Milo was nineteen years old and just starting his second semester at the university. The first semester had gone pretty well, three A’s and two B’s, so by his standards the freshman was off to a good start. He’d been a very average, bored and unmotivated student in high school, but the college experience had so far been challenging and enlightening, maybe even intimidating, but had evoked from him an ability to study and focus on schoolwork that he’d never known before.

It was the first day of classes and this was Milo’s last class of the day. He was in Whitman Hall looking for room 222. This is where he would be taking English Composition…ENGL 101 in the course catalog…for the next three and a half months. This was a required course--every student, regardless of their curriculum, had to pass it-- and since writing was one of his strengths he hoped to earn an A.

He found the classroom and took a seat near the back. The room had five rows of six student desks and by the time class was supposed to begin all but four or five were taken. Right on time at three p.m. the instructor strode through the door and plopped her satchel on the teacher’s desk at the front of the room. Their teacher was an attractive woman of medium height. She had blond shoulder-length hair, layered and parted in the middle. Her body was slim and tapered and well-shaped from top to bottom. She wore a snug, short-sleeved black top that showed off her toned arms and firm breasts, and a cream skirt that did the same favor for her legs.

Alright! Milo thought, some eye candy. No matter how boring or tedious this class would turn out to be, at least he’d have something nice to look at.

The teacher introduced herself and gave them a little background. Her name was Teresa; she had an M.F.A. When she was in grad school she’d married and had a child and took time off. When her daughter was old enough to go to school she had re-enrolled at the university, acquired her master's degree and was now working on her doctorate. She taught two classes: this one, English Composition, and another intermediate writing course.

“I know you are all here because you have to be,” Teresa said. “It’s a course required of all students. Some of you may like to write, some of you may not, some of you may even despise it. But our goal this semester will be to make everyone in this class a better writer, and hopefully we will have some fun along the way.”

Teresa then passed out the syllabuses and reviewed the course requirements with the class. There would be six writing assignments, a final and a student/teacher conference about two-thirds of the way through the semester. Attendance would be taken and is mandatory and blah, blah, blah.

Milo was only half-listening because he was using his eyes more than his ears. He was staring at his teacher, and taking her in. He loved her pretty face, the soft cadence of her voice with its hint of a Southern drawl, and she had the look that he had always been attracted to: slim, blond hair, blue eyes. Milo was good-looking but was no Casanova by any means; in fact, he was usually kind of shy, but he knew if she’d been a student he would find a way to get close.

This was his teacher but he found himself staring at her glossy lips as she spoke, and at her breasts sticking straight out, at her legs, at her butt when she’d pivot every now and then as she walked back and forth. And at the wedding ring on her left hand, he couldn’t ignore that.

As he was leaving the classroom that first day, Milo was enthused about the course and its instructor, and it didn’t hurt when he caught Teresa’s eye and she gave him a little smile on his way out. He already knew he was going to ace the course and his attendance would be 100%.

----

The semester moved along quickly and the composition class was by far Milo’s favorite. He found the assignments very easy, and of course he was motivated to please his teacher. The papers were short, two or three double-spaced pages, and were very basic: a narrative essay, a descriptive essay, review a short story, a persuasive paper on a debate topic. He received A’s on every one and when the class would read and critique some of the papers - after grading each assignment, Teresa would photocopy four or five anonymous student papers and pass them out - his work was usually one of the papers chosen. One time the class were discussing one of his papers and the students were saying, ‘I think she meant this, or she meant that’, and Teresa finally asked them why they thought a female had written it. Someone interpreted a passage that was especially sympathetic to women. Teresa then looked straight at Milo and asked what he had meant. Milo said nothing and just stared at the wall until she moved on.

It was obvious that Teresa appreciated Milo’s work, but he liked coming to class just to be around her. He was always anxious to see how she dressed. Sometimes she would wear a casual dress and he’d be checking out her legs for fifty minutes. On Fridays, she wore jeans, wrapped tight around her sweet ass and crotch, and he tried not to stare or think about what it would be like to peel them off. About halfway through the semester, she showed up to class with a new perm, her blond hair in a wild, frizzy mess. A sexy, irresistible wild frizzy mess. Milo would reach down below his desktop and touch himself sometimes; that was one of those times.

