A nerd with a crush

For most of the day Alison and I were out of touch. I spent a good part of the afternoon half watching the Yankee's game, but honestly I think I napped for at least three or four of the middle innings. Alison stayed upstairs until dinner time when I called her down for some chicken parmesan that I had in the freezer.

I also played and replayed our conversation this morning in the car when she asked me what kind of schoolgirl I would most like to bang. I've had my share of fantasies about sex with students; not that I was ever actually tempted to sleep with any of my students. There were more than a few times that I jacked off thinking about my school's cheerleaders or the pretty schoolgirls with their pleated skirts and knee socks that went to the cross-town Diocesan Catholic high school. This situation though is a little different, and I had no idea what I'd tell her if Alison pressed me about this tonight.

We ate in silence for the first five or six minutes. Like me, the usually bubbly coed clearly was working through something in her head.

“Wesleyan has cancelled just about everything, Mr. P, and they're talking about sending students home for Thanksgiving and not having us come back until January.” I had heard similar reports around town, but hadn't really given much thought until I realized that this rent-deal we worked out might be over in just a couple months.

“That stinks.” The thought that of living alone after these past few years with tenants is disquieting, and Alison seems to pick up on my subdued tone.

“Would you miss me?” Her eyes look into mine without their usual sparkle.

“Yes, I'm pretty sure I would, Angel.” I surprised myself with my openness. Usually, in a situation like this, I'd make some stupid wise-crack instead of straightforward honestly. She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand with hers.

“I'd miss you too, Mr. P.” There is no mention of our arrangement. I wonder how much of what we'd be missing is the raw sex, and how much is sharing meals like this and our quiet evenings together.

It isn't until we are putting away the dishes that Alison asks me the question I've been mulling on and off all day.

“Remember what we were talking about this morning, Mr. P?” She asks as she neatly folds the dish towel. How could I have possibly forgotten? I nod slowly, and suddenly this doesn't seem so hard.

“I think I'd like to see what might happen with a student who has a crush on me...”

“I love it, Mr. P.” Alison seems relieved that I'm not going to put up a fight over this. “So, is this love-struck student really hot?” I considered the possibilities quietly and then shake my head slowly.

“No, I think she's more of nerd than a beauty.” As I speak I become more and more certain, “You know, a little awkward with her glasses and stack of schoolbooks...” It's odd, because I've never really had this particular fantasy before but now that I've said it, I realize that this is exactly what I want from Alison.

“I got you, Mr. P.” Alison seems excited by my choice, “are we done here? I've got some work to do for tomorrow.” I sent her off with a smile, wondering what her mischievous grin is all about as she all but skips up the steps.