My Teacher, Miss Muller
My English teacher takes me to her home . . .Miss Muller’s hand lightly rubbed my thigh. It was down toward my knee, but still, it was a female teacher in contact with her sixteen-year old male student. I’m sure I tensed and she stopped. It was pre-COVID January, 2020, and we were in The Old Spaghetti Factory – me and Miss Muller and three cheerleaders. I wrote sports for the school paper. Miss Muller taught English and managed the cheerleading squad. The cheerleade...