Mom at the Door

You've never before been in love. You've heard about it in popular music, you've seen it played out in movies and television shows, but it's always been theoretical, something that happened to someone else. As Bella, your history teacher, disentangles herself from your arms and climbs out of bed, the hole of her absence told you that something inside of you had changed. You don't know how, but love has found you.

You watch the older woman, an image of beauty, climb off of the bed and pad out of the room quietly completely naked. In amazement, you consider how until the day before you had never felt anything for the woman. She was a teacher at your school, attractive, sure, but nowhere near what you would consider as a potential romantic partner. She was aloof. She was controlled. She was a teacher, for goodness sake!

Now you see her in an entirely different light. Sure, you are inexperienced, although your week with Shelly had changed that quite a bit, but the feelings you feel for her are real. Deep. The more you think about her, the more you worry that you are drowning in your emotions, lost in the current of desire, pulled out into the sea of passion, awash in the...

"Quick, get your clothes on!" Bella runs back into the room, her breasts bouncing with each step, a look of terror on her face.

"Why?" you say, catching the jeans and underwear she has thrown at you.

"Your mother is at the door!"she says, frantically dressing herself in a pair of flannel pajamas.

"My mother?!" you squeak, leaping off of the bed, throwing on your clothes. You don't bother correcting Bella that she is, in fact, your step-mother. It doesn't matter. Bella's panic is real, and is justified. Should Bella be caught in bed with a student, it wouldn't just mean the end of her career, it would most likely mean criminal charges!

Haphazardly dressed in her pajamas, Bella grabs a spare pillow and blanket from her closet, then runs out of the room, throwing them on the couch. While she is frantic, she is silent.

"Get in," she whispers, pointing at the makeshift bed, which you immediately obey. Then she makes her way to the door, turns the deadbolt, and swings it open.

"Where is my son," you hear your usually laid-back matron hiss.

"He's asleep on the couch."

"Hi mom," you say, sitting up, blinking as if you are just opening your eyes now.

"I don't know what I was thinking," she says, crossing her arms, "but if you don't mind, I'll be taking John home."

"Oh, of course," Bella says in a very professional voice, "John, gather your things. We can touch base at school to address any tutoring needs in the future. Thank-you, Ms. Doe, for being so generous with his time."

"Hmph," your step-mother grunts, obviously not trusting the teacher. At least she wasn't making any accusations.

After gathering your books, putting on your shoes, you leave. It is difficult not to express your feelings to your teacher, no matter the consequences, but the last thing you want to do is cause her pain. You see a look of loss in her eyes as you leave. You hope that the look isn't echoed in your eyes, at least in the view of your mother.