Taming The Teacher

"Sure, let's go," you agree.

She smiles and turns on the car. You drive for a few more minutes, talking and joking around more loosely than before. Eventually, she turns into the parking lot of a modest-sized apartment complex. You get out and follow her inside one of the buildings and through the door labeled 4E.

Ms. Grave's place is very tidy and smells sweet. You take a seat on the sofa and look around. She has decorated the walls with various band and movie posters. You have to admit that she has pretty good taste for a teacher.

"Do you want a drink?" she calls from the kitchen.

"Yeah, okay," you answer. "Water's fine."

She returns, hands you a bottle of water and sits beside you. She has changed into a tight-fitting gray top that shows an impressive amount of cleavage and a pair of tight and thin yoga pants: the same kind that the girls' volleyball team at school wore. She looks amazing.

"So, what do you want to do John?" she asks.