Mrs. Moffat is angry!

Mrs. Moffat glares at you as you troll in the door. Her black rimmed glasses do little to dim the anger in her gaze.

"John Doe!" She scolds as you freeze, shocked at how angry she is. "This is the third time this week you have turned up late!"

Your newly rebellious demeanour wavers and you mumble an apology as the class sits frozen, watching.

"Sit down and see me after class Mr. Doe."

You spend the first part of the class glaring at her as she teaches, but you're not really angry with her, more so with yourself. You are pissed off with yourself for folding under her scolding and turning to jelly. Fuck her! Your angry defiance swells inside you and you shout it inside your head. Fuck her! Fuck school! What are they going to do? They can get fucked! Fuck the consequences!

Yeah! You start to smile now and the weight of your former frustration lifts. You spend the last part of the class grinning insolently up at Mrs. Moffat whenever she looks your way. Whenever she's not looking you speculate on how attractive the slim mid 20's woman could be if she didn't look so cold or angry or waspish all the time. She does have a trim figure after all and is quite tall, with small but perky looking breasts and long black-pantyhosed legs. Pity about the shitty fringed haircut and the shitty glasses. Oh well.

The class eventually ends and you wonder whether you feel like staying behind or not? Fuck consequences right?