After a couple months, it was time for the class members to have their one-on-one conferences with the teacher. Teresa had a sign-up sheet for the students to choose a time that suited their schedule. Milo picked a time at the very end of one of the days. He thought if he met her at the end of the day, he might get a little more than the allotted time.

Milo roamed around the building where the English Department was located until he found Teresa’s office. It was on the second floor at the end of the long hallway. Her name was one of two on the door along with a note saying a meeting was in session and to please have a seat. He was a couple minutes early, so he sat on a blue metal folding chair beside the door.

Soon the door opened and out came Ginger, one of the students who had thought his paper had been written by a girl. She said hello and walked toward the stairs. Teresa poked her head out of the door.

“Hello, Milo,” she said, “Come on in.”

He followed her into what was a tiny cubbyhole of an office, barely large enough for two desks and a couple chairs. He watched her as she walked around to the other side of the desk. She wore a pair of satiny black slacks and he could see a slight trace of her butt crack before she turned around and took her seat behind the desk. Her blond curls rested haphazardly on the shoulders of her red blouse. He noticed that she was wearing a thin gold chain around her neck and the top two buttons of her blouse were unhooked and he stole a look. He fantasized that they were unbuttoned for him. He could smell her slight lemony scent, it made him want to take a bite. He sat down across from her and waited with butterflies in his stomach. Teresa rummaged through her satchel and put Milo’s file on the desk and opened it.

“So Milo,” she said. “What do you think of the course so far?”

“I like it,” he said.

“You like it. Is that all? Would you care to expound on that statement?”

“I like your hair, too, since you kinked it up.” He gave her his innocent smile.

Teresa’s lips curled into a wide grin. “Thank you,” she said. “But I meant to expound on what you think about the course.”

“I know, sorry. The class is about what I expected it to be. It’s a basic writing course so I expected I would like it. I’ve always liked to read and write and even though I’m not that good of a student I’ve always done well in classes where I had to write papers.”

“You’re doing very well in my class, as you know. Why do you think you are not a good student?”

“Well, I should say that I never was a very good student through high school. I was just never that interested, I guess. But college is so diverse and has been much more challenging so far and I’m more motivated. Your class has definitely been a plus in that department.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Milo. Because you are a very talented writer and you should be motivated. I’ve taught this course for several years and I can tell you that it can be a difficult chore getting through all the papers I have to read. But it is a joy when I get to read one of yours. You definitely have a style of your own and a way with words.”

“Thank you,” Milo said. He was suddenly nervous and it was all he could think of to say.

For the next few minutes, they went over his work and discussed each paper and Teresa told him what he could expect for the rest of the semester and the final.

“I noticed that you have not declared a major,” Teresa said as they were wrapping things up.

“No, I haven’t, I’ve been getting a lot the requirements out of the way, but I’ll need to decide soon. I’m leaning toward English.”

“That’s good. There are many great courses once you get into the curriculum. And if you like reading and writing, you’ll get plenty of that! There are seminars and writing groups and we all help each other. Who knows, maybe you’ll be teaching this course someday!”

Milo was walking on air when he left the meeting. Teresa’s face and her pool-blue eyes, framed by her foxy blond frizz, were etched in his mind. Her subtle scent intoxicated him. He knew he would go to the administration building the next day and declare his major. He was smitten.

----

The next few times Milo saw Teresa in class, he could sense a new level of awareness between them. She would give him little smiles here and there and their eye contact was more frequent and would sometimes linger. Then he went to class one Wednesday afternoon and Teresa was missing. There was a substitute teacher, an Einstein-looking dude with wild hair and a wrinkled white shirt and tie. He explained that Teresa would be out for a while and he would be filling in.

