties, having a blonde teenaged student like this to fuck as hard as you like without any chance of her reporting you would have been more than you could resist. You like to think you've learned a few things in the past dozen years, and one of them is certainly that even the best sex in the world is not as important as your self respect.

"Miss Longmire," your voice is as firm as you can make it, "I suggest you stop talking before you make a bad situation worse." Three or four different emotions flick across her expressive face, disbelief, anger, confusion that gradually changes to a grim realization that you are not going to take her up on her offer. "Are you going to walk nicely with me, Miss Longmire?" You ask gently as you loosen the grip on her arm slightly, "or will I have to hold you like this all the way across the quad?" You watch her carefully for any sign of rebellion, "I'd rather avoid that kind of attention, I imagine you do too?"

"You win, Mister." The blonde in the uniform shirt and plaid skirt shrugs her shoulders with a sigh. "Let's get this over with."

The short walk across the grassy quad back to Ms. Naylor's office takes less than two minutes, and in spite of your best intentions to keep this low key, you see a group of sunbathing students watch you with keen interest, and a few other students take note as well. It seems like there will be little that you or the other male teachers will do on this campus that does not attract attention, at least not for the first couple weeks.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Tamara asks as you approach the administration building.

"It's my job, Miss Longmire." You answer her easily, wondering if it might have been better to just back away without a word. "And I believe in doing my job as well as I can."

"Are you gay?" The question catches you by surprise, and Tamara adds a quick explanation. "You didn't even consider my offer. Most guys your age would do almost anything to get into my pants." The way she says most guys your age makes you sound like a geriatric.

"No, Miss Longmire," you tell her without letting her jab at your advanced years and blithe assumption that she is irresistible annoy you, "I'm not gay, but I'm not going to be led around by my cock either."

"Then you were tempted, at least a little. Weren't you?" She persists.

"You're a very pretty young woman, Miss Longmire." You assure the blonde who seems more worried about her desirability than what her punishment might be. "If you were a little older and we met under different circumstances, I'm sure I would be very interested in getting to know you." That much is certainly true, not that you hadn't been tempted back in that classroom too, but you don't need to tell her that.

That seems to satisfy the pretty blonde because the rest of short trip to the Headmistresses office takes place in silence. You knock on the outer office door loudly in case Ms. Naylor is back to reading her book again.

"Come in!" You gesture to Tamara, and she steps through the door into the inner office with a slight wiggle to her ass that you don't remember seeing before. It is with an effort that you lift your gaze up in time to meet Ms. Naylor's questioning look when she meets you and Tamara at the door to her inner sanctum.

"Miss Longmire. Mr. Hawkfeather, what brings you two to my office?"