What I Go To School For.

The scratch of pen nibs against paper clashed with the perpetual ’tick’ of the clock within the silenced room. I listened their mechanical gasps for air, and as my eyes scoped the room I could see their veins escaping through the coating of skin as their fingers clenched biros to complete the trail of thoughts onto the paper.

My attention turned to the front of the class, to the desk laden with English papers, essays and the occasional book. I could see him rocking the back two legs of his chair, coffee cup placed in his hand, being raised to his ripe lips every so often like clockwork. My eyes loitered on the outline of his face, the curve of his smirk as he stared glass eyed out at the classes bowed heads. I could see his Adam’s apple vanish into the depth of his throat, and out again as the coffee washed down the passage of his gullet.

I turned my concentration to the paper left on my desk. Majority of the ink staining the sheet was down the margin, a fraction of it was actually on the designated lines for writing my essay. I felt my stomach lurch as I rapidly looked at the clock once again, paying strict attention. I hadn’t written a suitable portion of the actual work designated, and I didn’t have sufficient time to make the work barely passable.

Almost as if he had been reading my mind, Mr Bourne stood up behind his desk, yawning and his arms raised above his head as he stretched his aching muscles. As he rose his limbs the bottom of his shirt slipped out from underneath his belt buckle, leaving the lower part of his abdomen exposed, each muscle contracting underneath the skin. I stared at the uncovered flesh in awe, unable to concentrate on anything but the tiny slice of heaven in front of me.

“Right, okay guys. Time’s up. Put your pens down.” His voice rang throughout the classroom in a sense identical to the school bell, followed by a chorus of forgiving sighs, and a ripple of chatter emitted into the confinement between the four surrounding walls. All of the activated commotion went oblivious to my senses as all I was aware of was the echo of his voice in my head, a constant repeat of how he pronounced every word, every syllable and every letter.

As he walked around the classroom collecting the textbooks, his voice was still captured in my ear drum and I kept him in the centre of my eye line, storing every little quirk of his day-to-day actions to my long term memory. He appeared in front of me, flashed his ‘school boy’ smile at me, before crouching down in front of my desk, maintaining our eye contact as he did so.

From the position he was in, his shirt blustered away from what laid underneath, and the first three buttons on his shirt were undone, leaving a gaping space between the two ends of the white material. Craning my head slightly, and breaking his eye contact, I could see the defined curves of his muscles and the silky soft touch of his skin. I felt my heartbeat speed up to a more rapid pace as I took in what was in front of me. I longed to place my hand on his warm skin, feel his warmth gush into my body, into my bloodstream to slowly work its way around my whole body.

He coughed slightly, causing my eyes to shoot back up to an appropriate level, and I could feel the warmth flood my cheeks. He trapped my eye once again, and raised a knowing eyebrow at me before rising with the pen I had previously been writing with in his grasp. Obviously, in my confounded state, I had let the pen slip from my grapple, leaving it to roll to the front of the desk. I mumbled a thank you, my head hung low and my hair swung like a curtain to hide my flushed cheeks from him.

I watched him through my tresses defence as his defined hands reached for my work, turning the single sheet of paper to face him. His bony fingers traced the illustrations in the margin, stopping when he reached a single heart, with familiar initials scrawled in its centre. He looked at my hidden face, before softly muttering my name a device to gain my attention.

“I think you better see me after class. This amount of work for a model student like you isn’t enough.” He murmured quiet enough so it was only me who heard him, and then returned to the chore of collecting the rest of the classes work, announcing that for the last twenty minutes he had found a suitable video on the topic we were studying. I left the paper in the position he left it, staring at the initials in the sign of affection, a lump in my throat as I half-hoped-half-dreaded him working the connection back to his own name.

As the video played, the thirty two other pupils paid their attention to the flashing images and moving footage like intended, yet my eyes digressed to the corner of the room where he was sat. His eyes also fixated to the front, blonde flicks falling like waterfalls into the cerulean pool of his eyes. The partial light in the darkened room emphasised his features, the shaping of his lips - each peak and each fall, the gradient of his nose, and underlined every single lash along his eyelid.

* *

I stayed fixated in my seat as the rest of the class swarmed through the classroom door being held by his toned arm, and he was smiling down at the group as they passed him. Once the last student had exceeded through the door, he closed it gently letting the ‘click’ of the handle mechanism ring out. He began straightening up the pages on his desk, rearranging the products ever so slightly before turning his attention towards me.

