Teacher's Lesson

Marianne Henfel, a rather ordinary young woman, sits alone despite a room full of other chatter and attentive eyes. Her mind is elsewhere. It isn't on the lesson, or even on the boy sitting nearby nudging her with the eraser tip of his pencil. It's instead on the new teacher specifically, as well as contention on certain thoughts which have been bothering her for quite some time. That is, until her mind snaps back to reality, and she turns her amber gaze to the gentleman trying desperately to get her attention.

"Oh... Huh?" she asks quietly. While other students to tend to mingle when they shouldn't, she would rather not be scolded. "Sorry."

He gestures downwards with the same pencil tip. "Don't mean to bug you, but I dropped my water bottle and it rolled between your feet."

"Ah. Sorry." She reaches down to puck the empty plastic bottle up from the floor. She hands it over to him bashfully, still a bit embarrassed by her distraction, even if he didn't know why that was. That being said, he likely felt similar. When the new teacher first entered the room, everyone was silent. The boy had to pick his jaw up off the floor.

College can be difficult, and struggling to focus doesn't make it any easier.

There she is--Ms. Adeline Chevalier. Even her name is cooler than mine, Mari thinks to herself. She has silken black hair with a beautiful sheen cleanliness and health, and a thick volume with a softness she could only imagine. Her raven locks roll down to curl past her shoulders, which are of course are bare. Do they have to be? That's one of my many weaknesses.

Perhaps one could say her dress is inappropriate given her occupation as a college professor, though such attire on anybody else wouldn't be the same. It's her beauty--her overwhelming confidence--that draws everybody's eyes. The dress is deep crimson and starts just below her shoulders, where it crosses over her bust just low enough for her huge, perky breasts to present an overwhelmingly distracting view of her cleavage. It fits her form so tight as it curves down her figure and over her hips that she may as well be wearing nothing at all. Ohh, I can't think about that right now. That's only gonna make it harder.

Mari can't help but feel that in comparison, she barely exists at all. Her own brown hair just tied back into a simple ponytail. And while her friends have said she's cute, she can't help but feel doubtful at times. Today she felt bold enough to wear something new at least. Apart from her usual jeans, she wears a poofy white blouse with buttons down the front, which is decorated by a collage of beautiful flowers.

It's all so frustrating. Poor Mari hasn't exactly come to terms with who she is as a woman. Life is complicated, but her attraction such as this makes her even more confused. It isn't as if she's never been in a relationship before, but the couple she's had didn't go well, and they've only been with boys. It hasn't helped her issues with her own self image.

And I'm so pasty too. Ms. Chevalier meanwhile has skin lightly kissed by the sun. Her tan is so even, which only tantalizes the imagination on how she may achieve such a thing. Perhaps she lays out in the sun with nothing on at all.

The dress ends past her knees, though it's cut up one side nearly to her hip. And on her feet, dark heels.

She doesn't even look much older than me. How can there be such a difference?

"Now. Please, class. Take a deep breath. Focus. I know some professors here are rather... hands-off. But I've made these worksheets to help you." Her voice is smooth. Whether she means it or not, her tone is like fingernails being run down the back of one's neck. "If you need help, let me know."

A few guy not far from Mari snicker and one whispers to the other. "She can help me, if you know what I mean." The two cackle under their breath.

Mari looks down at the paper and taps the end of her pencil down against the corner long enough to leave a mark. These stupid equations are still so hard for me, but I gotta learn. I just need to focus. Focus.

Her mind enters a state of such incredible focus that she can hardly tell the movement of time. The clock ticks forward, as does her pencil against her sheet. Thinking. Thinking. Suddenly, her attention is taken just as much is her breath at the sudden captivating scent of flowers and citrus. Her eyes turn up, and fear strikes down through her spine. It's the new teacher, and she's standing right over her desk with her beautiful sapphire gaze staring down upon her. She has perfect lashes, and her lips are only lightly painted. She has such natural beauty that her cosmetics are minimal.

"I--"

"Here. Let me help," says Ms. Chevalier. The way she says it--so warm, so inviting. It's as if everything is going to be all right. Slowly, she bends down to hover over the sheet of paper, though that doesn't bode well for Mari's attention.

Marianne is but a mortal. Her eyes stare straight forwards at the two bouncing melons directly in her line of sight. They're so perfect--smooth, firm, squeezed just enough by her dress to pronounce them forwards. They jiggle every so slightly as she readjusts in place. Is she even wearing a bra? is all Mari can think. She swallows hard, but she knows her face must be a bright shade of red.

"Right here," the professor continues. "You were so close on the first one, but you have to remember that the root is irrational, it's called a radical. This here--"

She does continue, but Mari struggles to hear it. Her nostrils flare as she takes a deep breath inward. "I... I see. Thank you."

"Of course," she whispers back. "I'm here to help."

After she walks away, Mari sighs quietly and attempts to cool down. For once, her unintentional ability to blend into the background works to her advantage. Nobody seems to notice just how worked up she got. People were too busy having the same reaction. Their eyes were on Ms. Chevalier, not her, after all.