by Nikki Palmer
Nikki and her Teacher
Nikki and her Teacher
Midpoint
Nikki and her Teacher
By Nikki Palmer
Copyright 2011 by Nikki Palmer
Smashwords Edition
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All characters in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older. This book is intended for mature readers, only.
Nikole has had a crush on the same man her entire senior year of high school. His name is Coach Meyers, and he's her history teacher. After graduation, she finds a job in a sporting goods store, hoping that she will be able to see him more. When he does come into the store, she tells him how she feels. Again. Will he turn her down yet again, or will he finally give in to the desire they feel for one another?
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I sat in my seventh period history class watching the teacher closely. He was the sexiest teacher at our school. I loved the way his khakis clung to his ass as he walked. He doubled as the football coach, and everything about him just made me drool.
Coach Meyers, as we all called him, was about forty with brown hair and green eyes. When he sat on his desk with his legs spread, his podium propped in front of him, you could see the way his khakis clung to his crotch. I’d stare at him and lick my lips, and sometimes it would seem that he’d catch my eye, and I would watch as his cock thickened behind his fly. It was incredible. Everything about Coach Meyers was incredible.
I didn’t have a boyfriend. None of the boys at our school could compare to Coach Meyers. I couldn’t even think about dating one of them, much less fucking them. Coach was the only man I’d ever wanted.
After class, I came up with a reason to stay behind and ask Coach a question like I did every day. This time I asked him about why people had followed Hitler in Post-World War I Germany. I didn’t really care. All I cared about was staying close to Coach.
As I asked the question, I stood really close to him. I made sure my legs brushed his as he sat on his desk. My eyes told him how I felt about him. After he answered the question, I again whispered, “I love you, Coach Meyers.”
Coach swallowed hard. He knew I’d say that. I had said it to him after school every day all school year. It was only a week until graduation. Yeah, he knew. He answered the same way he always did. “It’s not appropriate for you to say that to me, Nikole. I’m your teacher. There can be no relationship between us.”
I gave him my best sultry smile. I knew it was pretty good because I’d been practicing it in the mirror. I’d heard the speech so many times I could have given it for him. It didn’t matter. He’d change his mind. Eventually.
“I graduate in a week, Coach. Surely we can bend the rules just a little bit.” I ran my finger down the front of his green polo shirt. “I turned 18 two weeks ago. I’m legal, Coach.”
He caught my hand and removed it from his body. I sighed. Why wouldn’t he admit that he felt the same way about me that I felt about him? As I stepped back, I could see the bulge in his pants getting bigger. He wanted me. There was no doubt about it.
“Have a good weekend, Miss Palmer.” He pointed to the door. Whatever. I’d be back and he knew it.
I went to my locker and pulled out the books I’d need for the weekend. Finals were next week. Not that I needed to study much. I didn’t even have to show up for the final to pass my classes. I don’t know why I studied so hard. I guess because it was expected of me, and I always did what was expected of me. Except where Coach Meyers was concerned, but he was a different story altogether.
I headed out the school’s side door and started the lonely walk home. I’d only been going to Justice High School for my senior year. I hated moving so much. This had been the worst, though. By senior year, all the cliques had already formed. The only people that ever talked to me were the silly boys who wanted to get under my skirt. I wasn’t interested at all.
I would have liked making a couple of girlfriends, but I’m a foster kid in hand-me-downs, and foster kids in hand-me-downs don’t tend to make lots of friends in a small rich town like Justice.
I walked the five blocks to the Richardson’s house. They’d been my foster parents since August. They were going to let me stay through the end of June, but then I was on my own. The government money stopped as soon as I graduated. They’d need my bed for some other kid who brought government money with them.
I’m not saying the Richardsons are bad people, because they’re not. They opened their home to me and gave me a place to live when I needed one. My parents died when I was twelve, and I’d been through a long line of foster homes. Most had treated me decently. They gave me clothes to wear, put a roof over my head and gave me food to eat. Some had tried to build a bond with me, but truly, I didn’t want to build a bond with any of them. I had parents that I loved very much. They died. I don’t need more.
I let myself in the house and went straight up to my room, putting my books down before going downstairs to see if I could help Mrs. Richardson with any chores. I always did my best to help out in every way that I could. I hated being a burden.
I walked up behind her in the kitchen. Mrs. Richardson was a nice lady, short and plump, with gray hair and twinkly blue eyes. She had wanted to have a bunch of kids, but the fates had been against her. She only had one, and once he was out of the house, she started fostering. Now that Mr. Richardson had retired, they didn’t have the money to keep kids around once the payments dried up.
“Is there something I can help you with, Mrs. Richardson?” I asked, just like I’d asked every day since coming to live there.
Mrs. Richardson turned to smile at me. “Don’t you have studying to do? I know you have finals next week, dear.”
“I’m pretty much ready. I’ll do some studying, but I have time to help now.”
My little foster-brother, Nathaniel, was in his high chair spitting out the baby food that Mrs. Richardson was working so hard to feed him. I loved how funny he looked with the red gunk all over his face. He made me smile. Nathaniel was the best thing about living here.