After class, Milo approached the teacher and asked him if he knew how long Teresa would be out. The teacher told him he didn’t know but that she had had an appendicitis attack the day before and was in the University Hospital.

Milo went to a store and bought a generic get-well card, wrote a brief note and signed it. He drove to the hospital and parked his car far away in the visitor lot. He checked with the information desk and then found her room; her name was displayed on the wall. He tapped on the door and looked in. It was a double room but there was no bed in the space closest to the door. The bed by the window was occupied. He tentatively walked into the room.

The TV on the wall was showing cable news but the sound was muted. Teresa was propped up in the bed reading a book. He stood there for a moment before she realized he was there and looked up. A smile came to her face and she put down her book.

“Milo! What a surprise!” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by,” he said with a shy grin.

“Just happened to be in the neighborhood, huh? Do you make a habit of hanging around hospitals and dropping in on patients?” She gave him a wink.

“I’m kidding. I came to see you. The substitute teacher told me what happened. I hope you don’t mind my coming to see you.”

“No, not at all, Milo. I’m flattered that you came. It’s unexpected and unnecessary but very thoughtful.”

“I brought you a get-well card,” he said, and handed it to her.

She thanked him and opened it. The card was a basic Hallmark, but then she read aloud what Milo had written:

‘To a great Teacher. Get well soon and hurry back. This English major needs all the help he can get! Milo’.

“Oh, this is so sweet, Milo,” she said. “And I’m glad to hear you’ve decided to major in English. I think it’s the right place for you.”

“So do I,” he said. After a pause, he asked how long she would be in the hospital.

“A couple more days anyway, they want to make sure there are no complications. But I won’t be coming back to teach right away, I’m afraid. Semester is almost over and with being out for a few days I need to concentrate on finishing my own studies. But I’ll help you any way I can.”

“Will you still be teaching?”

“Yes, next semester I’ll be back at it. I will teach another section of English Comp and one intermediate writing class.”

“I’ll have to sign up for your intermediate class,” he said.

“That would be good. It’s much more challenging but I think you’ll like it.”

They were interrupted when an attractive woman with short brown hair entered the room.

“How you feelin’, Darlin’?” she said.

“Hi, Mel,” Teresa said. “Thanks for coming again. Mel, meet Milo; Milo, this is my older sister Melanie.” They said hello and shook hands.

“Well, I better be going,” Milo said. “Hope you feel a lot better soon and they let you out of here. Nice to meet you, Melanie.”

“Thank you so much for coming, Milo. It was very thoughtful of you,” Teresa said. After a quick goodbye, Milo was gone.

“Who was that?” Melanie asked as soon as he was out the door.

“One of my students.” Teresa handed her the card he’d given her.

“My God, he’s an Adonis!” Melanie read the card. “Huh. And it looks like he’s hot for teacher.” She handed the card back. “You two got something going?”

“Of course not. He’s only nineteen.”

“Nineteen with a crush on his teacher.”

“He’s a very talented writer. And he just became an English Major.”

“Well, sometimes students get involved with their teachers, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Uh-huh.”

----

Milo finished out the semester and he got his A in English Comp. He stayed at his apartment near campus over the summer rather than going home to his parents’ because he’d gotten a summer job at a busy warehouse in a nearby industrial park. He worked the night shift, 11:00 pm to 7:00 am, because it paid more than days and he needed to save his money. His work week started at 11 p.m. Sunday night and ended at 7:00 Friday morning. It always tickled him when he’d be leaving work on Friday morning, looking for beer and ready for happy hour, and he’d pass other drivers swerving down the road, barely awake and sipping 7-Eleven coffee.

Over the summer he dabbled with several of his female co-workers, some fraternization, some partying, some sex, but Teresa was never far from his mind. He thought of her often and even went to campus and hung around the English Department a few times hoping to bump into her. It didn’t happen.

As summer neared its end he looked forward to going back to school. As a new English major he met with an adviser to help him map out his plan. He checked the course catalog and looked for the intermediate writing class first; he was going to schedule everything else around that. There were several sections and he found out that Teresa’s class would be held Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays at one p.m. and registered for it.

