What I wouldn’t give to strip off those prim clothes I’d seen tonight, pin her to the bed, and…
I sucked in a breath, slamming my hand into the marble wall to support myself.
Shit.
I swallowed, gasping for breath as I smoothed my wet hand over the top of my head.
Looking down, I saw the stretched skin of my cock, begging for release as it pulsed and throbbed.
Slamming the knob to the left, I breathed hard under the sudden rush of cold water, clenching my teeth in frustration.
Easton Bradbury was off-limits.
And don’t forget it.
FOUR
EASTON
“Okay, so…” I started, slowly stalking between the rows of desks and smiling at the printout of a Facebook post in my hand. “The question posed in the Facebook group yesterday that received the most responses was ‘Why did men ever stop wearing tights? I would’ve rocked that,’ ” I read to the class.
The freshman boys broke out in snorts while the girls giggled, remembering the lengthy conversation some of them had carried on last night.
Marcus Matthews popped up and jumped onto his chair, holding his hands up in the air and smiling as he soaked in the praise and taking credit for his question last night.
I shook my head, amused. “Sit down,” I ordered, shooting my pointed finger from him to the chair. “Now.”
He laughed, but quickly jumped down and took his seat, the rest of the class still voicing their amusement behind him.
During the three weeks since school had started, we’d moved quickly through the curriculum and had been studying the independence of America, the founding fathers, and the Revolutionary War, hence the men-in-tights question.
Out of all the activities I’d planned to engage them, the social media requirements were the most successful. The parents had all received a lengthy letter after the first day, explaining the rhyme and reason to social media in the classroom. The students – per school rule – were already required to have laptops, which made it even more convenient to jump online anytime we wanted without the need for a computer lab. And it fit in perfectly with my goal of educating students to live in the digital world.
Social media was a necessary evil.
There were certainly dangers, and there had been a lot of apprehension from parents at first, but once I’d called and e-mailed to smooth over any resistance, all was well. They eventually understood my position, and most parents found great enjoyment in seeing the class’s interactions online, given that they weren’t able to see the students’ engagement in the classroom.
Parents and students were invited to join our private Facebook group, where I posted assignments, discussion questions, and pictures of what happened in class or videos of presentations. Over the days and weeks, participation grew exponentially as parents were able to take a bigger role in their children’s education and see not only their children’s work but others’ as well.
Not that students should be compared, but I found it a great motivator when parents saw the work of students who held the bar higher.
We also had Twitter accounts and a Twitter board in the classroom, as well as private Pinterest boards, where students and parents could brainstorm and collectively gather research.
Only a few parents were still uncooperative – I glanced at Christian Marek, seeing him slouch at his desk – so I did my best to make accommodations.
But I knew those students still felt left out. I had considered the possibility of abandoning the entire method, because I didn’t want anyone hurt, but once I saw the participation and benefit, I refused. I’d simply have to get through to the parents.
I allowed myself a small smile, grinning at Marcus’s pride in himself. But the silence off to the back where Christian sat was almost more deafening than the students’ excitement.
He stared at his laptop screen, looking half angry and half bored. I couldn’t figure him out. I knew he had friends. I’d seen him eating with other kids at lunch and playing on the field, laughing and joking.
But in the classroom – or my classroom, anyway – it was like he wasn’t even here. He performed well on take-home assignments, but he never participated in discussions and he did poorly on quizzes and tests. Anything that took place in the classroom was unsuccessful.
I’d tried talking to him, but I wasn’t getting anywhere, and I was going to have to come to terms with the options I was left with to help him.
Like calling his father, which I should’ve already done but hadn’t found the guts.
I turned back to the class, refocusing my attention. “Congratulations, Mr. Matthews.” I nodded, teasing Marcus. “While your question was meant to be funny – no doubt – it did spark some interesting comments about the history of attire.”
I rounded the front of the classroom and leaned back on my desk. “Since fashion is a very popular topic, we also delved into the history of women’s fashion, and that led to a debate on feminism,” I reminded them. “Now, of course, fashion wasn’t a topic I was supposed to teach you this year.” I smiled. “But you were critically thinking and you saw how topics like these are interrelated. You were discussing, comparing, and contrasting…” I sighed, eyeing them with amusement before I continued. “And it certainly wasn’t boring to read your responses, so good job.”
The class cheered, and Marcus shouted out, “So do we get Song of the Week?” He lifted his eyebrows in expectation.