I’m minding my own business on an uneventful Wednesday when Kemper swings the classroom door open and shuts it behind him. My eyes shift to him as he spins the lock on the door. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since Sunday, which amounts to a little under seventy-two hours if my calculations are correct, but I’m no math teacher.

He’s freshly shaved, and looking all around clean, but I know better.

“What are you doing?” I scold him, and rise from my too-comfortable chair. “You can’t be in here.”

“Why the hell not?” He motions behind him and drops his backpack to the floor. “Isn’t this your free period.”

“Yes.” I straighten my skirt and pace toward him. “It’s the one hour of the day I get to myself.”

“I’ve been going crazy since I dropped you off at your car the other night.”

“Yeah, I’ve been pretty crazy myself, but for different reasons.”

“Care to share?”

“Not particularly.” I step past him, but he stops me with a strong hand gripped around my arm.

“It’s your husband, isn’t it?”

“Stop doing that,” I break away and wag a finger at him. “Stop getting inside my head.”

“He wasn’t too happy when you returned home, was he?”

“Well, I don’t know Kemper.” I shrug. “Why don’t you fill me in on how that night went?”

“I’m assuming the two of you fought.”

“That’s really none of your business.”

“Stop doing that, Stassi,” he shoots my words right back at me. “You have an awful habit of deciding what is and isn’t my business.”

“That’s because it’s my life.” I feel I need to remind him, a life that is riddled with more obstacles than the path to a State Championship. “What are you doing here?”

“If I’m being honest.” His hand trails to his crotch where he chokes his hand around an erection stretching against denim. “I kind of thought—“

“Absolutely not.” I race to the door and peel it open a crack. Nobody seems to be in the hall. I gently close the door and spin around to check the clock. We have four minutes until the next bell. Before I can turn back to Kemper, his lips are pressed against my neck and one hand is trailing under my skirt.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growls against my ear and then chews against my flesh, forcing my toes to curl in my heels. “I want to fuck you right here. Right now.”

“You’re—“ I push him away and straighten my skirt once more. “You’re insane if you think this is happening.”

His eyes blink and he scratches at the back of his head. “I’d like to think we’re both insane, or we wouldn’t even be in this position in the first place.”

“We wouldn’t be in this position if you didn’t lie about who you were.”

“We wouldn’t be in this position if you didn’t put a gun—“

“Stop talking,” I command with a finger to his face as I make my way to the door. I twist my hand around the knob, but I’m pushed deep against the door as he maneuvers his body behind mine, pinning me in place.

He breathes fire against my neck and his hand travels underneath my skirt and against my panties. I push my body back against his, craving the friction only he can provide. I throw my arm behind his head, pulling him deeper against my neck and digging my fingers through his tussled hair.

“This is every man’s dream,” he groans, “fucking his teacher in her own classroom.” He pushes his hand down the front of my panties and runs his palm over my pussy, wet and wanting. He pumps his hand over my opening, pushing me to the limits of sanity, and just when I think about giving in, someone throws themselves against the outside of the door.

I flinch backward, knocking my head against his. He rips his hand from my panties and massages his face. “Oww,”

“You should go,” I say, panting as I turn to face him.

“This isn’t over,” he promises me and exits the classroom. I watch him as he leaves and wait for him to disappear around a corner down the empty hall. I search with my eyes, looking for whoever it was that was thrown against the door, but there’s nobody to be seen.

Perhaps I’m going crazy.

Perhaps I crossed that threshold a long time ago.

Then I look down and see his bag, left abandoned on the classroom floor.

I race down the empty hall, my eyes searching for Kemper. When I turn the same corner he disappeared around, I stop in place, my heels squealing against the ancient wood floors.

A hand is thrown around my mouth and I fight back, sinking my teeth into my attackers finger.

“Shit,” Kemper yelps.

I spin to face him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Shit,” he repeats, his eyes narrowed in on the classroom door behind us, and the doorknob spins. He drags me toward a door, rips it open, and pulls me inside.

It’s dark and damp, musky and chemicals burn through my nose. There’s a click, and a light bulb shatters above us, exploding shrapnel of glass around us. Then, the room is lit with the soft glow from his cell phone.

In the particular lighting we’ve found ourselves in, he looks dark and sinister with a cracking smile reminiscent of a demon from the latest paranormal film at the cinemas.

“I knew you’d come for me,” he whispers as he leans close and props his phone against a jug of bleach. His hand trails to my ass and he pulls me in close, dangerously close to the erection in his jeans.

“Because you left your bag.”

“Why’d you think I left it?”

“Because you’re burning so many calories maintaining that permanent erection,” I pout, grieving the loss of his brain cells, “that there’s not enough calories left to think straight.”

“No, because I wanted to get you alone.”

“You had me alone.”

“Nobody is going to interrupt us in here.”

“Are you insane?” I throw my hand up. “Don’t answer that question.”

“It’s private, and it’s…” He glances around at the setting, and grimaces. “Nice enough.”

“I’m not fucking in a janitorial closet.”

“I see you’ve made your mind up already.”

“That’s some astounding, sleuth work.”

His teeth sink into his bottom lip and he braces one arm against a metal rack. “How about a blowjob?”

“Goodbye, Kemper.”

Just as I’m about to push the door open, the bell rings and I must think quick on my feet. I dart out of the closet and into the center of the hall as a row of classroom doors are thrown open, giving way to a stampede of students, and a chorus of idle gossip. Soon, I’m surrounded in the thick of the herd, and when I glance over my shoulder at the janitorial closet, I spot Kemper sheepishly merging into the traffic with flushed cheeks as students watch him with curious amusement.