The first class was on a Friday and Milo took a seat in the back. There were about twenty students in the class. Teresa entered the room and placed her familiar satchel on the desk. She wrote her name on the board, introduced herself and started describing the course. Milo thought she looked like a model. Her long, lean body was dressed in black. Black jeans wrapped around her legs and butt, a thin black top accentuated her horizontal tits and work-out arms, and her charcoal sandals sported polished toenails. Her blond hair was still in a frizz but longer, several inches down her back and a gold chain hung from her neck and sparkled in front of her black shirt. And that damn ring on her left hand.

Teresa gave the class the lowdown on the course requirements and described the goals and assignments and Milo stared at her the whole time. As she spoke she made an effort to look around the room and make eye contact with all of the pupils, and several times when she glanced at Milo he was looking into her eyes and smiling at her. Milo detected subtle smiles from Teresa, too, a couple times before she looked away.

Milo wanted to talk to Teresa after the class just to say hello but she was immediately surrounded by three other students, so he didn’t hang around. He headed to the bookstore to buy his texts.

----

The first assignment was an essay describing something that you had witnessed in person--an event or special occasion that had left a lasting impression on you. Teresa said to be vivid and descriptive and to convince the reader what it was like to be there and how it affected you personally.

The idea didn’t excite Milo all that much but it was simple enough that he could plow through. And he did. He wrote about an episode he’d watched when he was nine years old. He and his mother and sister were at the community swimming pool. He saw a kid of five or six gradually drift into the deep end. The little boy started flailing around, his arms and legs slapping up and down in the water, kicking, splashing, struggling to stay afloat. At first, people paid no mind, figuring the child was goofing off, but suddenly when his cries were half-muted by pool water a teen-aged girl realized that he was drowning and dove in and brought the little boy to safety. Milo wrote about it in detail and it was graded a B. Teresa’s critique noted that it was ‘well-written but didn’t quite convey the profound effect it had had on you. Passion!'

The second assignment didn’t turn him on much either, at least not at first. It was to be a biographical essay; write a biography of a real person whom you admire. Milo kicked the idea around in his head for a day or so. He figured most students would pick a well-known figure from history or politics or sports or whatever and then dig up the information and paraphrase whatever they found on-line or in Encyclopedia Britannica. But he had a better idea. He would dig around and find out all he could about Teresa. And he would write about her. She wanted passion and she would get it.

----

Finding background on Teresa was easier than expected. Milo was amazed at how much he was able to find out if he looked in the right places. He started with the English Department website which had bios of all faculty members. Social media sites were a treasure trove of information, where he got the names of her friends and family and high school, which then opened more doors to more juicy stuff. He had the names of old boyfriends, teammates on the volleyball team and clubs to which she’d belonged. He found her birth records and knew her size and weight. She was now thirty-two years old. He learned about a hidden well-placed tattoo.

He searched through the university’s newspaper archives and found a few things she’d written, articles and letters to the editor. And one other sexy tidbit: In her sophomore year, she’d won second runner-up in a wet t-shirt contest on campus. The girl who won was not nearly as attractive but she had big tits and had taken her top off and thrown it into the crowd, and then proceeded to get felt-up by eighty or ninety frat boys. Milo was glad to discover that Teresa evidently had a wild side. Teresa’s husband was a few years older than she and was a professor at a small college about thirty miles away. His name was Henry and he used to be an instructor at the university, and Teresa had been one of his students. Milo put all of the pieces together. Teresa had had an affair with him and had become pregnant and later married him. That ring on her finger was from a teacher who had fucked his student.

Or students. Milo had a couple of friends who attended the college where Henry was now professor. He called them and asked about Good Old Henry. ‘Oh yes,’ they both agreed, ‘Rumors are Henry has had improper relationships with his students. And not always with girls, either.’