He repeated my name, taking even paced footsteps towards my desk, his eyes relentlessly in line with mine, unfazed and in control. Still holding my stare, he slid onto my desk, placing his legs with careful detail around my chair. He bent over, resting his chin in a single hand so that our faces were level.

“Now, I think you know why you’re here…” Unable to speak, I merely just nodded. My eyes ransacked his skin as it was the first time it had been barely a foot away from me, close enough to touch, close enough to feel the features that had drawn me in after all these months. He picked up my worksheet, turned it to face me and I prepared for the lecture of how a top student like myself shouldn’t be incapable of finishing one measly essay in the designated time. I looked to where his slender finger was pointing - down the margin towards the carefully crafted heart.

His face was barely an inch away from mine, I could feel his breath itching against my skin as he took in deep breaths from the confined space between our arched heads. The nerves began to flutter their wings in the pit of my stomach as his profound blue eyes scrutinised my expression in the limited light. I pursed my lips and lowered my eyes, just waiting for him to speak. Waiting for him to say how disappointed in me he is for wasting the lesson, and how I’ve let not only myself down, but him as well.

He moved his head even closer to mine, leaning towards my left ear. I could feel his lips brush against my lobe as he parted them to speak. He paused, only letting out a small child-like giggle as the butterflies in my stomach flittered into nothing, leaving an opportunity for tension to slither in, and curl up on the lining of my stomach.

“You’re,” he paused once again, puckering his lips against my skin as his hand glided across my thigh and slipping under the rim of my skirt, his fingertips sending an electric impulse throughout my body. “What I go to school for.”

My whole body seemed to radiate with the ever-increasing body heat between us as he ran his hand down my thigh, and his orifice left a treasure trail of tiny kisses along my neck, whilst his other hand was loosening the knot of my school tie. His mouth led away from my neck, moving to my awaited lips.

I could taste stale coffee on his tongue as his saliva contaminated mine, and the smell of his shampoo stung my nostrils. The blood flow pulsated in my bottom lip at the feel of the tip of his tongue caress the pinnacle, leaving a trail of sensation as it glided across. My lips stung for him to finally enter the cave of my mouth, and almost as if our connection let him into my thoughts, his tongue meandered my mouth, dominative as if it belonged there.

As he pulled me closer to his body, hands fumbling to pull me up onto his lap, I could hear his heartbeat louder than ever as it entwined with mine, every beat in sync. I wrapped my legs around his waist, securing my position as I teased him, allowing my fingers to tip-toe down his spine, and along the waistband of his trousers.

“That uniform you’re wearing… so hot I can’t stop staring.” His mouth was back against my ear as he spoke in hushed tones, deep breaths between every other word as one of his hands ran through my golden locks, and the other hand was slipping the loose tie from around my neck, making their way towards the procession of buttons along my shirt.

I began doing the same to him, brushing the tips of my fingers along his collar bone, down to bare flesh, pushing his cotton shirt over his biceps, down his forearm and dropping it on the floor as it if was the most natural thing to do. He ran his lips down my neck, suckling against certain parts of my flesh, causing my knees to buckle and my heart stop for a millisecond.

His hands slid down my ribcage, down my hips as I slipped out of my school shirt, leaving it a crumpled mess beside his. I could feel him beneath me pulsating as we moved to our own beat. He skimmed his hand around my thighs, pulling our entangled bodies into the air, over to his main teaching podium at the front of the room.

He flung me onto the desk with little grace, sweeping his arms through the piles filling the desk, reminding me of some Hollywood movie, causing me to let out a tiny giggle that he silenced once more with his lips. He straddled my level figure, taking control once again as his hand slid up to the top lining of my tights, pulling them free from my legs with ease, his mouth moving further and further down my stomach. I sat up, lifting up his head to my awaiting lips and as we kissed I slid my hand down the front of his trousers, causing him to moan into my mouth.

“Mr Bourne…” a female voice filled the room, leaving me suddenly aware of the rattle of the door handle and the expanding strip of light from the fracture between the door and its frame. He retracted his fingers off my bare skin, taking the stimulating spark we shared with them and all I could feel were smears of his fingerprints along my collar bone, trickling down my stomach and coming to an abrupt halt at my hip bone.

I heard a thud as his body collided with the wooden school desk with a force. I stared up at his guilt stricken face, the eyes that were once leering at me with fiery ardour and lust were fixated to the front of the classroom, frightening me slightly as their blue shading were almost grey and oozed guilt and remorse. I turned to face where his gaze was captured, feeling the same remorse as my partner in crime as Miss Mackenzie caught my eye. Her expression was a mix of awe, disgust and somewhat envy as she took in the scene before her.

Busted.