Chapter 8

Mr. Carlos has been my tutor in school and also has been my crush. It started approximately 7 years ago when I began his English class at high school. I had known about him prior to starting the class as my boyfriend at the time would often talk about him. He was known for being a bit of a peacock, overly confident with a favoritism toward his athlete students who played for him on the baseball team. He was divorced and the only halfway decent looking teacher on staff, making him the default target of any girl infatuated with an authority figure.

Now, I had never had strong feelings toward anyone. Even with my few boyfriends, I had never found them physically attractive. All of my sexual interest has been targeted at people who are unrealistic, like celebrities. For that reason, I have given up on enjoying that aspect of my life. To this day, I have I have never met anyone in person who I could lust after. Until him.

You know that feeling you get when you just connect, inexplicably, with someone? As soon as I met him, I got the immediate impression we would have great sex. The type of thick tension you need a chainsaw the get through. He is nothing like my self-identified type, but I had this raw primal compulsion toward him. This was a shock to me as I was very shy and embarrassingly.

I would never do anything inappropriate, and didn’t, but his insistence on giving me attention did not help the matter. I was introverted, bookish and sarcastic, making me an easy listener for someone. He was confusing to say the least, at one moment speaking at length about comparative analysis and his opinions on the romanticization like a blockhead jock the next.

I would sit in class squirming, struggling to pry my attention off of him. I wanted him to feel as attracted to me as I was to him, so I did my part, trying to appear girlishly tempting but meek enough to remain casual.

He may have been no model but God was he handsome. At 34, he had grown into a mature attractiveness that few men reach until their 40’s. Deep tanned skin from being outside with his team, a lithe collection of muscles filling out his shirt from his time working out. Clean trimmed blonde hair that was a nice change from the typical close cropped look of men in the Midwest. Deep blue eyes whose magnetism made it difficult to look away.

That being said, my favorite feature was the sharpness of his nose. Many times I had imagined sitting on his face, writhing as I grinded the slickness of my pussy onto his nose and mouth. His voice had a rough graveliness to it, a graveliness that I wanted to hear groan and whisper pleadings into my ear.

Somehow for that year I was placed right next to his desk, making me the receiver of frequent smalltalk, and general attention. Fr some unknown reason, he was drawn to me even though I was nothing like his normal favorites.

He would tell me about his life, how he was dating his former classmate because it was easy even though he didn’t particularly like her. How he wanted to begin publishing and how we could work out a deal where I provide illustrations.

I was an accomplice in class jokes, being reliable to follow his lead dutifully and receive secret notes with instructions without alarm. After his class that year, he would still go out of his way to talk to me alone in the cafeteria or seemingly harmless things. At one point, he placed me on the committee of a club he was running even though I wasn’t on the ballot. This led to outside interaction, including getting dinner where he sat with me at a table before my friends could reach me.

Next came senior year. It was implied that he may have found me pretty, through a series of events that never quite crossed the line, he described being attracted to my physical type: pale skin, long dark hair, with a hint of mischief. The only moment where it became clear something was up was when I was walking down the hallway alone during my senior year. He was walking alone behind me when suddenly I was pushed in an area that caved into a private hallway reaching the library.

The full front of my body met the wall as the weight of a person pressed against me for 3 seconds. Shocked, I stood silently while an exhale heaved against my back, breathing in the rich scent of his cologne. As soon as it had begun, he let go and continued walking down the hallway normally. I tried to come up with reasonable explanations in my head for what had happened, but none could make sense.

I pretended as if that incident had never occurred and he never did it again. Graduation day, he takes one of my senior photos that looks particularly sultry. Hearing him tell me how I looked like a model gave me the biggest ego boost. It was that which pushed me into trying my hand at some light modelling work once I was in college.

Later on, I see him at a mutual friend’s party and he followed me alone into the room while I got food. He started to talk but quieted down when someone else came in. Another friend of mine and I left shortly after and I never received closure on what he was going to say. Since that day, I have not seen him and assumed we would never see each other again.

Or, at least, that’s what I thought.

My creamy white skin became blemish free, my body remained slender and my small breasts pleasantly perky. My romance in college had been mild, with 1 serious boyfriend. It seemed that no matter how hard I tried to engage with someone, a fleeting thought of Mr. Carlos would intrude.

For me, he was someone who could play the game with me. We could both feel something, but would deny and tease around the subject. I dreamed of us meeting again, of him finally crossing that line and taking control, with me being the receiver of those years of built up desire.