Status: If there are a few people who like the first chapters, I'll start writing the next ones !
The coils of a teenage heart
PART ONE: THE PAINTING TEACHER; Chapter one
Like every Saturday, I will be going to my painting class with my grandmother. On those Saturdays I always dress remarkably; I dress punk or gothic, or very sexy. Why? One, because I won’t walk into people I don’t like and who would judge me for wearing certain things, and two, because of my painting teacher. Let’s call him Mike. He’s not very hot or sexy, but something in him attracts me to him.
So today it’s painting-day again, and I’m wearing a short dress with a deep cleavage which fits perfect and emphasizes my waist and breasts. With my high heels underneath and my hair up neatly, I am ready for what the day will bring to me. On my way to the academy I saw many guys and men stare, some made annoying comments, but that’s something I need to accept, cause I kind of am provoking them. My grandmother came to pick me up at the station and now we’re heading together to the academy. The air in the class is hot and dry again, as it always is. Guess something steamy will have to fix that… I put my easel against the window and prepare everything for today’s class.
Mike is helping someone next to me and is sitting in such a way he can look right at me. I’m thinking about the advantages that gives me and in the meanwhile I’m scanning him from tip to toes and thinking about how he would look like underneath those loose clothes. He catches me looking and smiles and says he will be right here when he’s finished helping the old, unobservant woman. Guess he didn’t notice me staring at him, or he’s hiding it. My helpless heart can’t help it but do the most cliché thing ever. I ‘accidently’ drop my painting shirt behind my table and bend over to grab it so my short dress goes up and only júst covers my ass, bending my back a bit when I get up and making my sweet little butt stick out, making it very noticeable. I am one of the most unsubtle persons so I don’t look behind me to see if he saw me, but I can feel his eyes bore into my back. Well, butt, maybe. I continue to prepare and then start already with painting. Mike gets behind me and examines the way I’m working. “You’re doing a great job, don’t you think?! Let’s have a closer look.” He sits down at my chair and I stand behind him, watching closely what he does and recommends me to do. I get a little closer to him and bend down to look at an example he made on a sheet of paper. I can smell his scent and breathe softly in his neck. His little hackles stand up, responding to the question whether he has felt it. Usually I’m not the one to take the lead, but I like risks cause it makes me excited. I bend down just a little more, my lips lightly touch Mike’s neck. I can feel his body react to that touch, but it’s not a bad reaction. His breath increases a tiny bit and he goes on with his advice. When he’s done talking he stands up and goes to help someone else, with a quick look behind and a naughty smile. I smile back and think about my victory and how it may evolve…
When he left me, I was hoping he would show me a sign to show me he was still thinking about me. With even just a little sign I’d be happy. Something like “COME OVER HERE YOU SEXY-ASS BITCH, IMMA FUCK YOU TILL YOUR CUNT RIPS”. Okay, no… that would be nasty and so wrong! But then I saw him glance at me for a second.
I gave him a small, naughty smile, and he smiled back at me. But just polite. I guess I should quit my conquest before people are starting to get hurt…
So I went on with painting, although I couldn’t keep my mind to it. Partly I felt disappointed, although it wasn’t like I’ve really expected him to bite. But another part of me felt ashamed. I am a teenage girl, 18 years old and I’m trying to seduce my painting teacher Mike who’s one year older than my mother. People would think that’s sick. Well, maybe it is, but fuck that, I don’t care. And why should I? I see life in a different way as other people. For me, life is all about me, and I create it. I create the things around me and I shouldn’t care about everyone else’s thoughts, cause they aren’t real. Everything is inside my head. Same for u, life is made up by the person who lives it. I know there are a lot of blank spots in my theory, but let’s not go there. If you think too much about things, you notice so much things that are not right. You’ll ask yourself so many questions with no answers for them to be found. You’ll get isolated and lonely trying to figure things out and get depressed. My motto: think, but don’t go too far or you’ll get lost.
Anyways, after a long hour, time was up and me and my grandmother went back home. She dropped me off at the station and I took my train home, staring outside the window and thinking about what to do next. Should I try again or leave it?
So today it’s painting-day again, and I’m wearing a short dress with a deep cleavage which fits perfect and emphasizes my waist and breasts. With my high heels underneath and my hair up neatly, I am ready for what the day will bring to me. On my way to the academy I saw many guys and men stare, some made annoying comments, but that’s something I need to accept, cause I kind of am provoking them. My grandmother came to pick me up at the station and now we’re heading together to the academy. The air in the class is hot and dry again, as it always is. Guess something steamy will have to fix that… I put my easel against the window and prepare everything for today’s class.
Mike is helping someone next to me and is sitting in such a way he can look right at me. I’m thinking about the advantages that gives me and in the meanwhile I’m scanning him from tip to toes and thinking about how he would look like underneath those loose clothes. He catches me looking and smiles and says he will be right here when he’s finished helping the old, unobservant woman. Guess he didn’t notice me staring at him, or he’s hiding it. My helpless heart can’t help it but do the most cliché thing ever. I ‘accidently’ drop my painting shirt behind my table and bend over to grab it so my short dress goes up and only júst covers my ass, bending my back a bit when I get up and making my sweet little butt stick out, making it very noticeable. I am one of the most unsubtle persons so I don’t look behind me to see if he saw me, but I can feel his eyes bore into my back. Well, butt, maybe. I continue to prepare and then start already with painting. Mike gets behind me and examines the way I’m working. “You’re doing a great job, don’t you think?! Let’s have a closer look.” He sits down at my chair and I stand behind him, watching closely what he does and recommends me to do. I get a little closer to him and bend down to look at an example he made on a sheet of paper. I can smell his scent and breathe softly in his neck. His little hackles stand up, responding to the question whether he has felt it. Usually I’m not the one to take the lead, but I like risks cause it makes me excited. I bend down just a little more, my lips lightly touch Mike’s neck. I can feel his body react to that touch, but it’s not a bad reaction. His breath increases a tiny bit and he goes on with his advice. When he’s done talking he stands up and goes to help someone else, with a quick look behind and a naughty smile. I smile back and think about my victory and how it may evolve…
When he left me, I was hoping he would show me a sign to show me he was still thinking about me. With even just a little sign I’d be happy. Something like “COME OVER HERE YOU SEXY-ASS BITCH, IMMA FUCK YOU TILL YOUR CUNT RIPS”. Okay, no… that would be nasty and so wrong! But then I saw him glance at me for a second.
I gave him a small, naughty smile, and he smiled back at me. But just polite. I guess I should quit my conquest before people are starting to get hurt…
So I went on with painting, although I couldn’t keep my mind to it. Partly I felt disappointed, although it wasn’t like I’ve really expected him to bite. But another part of me felt ashamed. I am a teenage girl, 18 years old and I’m trying to seduce my painting teacher Mike who’s one year older than my mother. People would think that’s sick. Well, maybe it is, but fuck that, I don’t care. And why should I? I see life in a different way as other people. For me, life is all about me, and I create it. I create the things around me and I shouldn’t care about everyone else’s thoughts, cause they aren’t real. Everything is inside my head. Same for u, life is made up by the person who lives it. I know there are a lot of blank spots in my theory, but let’s not go there. If you think too much about things, you notice so much things that are not right. You’ll ask yourself so many questions with no answers for them to be found. You’ll get isolated and lonely trying to figure things out and get depressed. My motto: think, but don’t go too far or you’ll get lost.
Anyways, after a long hour, time was up and me and my grandmother went back home. She dropped me off at the station and I took my train home, staring outside the window and thinking about what to do next. Should I try again or leave it?
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