Serves him right.

I cleaned up my desk in a hurry and stuffed a pile of papers in need of some serious red pen work into my bag before shutting off the classroom light. I leave the door open so the janitor can clean the room, and make my way down the dim-lit hall.

My phone vibrates in my oversized purse and I reach down to retrieve it to see a notification from Mrs. Benson, the haughty gym coach.

I briefly consider not going. After all, I had texted her on Monday to see if she could cover my detention shift, to which I received no reply, but I have no other plans for the evening outside of avoiding my husband, who should have wrapped up football practice forty-five minutes ago.

Any excuse to avoid gong home is an excuse I’m willing to give credence to. I text her back:

The locker room is dark and humid, with no evidence of anyone present. The football players are long gone, but the steam from the showers linger.

“Hello,” I call out as I pace through the darkness and toward the dimly-lit office. “Mrs. Benson?”

A shadow shifts in front of me, darting across an opening and into a row of lockers. I freeze in place and squint my eyes, trying to get a better view as I make my way toward the lockers.

Someone jumps out in front of me and I scream. The light is flipped on and Kemper stands in front of me with a mischievous grin plastered across his face.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” I scold him. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“What?” I scoff. “How did you even know I’d be in here?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m meeting Mrs. Benson, so you need to scram before someone sees you.”

“This is fucking great,” he snickers and throws his palm outward, bracing himself against the side of a purple locker. “I don’t think she’s coming.”

“And why is that Mr. Brightside?”

“I’ve been here alone for the last twenty minutes.” He angles his eyes at my phone. “Maybe you should try calling her?”

“Would you be quiet?” I scroll through the recent contacts on my phone and raise the phone to my ear. It rings once. Kemper grins. It rings twice. His phone rings. My eyes shift to his pocket as he pulls his phone from his pocket and answers it.

“Mrs. Benson, speaking.”

“I’m going to kill you.” I toss my phone into my purse. “Why do you have her phone?”

He squints his eyes as if it’s a confusing question, and rotates his phone in one hand. “This is my phone.”

“This makes no sense.”

“When you were sleeping the other night, I slipped into your phone and added my number under her name so we could talk without raising eyebrows.”

“You went through my phone?”

“To be fair, you really should have a passcode,” he points out. “Especially if you’re going to be having an affair.”

“You couldn’t make up a name?” I question in shock and disbelief. No wonder she never answered my pleas for her take my shift when I felt too sick to my stomach to withstand the burden of overseeing unruly teens after school.

“I didn’t want it to be suspicious.”

“Suspicious?” I step toward him, and he retreats backward until he’s pushed against the locker, thudding against metal. I hover before him in a threatening manner. “I have spent all day engaging in a game of cat and mouse with you.”

He laughs to himself and chews into his lip. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad, Teach.”

“Call me that again, and I’m going to make you scream.”

“Really?” He arches his brow. “Make me scream, Teach.”

I reach down and squeeze the permanent erection in his jeans. He doesn’t scream, but he lets out a panty-melting yelp followed by a stifled moan. His head is thrown back against the locker as I tighten my grip.

He shuffles against the locker and reaches to free himself from his jeans. He pushes his boxers down, exposing his hard cock. I tease him with my fingers, drumming a pattern along the length of his shaft.

When I wrap my hand around him, he tangles his fingers in my hair and pushes my head down. At first, I hesitate so he applies more pressure until I oblige and sink to my knees.

I wet my palm with my tongue and move to stroke him in short, careful strokes. Fingers dig into my scalp and his knees buckle when I take him in my mouth completely.

I suck his cock, applying just the right amount of pressure while my hand twists up and down his shaft. He’s shaking and on the verge of an explosion, unable to hold himself together long enough to make this worthwhile, but on the other end of the equation, the longer it takes him for him to blow, the higher the chance we’ll be caught red-handed and then the gossip queens in this town will really have something to talk about.

“Fuck, Stass—“ His body spasms. “I’m going to come.”

But I can’t give him that satisfaction. I release my hand from his erection and pull my mouth free, resulting in a loud and wet pop. His eyes hunker down at me and he shakes his head furiously.

“Please,” he whispers, but I stand to my feet with an evil grin. “Fine.” He reaches for the back of my head and pulls me into a rough kiss, and from beneath, I can feel his hand stroking away at his cock. He guides himself underneath my skirt and aligns his cock with my panties and chokes on his throat as he releases his warm seed against the thin fabric of my underwear.

He struggles to catch his breath, and I make the task even more difficult for him by chewing into his lip and slipping my tongue into his mouth, stealing whatever breath he requires to remain standing. He collapses forward, hunkered over my shoulder as he comes down from his orgasm.

When he comes back down to planet Earth, I reach underneath my skirt and free myself from stained panties. I kick them over my heels, catch them in my hand and push them against his chest.

“These are yours now,” I whisper against his ear and tug against his flesh with my teeth. “I’ll see you this weekend,” I promise and take a measured step backward, watching him stuff my black panties into his back pocket, all the while never taking his eyes off mine.

I continue to pace backward until I reach the light switch and flip it off, leaving him in the dark as I exit the locker room and begin the long march to my car. As I push through the double glass doors of the school, and feel the cool air breezing through my hair, I feel at peace.

Something about that stupid boy makes me feel alive.