Milo wrote the paper and had to edit the hell out of it. He had way too much information. He put it together in chronological order as best he could and dropped as many names as he could to blow Teresa’s mind. The first half of the paper was innocent and wholesome but he slowly built it up to the good stuff: boyfriends, wet t-shirts and her affair with her teacher and their marriage.

He suddenly felt encouraged and closer to Teresa than he’d felt before. They had something special in common. Years before, she had felt an attraction to her teacher and had acted upon it, the same kind of feelings he now had for her. She had to relate, right? And does she know that at his college thirty miles away, her husband is still at it?

Milo stopped thinking of Teresa as being just his foxy teacher. Now she was his Inamorata-to-be.

----

Milo was proud of his biographical essay. He worked hours on it, honing it, double-checking all the facts. He wrapped a slick folder around it. When he handed it in to Teresa, he told her how hard he had worked on it and he thought she would like it. ‘I look forward to reading it’, she’d said. Milo wished he could be a fly on the wall when she did. The thought made him semi-hard.

The following night Teresa sat down to read and grade the papers. She decided to read Milo’s first and was shocked as soon as she opened the cover and saw the title: ‘The Good Life of Teresa, English Teacher’. Her jaw hung open in awe as she read on.

She must have said ‘Oh my God’ to herself twenty times as she read. It was right on the money, accurate as hell, she thought. But how did he do it? Old friends, lovers, good and bad. Quotes from her high school yearbook. Her senior prom. Things she’d had published. The tattoo on her ass. And things she’d tried to forget, among them her wet t-shirt adventure, her affair with Henry and her out-of-wedlock pregnancy. She was softly crying as she finished reading it, angry and miffed and flattered and impressed all at the same time. She felt violated somehow, like Milo had driven a microscope into her soul. She read it again and realized she was sweating. She read no more papers that night.

----

In class the next week Teresa gave Milo a stern look and a shake of her head when she handed his paper back to him. He felt a brief chill before he opened the folder. There was a big A written at the top of page one. Just below it, her comments read: Well-written and accurate (too accurate!). But you could have found a better subject.

Teresa hardly looked his way throughout the whole period as the class read through and discussed several of the students’ papers. His was not chosen for review. Milo stared at her crotch and played with himself for fifty minutes. His dick was half-turgid at the end of class. He hoped she didn’t notice when he stopped to speak to her on his way out of the classroom.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” he asked timidly.

Teresa’s lips coiled into a smile. “No, I’m not mad at you, Milo. But I was surprised. I gave you an A because of the accuracy and the good writing. But I didn’t find it very interesting. I felt like I was being psychoanalyzed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You said you wanted passion so I chose a subject I’m passionate about. I’ll try to do better on the next one.” He turned to walk away.

“I gave you an A, Milo. You can’t do better than that. I’m just a little embarrassed, can you understand that?”

“Yes, I guess so. But you shouldn’t be. It’s a hell of a story. I found it mesmerizing."

Teresa laughed. “Well, I’m happy for you. But please don’t pass it around, okay? It could make things a bit awkward, you know?"

“I wouldn’t do that. It’s between us. You motivate me, what can I say?”

“Milo, do you remember my sister Melanie? You met her at the hospital.”

“Of course.”

“After you left my room that day she said she thought you had a crush on me. You don’t have a crush on me, do you, Milo?”

“A crush? Hell, I’m way past crush."

He smiled at her and gave a slight, helpless shrug. He left her with a muddled look on her face.

----

Milo was pleased when he went to the next class. He saw forced smiles instead of stern looks. And when he learned of the next assignment, he got a tingle in his crotch and couldn’t wait to get started.

The assignment was to write an essay defining an abstract word or term, a word or term that could be used and interpreted in multiple ways. Milo was excited and knew instantly what abstract term he would write about: The word LOVE.

That night he sat down and began to write and the words flowed out of him and through his fingers. It was stream-of-consciousness, automatic, effortless. Another A, he knew it.

