The Pursuit of Happiness

The door clicked softly behind Joey as he stepped into Eliza's bedroom. Well, his bedroom now, apparently. The thought alone made his skin prickle. The room didn’t feel like his, not even a little. The walls still held Eliza’s framed ribbons from her childhood, proof of academic victories from God knows when. An oil painting hung on another wall, one that had an air of amateurishness. The faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air, floral with a sharp undertone, like fresh-cut flowers left too long in a vase.

Eliza led him by the hand, her fingers warm against his, guiding him like he was a guest in his own space. His heart thudded hard enough to feel in his throat, and her touch—light as it was—burned more than it should’ve. She sat him on the edge of the bed, her grip gentle but firm, like she had done this a hundred times before. She hadn’t, of course. Not with him.

She stayed standing, her posture easy but deliberate, her body angled just enough to make him notice the subtle curve of her waist, the way her pale blue blouse pulled slightly at the buttons.

"This was my bedroom," she said softly, her voice smooth as silk, like it was just a fact, not something that should’ve mattered. But it did.

She didn’t sit beside him. Instead, she stood there, close enough that he could feel the faint warmth radiating from her skin. His mouth went dry.

"I’m going to need your help," she continued, her tone light, almost playful, but with an undercurrent of something heavier. "Tomorrow, I'm going to wake up and will have to go to school, but I don't own any work clothes. Tonight, I'm going to want to go to sleep, but I don't own anything to wear to bed. And right now…"

Her fingers moved to the buttons of her blouse. She undid them slowly, one by one, as if each click of the button slipping free was part of some lesson he didn’t understand yet. He couldn’t look away. His face burned, but his eyes stayed locked on her hands, then the smooth skin revealed beneath.

“…I want to put on something more casual, more relaxing, but...” she said, trailing off, as if she expected something from Joey, some sort of response. She stood there in open blouse, her lacy bra locking his eyes to her chest, her skin glowing faintly in the warm light from the bedside lamp.

Joey swallowed hard, his brain scrambling for words that made sense.

"You don't own anything like that?" he managed, his voice tighter than he intended.

"Exactly," Eliza said, dropping the blouse to the floor, standing in front of him in her lacy bra, "Now, do you think you could help me slip into something more comfortable?"

Once again, Joey found himself in a brand new world. He was frozen. Not in anxiety, not in fear, not even in arousal, despite the fact that he felt a good dose of all those things. The thing that held Joey in place was utter bewilderment. His hormones were still raging thanks to his lunchtime encounter with Madison, but what he was experiencing, what he was seeing, was more than overwhelming, it was mind-boggling.

His inaction did not go unnoticed. The corners of Eliza's lips turned down and a slight crease appeared in her forehead. Only for a moment, a brief crack in the veneer of the pristine image she was portraying. Immediately the look of meek playfulness returned, and her fingers crept around to the back of her skirt. Joey heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down.

The sound shook Joey from his reverie and he climbed to his feet. It didn't matter how aroused he was, what was happening was wrong! He had done something to his teacher, changed her mind without her consent, and now she was putting on a strip tease show for him! As quickly as he could, not knowing where the right clothes would be, Joey scrambled to the dresser, threw a drawer open, grabbed the first thing he could find, a thing he thought was a dress of some kind, and tossed it to her.

"Here," he said, "How about this?"

The grin on Eliza's face grew as she caught the item, a look of satisfaction. Unfolding it, that satisfaction turned to surprise. In her hands she held a black silk nightie, lace bra cups, with spaghetti straps.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Oh sweetie," Eliza said, reaching behind her to unfasten her bra, exposing Joey to her breasts for the first time, "You obviously have good taste. This was a gift from a... friend... that I haven't worn in a while. I wonder if it still fits."

At the sight of his teacher's breasts, Joey lost all sense of propriety. His pants began to feel tight as a straining erection formed, his appendage demanding attention, summoned by the siren call of Eliza's chest.

The bra joined the rest of the clothes on the floor. Then she slipped the nightie over her head, allowing it to settle on her body. It was short enough below that her legs were bare. The neckline, too, was short, giving a deep and luscious show of Eliza's cleavage. She looked beautiful, her red hair contrasting against her pale, exposed skin. Her thin waist, her sizable breasts, all on display for a classroom of one: Joey.

He felt special. He felt horny.

"It's perfect," Eliza purred, "Thank-you for letting me use it. Now, shall we pick out tomorrow's outfits?"

"Wait," Joey said, trying to take his mind off of his raging erection, trying to resist the urge to reach down and touch himself, "I don't... I mean... what are we doing? What is all this?"

"I don't understand," she seemed genuinely confused.

"This business about your apartment and your clothes and stuff," Joey said, words flowing quickly now, "What are you trying to do? Don't you still want your things?"

"Joey, you are so smart!" she cooed, walking up to him in a non-teacherly way, her left hand taking his right hand in its soft grip, "It’s not about the things," she said quietly. "It’s about you. You need to understand that your life has impact. That you matter."

"And you think that if I own all your things, I'll have impact?"

"I think that if you don't take care of me, I'll end up naked and homeless," she was so close that Joey could feel the heat of her breath against his face, "which I think is an impact you can handle."

"You can't possibly be happy about this," Joey said, the words coming more freely now, despite the cloud of horniness he was floating in, "about your student being in charge of so much of your life, your wellbeing."

A flash of melancholy appeared on her face, only for a few moments, as if she was processing something sad and serious. Then it was gone, replaced with a stoic look, serious and determined.

"Happy has nothing to do with it," she said after a moment, "This is my job, Joey, and I intend to do it well. A teacher doesn't work hard because it makes her happy, she works hard because it's good for her student."

"So you're not, then? Not happy?"

"Not exactly," she admitted, "I'm surprised about how my life has turned out, how my future has changed so dramatically, but happy wouldn't be the word, no."

The words hit harder than he expected.

She wasn't happy.

There he was, standing face to face with an incredibly beautiful woman, a woman he'd lusted after for months, and despite the allure of her state of dress, despite the painfully huge erection he was sporting, all Joey could think about was his guilt.

He had made Eliza unhappy.

It was one thing to use his power to try to improve things, or even screw things up by accident, but to take someone's future away from them, to turn them into an unhappy person, doomed to follow the motions, pretending that they were okay for the sake of the other person, that had the possibility of sinking Joey in his own shame.

She was doing all of this for him. Giving up her space, her life, pretending like it didn’t bother her. But it did. He could see it now, in the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes anymore.

And then it occurred to him. Joey had exactly the right tool for this. He could explain her into happiness. Fixing it. Fixing her. He could do it. Just one explanation, one little shift in her thoughts, and she’d be fine. She’d be happy.

But would that really fix it? Or would it just be another lie? And what should he say?

Joey sat back down on the bed, staring at the floor, his chest heavy with something he couldn’t name.

"I didn’t ask for this," he muttered.

"I know," Eliza replied softly, kneeling down in front of him. Her hands rested on his thighs, a simple touch that somehow made everything feel more complicated, "But sometimes, the things we don’t ask for are the ones that matter most."

Joey didn’t know what to say to that. His mind was scrambling, trying to come up with the best thing to explain to Eliza in order to at least help her have a happy life. So he just sat there, feeling the weight of everything he’d been given, worrying about what his next step should be, when Eliza's hands began to slide up toward his groin.

"Maybe for now you can forget about my happiness," she said softly, "I can see that my outfit has at least made a part of you happy. Let's focus on that. Why don't you spread your legs a little and I can get to work helping you become a man."