“Oh, that was dirty,” Susan looked impressed. “Sure, it’s not time you did some draining?”
“You know after I locked Nick out of the house when one of his friends who finally felt bad for me sent me a picture of him and his latest tramp, I started going through all his shit and found a bottle of Viagra.”
“You’d think girls that young would be all the Viagra you’d need.” Susan frowned. “Sorry, didn’t mean it that way.”
“No worries, point is these trollops have no idea what’s waiting for them at our age. Batteries, blue pills if you want a second round, and sixty nine becomes you do me I owe you one, and they never pay that debt.”
“Its time, Miranda.” Susan grinned. “You hear yourself? You have sexual frustration on the brain.”
“Not saying you’re wrong, just don’t think I could.” Miranda changed the subject from her. “What about now? Have any studs this year you thought about?”
“One or two. This year I found out one of my female students had a thing for me.”
“Must like small tits.”
“Bitch. But this semester there was no one that really did it for me. I know they’re legit hot when Tim becomes them when I close my eyes.”
“Classy,” Miranda grinned and drained the rest of her coffee. “Wow, I needed this.”
“What about you? Have any hot ones?”
“Not really.”
‘Liar!” Susan pointed to her. “Tristan Brit?”
“Oh, right,” Miranda nodded. “Him.”
“Yeah him, Mr. dark perfect hair, green eyes, cleft chin and abs you could break a walnut on?”
“Sure, he’s okay.”
“Okay? Are you going to lie now? Why are you getting all funny with me?”
“Fine, he’s,” she couldn’t hold back a smile. “Damn fine.”
“I know, he was in my class two semesters ago.” Susan went on. “Easy going too, he seems sweet,” she licked her lips. “Made me want to ruin him even more.”
“True, he doesn’t seem cocky like a lot of the jocks. Good kid.”
“I wouldn’t mind his kid in me,” Susan whistled. “He used to sit in the front row and in these tight ass jeans and I could see his damn bulge.” She put her hands up. “Let’s face it. we’re as bad as the guys.”
“Sometimes.”
“So why didn’t you just say him when I asked?”
“Don’t you have tests to grade?”
“Aha!” Susan slapped the desk. “I know why. I bet you’ve thought about him. Maybe he’s the one you were sitting on your desk for in your dirty little fantasy.”
Miranda blushed, and Susan laughed.
“How cute are you, blushing like a teenager. Why? Its natural, especially in your state.”
“I’m not in a state, and yes, I’ve had some thoughts about him, and you’re right, it shows it’s been a while. I’ve never thought of a student that way before.”
“Seriously?”
“A passing thought, but never,” she pushed away a few of the images she’d had involving her going full blown wild cat on a twenty year old student. “Other things.”
“You get wet looking at him in class? Right at your desk?” Susan smirked. “Ever try to see if he looks at you?”
“No, I always dress appropriately.”
“Sometimes damn frigid.” The smile was widening. “But I do recall seeing you in some shorter skirts and tighter blouses, couple had a V-neck.”
“Stop it. Sometimes I just wanted to feel a little better about myself, okay?”
“Don’t get defensive, I’m only teasing,” she winked. “And wondering if you were trying any teasing.”
“Of course not!” she snapped a little too quickly and way too loudly.
“You have! Has he looked?”
She slumped in the chair. “I’m not proud, but one day I went over because I could see he was texting under his desk, and I had one of those lower cut shirts on and leaned over in front of him.”
“And?”
Miranda couldn’t help smiling. “Let’s just say I could have used the ‘my eyes are up here’ line.”
“Cock tease!”
“Please, kid like that is banging any girl he wants. He might have looked because boobs are boobs, but he doesn’t want a teacher his mother’s age.”
“Cougar, milf, teacher, all go to fantasies for kids his age. So would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Sleep with him or any student?”
“Never.”
“Try this way, you won’t get caught. Free hall pass.”
“Still think it’s wrong.”
“Even if they want it?”
“Why are we playing this game?”
“I like to play it out in my mind. Maybe I just want to know I’m not wrong for thinking I would if I weren’t married and wouldn’t catch any shit.”
“Hate to make you feel bad, but I don’t think I could ever seduce a student.”
“I said part of the game is they want it.”
“Still wrong to me. Its kind of like abuse of power.”
“Some people like abuse, even pay for it.” Susan rose from her chair. “But okay goody two shoes. You’re a better woman than me.”
“Goes without saying,” Miranda quipped. “I got the boobs, remember?”
“What good are they when you’re the only one touching them? Susan retorted. “You still coming for dinner Friday night?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Tell Tim I’ll wear my hair down and even put some Aquanet in it for him.”
“I’m getting some for sure!” Susan laughed. “I’m off to grade a few more then head home. Try not to stay too late.”
“Not like I have anything better to do.” Miranda slid back up to her desk and picked up her red pen.
“Who’s fault is that?” Susan asked, then with a wave left the office, closing the door behind her.
“Nicks,” Miranda said softly, then stared down at her long red nails.
She did her nails and went for a pedicure every week, still trying to look good and for what? For who? She wasn’t ready to trust anyone again, but Susan was right, meaningless casual sex didn’t require any commitment. Why couldn’t she do it?”
She looked at the pen in her hand and muttered what she always told her students.
“No complaining about the grade. You’re responsible for your work and yourselves.”
Her frustration was her fault and no one else, and she was the only one who could do anything about it.
The question was could she?
Chapter Two
Miranda’s eyes darted from the letter of recommendation she was currently working on to the time at the bottom of the screen. 4:20. At 4:30 her last appointment of the day, for that matter the semester, would be coming in.
She should be relieved, but instead felt the anxiety she’d been experiencing periodically during the day become a constant over the last half hour. The feeling wasn’t the fault of the last student she would see after ten years of teaching at URI, but hers.
In ten minutes, Tristan Britt would come in to discuss his final exam grade with her. Nothing uncommon about that. Professors usually did everything they could to get students their final grade with a couple of days left in the semester to talk before they submitted the final grade at the end of the day on Friday.