----

Teresa had plodded through a few essays covering the terms beauty, integrity, stupidity, blackness, contentment and courage before she came to Milo’s. It was titled simply, ‘Love’. She thought it was perfect, so simple, a word we all use every day in so many ways. She was half-excited and half-afraid as she began reading.

It was well-written as usual. She was impressed by the number of interpretations and examples of usage Milo had come up with. The essay flowed easily from the very first paragraph and related how casually the word is used in daily life. People say I love your sweater, or I love your hair. A child says he loves macaroni and cheese. His sister says she loves her teen idol. The high school quarterback says he loves the hot cheerleader as he undresses her and lowers her onto the back seat of his car. And of course, in the game of tennis, the word love means nothing - a big Zero.

Then the writing segued into a more serious tone. Love in one’s family and how it can differ: Loving parents, children, siblings. The love in marriage and the love of God. It was all poignant and thought-provoking and had Teresa engrossed and on the edge of her chair. But it was the conclusion that left her again moved by this young man’s writing and trembling at the same time.

Milo had summarized that love was what anybody wanted it to be; after all, it was just a word. Love is different for everyone. Then he described what love could be. As Teresa read the conclusion, sweat broke out on her forehead and upper lip and goose pimples rose on her arms. She read:

Love could be this college student sitting in the back of the classroom, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, admiring and listening to his instructor, his mentor, a beautiful, sexy woman a few years older, fondling his cock, hard between his legs beneath the desktop. And love could be the sick, sour ache he feels in his gut because he knows that even though they would make magic together he can’t be with her because he is her student and she belongs to somebody else.

Teresa put the paper down and took a deep breath. Milo had written another strong paper worthy of an A. But was he getting dangerously close to going over the line? She knew that what she had just read was not only a very good essay nailing the assignment. It was a love letter.

She had to admit she was flattered. And Milo was attractive. There was the age difference of course but she couldn’t help but wonder how she would respond if she wasn’t married. And did he really get hard in her class? She’d have to watch closely the next time class was over and he got up to leave.

----

It was Thursday afternoon and Milo was hanging around the English Department building because he knew Teresa held office hours and he thought he might drop in, though he didn’t. But he caught a glimpse of her as she left the building and decided to follow her. At a safe distance, he watched as she walked to the bookstore and went in, so he waited a moment or two before he entered. He found her browsing in the Philosophy section. He kept an eye on her from True Crime.

After a while, she made a purchase and then walked over to the cafe next door. It was a cozy place that sold coffees and teas and beer and wine and sandwiches, and was popular with the campus intelligentsia. Milo watched as Teresa went to the counter and bought a glass of white wine and took it to a small table in the corner. She sat alone, sipped her drink and opened her new book.

Milo watched her for a few minutes as she read her book and he tried to summon the nerve to approach her table. She received a phone call and had an animated conversation for a few minutes and put a huge dent in her drink as she conversed. He bought a bottle of ale and a glass of white wine and waited until she ended her call. He took a gulp for courage and walked over to her table.

Teresa was reopening her book when Milo placed the fresh glass of wine in front of her. She was jolted at first but as soon as she looked up she smiled. She’d been thinking about him. His writing was alluring. And she couldn’t help but appreciate his slim, athletic build, his broad shoulders, his handsome face, and his subtle ways.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Milo asked, voice cracking.

“Not at all, please do.”

He sat across from her and took a nervous sip of his ale.

“So Milo, what brings you in here? Just a coincidence? Or are you following me?”

“Uh, maybe a planned coincidence.”

“I see. No ulterior motives?”

“Just trying to open your mind,” he said. “Did you read my essay?”

“I did.”

“What did you think?”

“I see another A. It was well-written and well-thought-out. Very observant. I thought the ending was a bit risque, maybe even over-the-line, but I didn’t penalize you for it.”

“You always say to write with passion and write the truth. That’s what I did.”

“I know you did, but there are limits, Milo,” she said, and took the first sip of her second glass of wine. She smiled again and said, “You should have left that last part out. Now I might have to have a mini-camera installed under your desktop.”

“It better have a wide-angle lens,” he said with a shit-eating grin.

Teresa burst out laughing and almost knocked her wineglass over. She shook with funny quivers for thirty seconds as she tried to stop laughing. Milo just grinned at her.

“Well, it’s nice to see you’re modest,” she said when she finally recomposed herself.

“Nah, I just like to hear you laugh. I “love” the sound of your laugh…although that’s one I didn’t include in my essay.”

Teresa sighed and her shoulders sagged the slightest bit. Her eyes were looking directly into his. Milo put his hand on hers. He suddenly realized that this was the first time they’d touched.

“Come to my apartment,” he said. “It’s not far from here.”

Teresa pulled her hand away. “I can’t go to your apartment, Milo. It’s inappropriate. I’m your teacher and you’re my student.”

“But you did it!”

“It was wrong.”

“So I’ll quit school.”

“You will not! Besides, I’m married.”

Milo sat back in his chair. “Yeah, you’re married to a rat who cheats on you with his students. If he can do it, why can’t you?” he said, and took a mammoth swig of beer.

Teresa’s pissed-off eyes burned into his. “What?”

“I’m sorry, Teresa, I shouldn’t have said that. That was not cool.”

“What do you know? Are you snooping around in my private life?”

“No. It’s just… When I was researching for my biographical essay about you, I found out some things. I’m sorry I told you.”

Teresa was suddenly miles away; Milo could see it in her face. This meeting was over.

“No, I’m glad you did,” she said. “But I hope you’re wrong.” She gathered up her things and rose from the table. “I have to go.”

He watched her strut out of the place with a fiery bounce in her step.

----

Milo felt bad about what he had said to Teresa so he bought a blank ‘Sorry’ greeting card and wrote her a short note.

At the next class, Teresa seemed to be all business. They spent most of the time reviewing student essays about abstract terms, including his, although Teresa had cut out the ending. When the class discussed his paper they again were saying, ‘I think she meant this, or I think she meant that’ and Teresa glanced at him a couple times. Milo figured it must have been the part about the quarterback saying he loved the cheerleader while he was trying to screw her that gave them the idea.

The last few minutes of class Teresa devoted to explaining the next assignment: A How-to essay. The purpose of the paper was to explain in detail how to do something that you enjoy or are very good at. It can be playing a sport or a musical instrument, or building a deck or tuning up your car. Be specific. Convince the reader that you are confident and know what you are doing.

When class ended, Milo didn’t linger. He handed the apology card to Teresa and smiled, but she had a sad look in her eyes. Neither said anything and he went on his way.

As Milo walked across campus he thought about the assignment and was already excited and raring to go. He knew what he was going to write, and he knew it was risky. But he would write it anyway. Even if it got him kicked out of school.

----

Milo wrote it all that same night, sitting up in bed with his laptop on a pillow on his lap. He worked on it very late into the night. By the time he nodded off at a little after three a.m. he had been writing for eight hours and his only breaks had been to get a beer, take a piss or jerk off.

He felt good when he went back to the class two days later. When he turned in his paper to Teresa, he dropped it on the desk in front of her.

“My masterpiece,” he said, and gave her a shy smirk.

----

Teresa had become quite distracted after her encounter with Milo at the cafe, partly because he had come on to her--that didn’t really bother her as much as flatter her, even though it was inappropriate--but mostly because of what he’d told her about her husband. Was Henry cheating on her? She had become suspicious and had been watching for signs. He certainly had the opportunity if he so desired. She was sitting at her desk reading papers and it was early evening but Henry wasn’t home yet.

It was with this feeling of trepidation that she opened Milo’s folder. Simply reading the title put a lump in her throat and a brick in her stomach: ZEN AND THE ART OF MAKING LOVE TO MY ENGLISH TEACHER.

“Fuck,” she said to herself.

She broke into a light sweat, anxious to read it and dreading it at the same time. She took a deep breath, turned the page and started reading.

Her name is Teresa. She liked me, I could tell, but there were problems. She was my teacher, was older, and was married with a child. But she got over that. I had made love to her in my mind a hundred times by the time we first kissed. So when it finally happened it was beautiful, natural, without hesitation. Two lovers making up for lost time.

Teresa read, and absorbed it all as if in a trance: what her breast felt like in his hand and what her tongue felt like in his mouth. And how hard he was as he helped her out of her blue and white sundress and let it fall to the floor and then all she was wearing was a red thong. She’d worn that dress to class! And the red thong! How did he know? Then she was sitting on the bed unzipping his jeans as he yanked his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside. He wore no underwear and as she pushed down his pants she saw his cock for the first time. Long and hard, cut and shaven. She closed her eyes and pictured it.

She lay back on the bed and I again kissed her mouth and her lips parted for me and sucked in my tongue. I fingered and thumbed her nipples which were already enlarged and hard as nuggets. Then I kissed her all over: her face, her hair, her ears, her shoulders. She wore her favorite gold chain and I traced my tongue along the length of it around the sides of her neck.

‘Jesus’, she thought to herself as she fondled the chain, ‘This kid doesn’t miss a trick’. The skin on her neck felt clammy to her touch.

She got up to get a glass of water and stood at the kitchen sink for a moment staring out the window at nothing. Then she sat down and resumed reading. He licked and kissed his way down her body, sucked her tits, licked her navel, kissed her legs and feet and started working his way back up. Then he described how her body responded when he slipped his tongue inside her.

Teresa’s spit sizzled through her teeth like a hot griddle and her groin bucked from side to side when I jabbed my tongue into her tasty, open twat. Her clit was swollen like a stuffed pepper, begging me to suck it. So I took it into my mouth and she sighed with delight as I tightened my jaw around it, and her fingers were in my hair pulling my head assertively into her hungry crotch.

Teresa realized she was touching herself down there and she was wet. She kept reading about how she came in his face, and then he mounted her and she grabbed his cock and fed it into her pussy herself, and he fucked her, dumping a massive load of his semen inside of her. And how they held each other for a long time, kissing, touching. He spooned her from behind with one hand on her breast and one hand on her cooch. He kissed the back of her neck and then kissed his way down her back to her ass where he ran his tongue along her crack and kissed the butterfly tattoo on her right butt. He worked his way back up her back into the spoon position and she could feel his cock hard against her ass. She turned toward him and they kissed some more and then she moved down. The paper ended when she took Milo’s cock into her mouth.

With that image in her mind, Teresa closed the folder and sat back in her chair, and her body shivered. She came, and her cum flowed out of her, soaking her panties and jeans.

----

As she was changing clothes and cleaning herself up, Teresa couldn’t help but feel like she had cheated on her husband. Even though it was all a product of Milo’s imagination, and no matter where the kid was tonight or what he was doing, he had given her an orgasm. Or at least his words had.

She called her sister and asked her if they could meet the next day for a little while. She needed to talk. Melanie could tell by the tone of Teresa’s voice that it was important, so she said of course they could. They arranged it for the following afternoon.

Just as they ended the call, her husband came in through the front door. They said their hellos and Henry gave Teresa a cursory peck on the lips.

“Work late again?” she asked.

“Yeah, doing more research,” he said tiredly.

Research, Teresa thought. He’s always doing research for some article he’s writing. Even though precious few of them ever seemed to get published.

“Ah,” she said, watching him closely. “You wouldn’t be having an affair with one of your students, would you?”

She noticed a slight hitch in his movement, and then he tried to laugh it off. He said no way, of course not, that’s crazy, who’s got time, I’m too old for that, who needs the aggravation?, and went into their bedroom to change.

But Teresa knew he was lying. She knew Henry well, and if her question had been outlandish he would have been defensive and offended and adamant and would have lashed back at her, saying how dare you ask me that. But instead, he blew her off with a lazy denial. She knew in her heart that Milo had been right.

END PART 1