My mom had been pregnant when she died. She and Dad were driving too fast on the way to the hospital to have the baby. They were hit by a drunk driver and Dad couldn’t swerve fast enough. All three of them died. Being around little boys probably should have made me sad, but it didn’t. I was always happy to pretend that they were my little brother and Mom and Dad were still alive.
Don’t get me wrong. I know which world is the real one. Sometimes I just liked to escape it.
Mrs. Richardson saw the look on my face and handed me Nathaniel’s spoon. She knew that I liked to help out with him when I could. I sat down in a chair across from his high chair and started shoveling in the spoon, making funny faces at him as I fed him.
Nathaniel had scars all over his hands. He was only nine months old and his dad had decided to “punish” him by holding his hands over an open flame. Nathaniel still had bandages all over his hands when they brought him home. He’d lived with the Richardsons for three months now. The burns had healed, but the scars would never be totally gone.
Nathaniel giggled as I made a particularly silly face that I knew he loved.
Mrs. Richardson worked at cleaning up the kitchen as I took over w
ith Nathaniel. I quickly finished feeding him and changed his diaper, taking him into the living room to play with him.
As I watched him pulling up on the coffee table, I thought about what my babies would look like someday. Mine and Coach Meyers’s babies. I knew we’d be together someday. There was no doubt in my mind.
The next week flew by. I studied, and I aced my finals. I stopped in to tell Coach I loved him every day. I think he would have preferred I hadn’t done that last thing, but whatever. He needed to get used to me.
I graduated third in my class, which was exactly where I wanted to be. I wanted to graduate as high as I could without having to give a speech. I’d done it.
I found a job as soon as I graduated. I didn’t want to go away to college. It would be too far from Coach. I was going to stay here and go to the local community college. The only problem with that was there were no dorms. Sure, I got a free ride, but with nowhere to stay, I’d have to work my tail off for my living expenses if I didn’t want to drown in student loans.
My job was clerking for the local sporting goods store. That worked well for me, because I was hoping that I’d run into Coach there.
One day, my dream came true. I only had a couple of days left with the Richardsons. I’d found a boarding house that I was going to move into. The price was right, even though the house was rundown and a lot dirtier than I would have liked. It was a roof, and they provided breakfast and dinner. I only had to figure out lunch for myself. If it came down to it, I’d skip lunch every day.
I was just finishing up my shift when Coach Meyers came through my line. “Hi, Coach,” I said, trying to make my voice sound sexy.
Coach smiled down at me. He was a former football player and well over six feet. I’m five foot two with heels on. “Hi there, Nikole. Are you enjoying your new job?”
“I love it,” I told him enthusiastically. The truth was, until that moment, I hadn’t much cared for it. Now that he was standing in front of me, it seemed like the most glamorous job in the world.
“Are you heading to college soon?” he asked while I rang up his purchases. He was using his teacher to student voice. I hated that voice. I wanted to hear his “I’m aroused and trying not to show it” voice.
“I’m going to the community college here in town. I want to stay close,” I said looking up at him through my eyelashes.
“I didn’t think you had any family here. And you’ve lived here for less than a year, haven’t you? Why would you want to stay?” he asked. “You should be going to a big university. With your brains, the sky’s the limit!”
“I don’t have family here. But you’re here. Where else would I want to go?” I asked him. “If I decide to, I can always transfer after a couple of years anyway. I’ll have the grades for it.”
He sighed. “Nikole, I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
I handed him his change, running my finger along the palm of his hand. I could see the passion ignite in his eyes. I wanted him, and he knew it. “How do you want to respond?”
He looked around to see who was there. There was only one other register open and the girl running it was with someone. No one was close enough to hear. “What time do you get off work, Nikole?”
Was he asking me for a date? Or did he just want to explain, again, how it wouldn’t work out between us? “In about ten minutes,” I told him. I had worked the early shift that day. It was almost four.
“Are you expected at home as soon as you get off work?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Now that school is out, they don’t pay any attention to me coming and going.”
He looked at me for a moment, almost like he was fighting with himself. “I’ll be in the parking lot in a white Chevy pick-up. Come find me when you’re done.”
I quickly counted out my drawer and almost skipped out to the parking lot. I scanned the lot, and at first didn’t see the truck. I thought he’d left, but then I spotted him, way at the back. I walked over to the truck and climbed in the passenger side.
I found myself wishing that I was wearing something sexier. Here I was in my work clothes, a pair of khaki slacks, and a white button-up shirt. At least I knew my body was still as good as it ever was. I may be short, but I have a fabulous body. I’m slender through the middle with large high tits and a great ass. I know that sounds conceited but it’s true.
I looked over at Coach and smiled. “Hi.” I removed the scrunchie from my long blond hair and shook it out, until it fell down past my shoulders.
He put the truck in gear and started driving. I had no idea where he was going, and honestly, I didn’t care. I totally trusted him. He already owned my heart. Why not my body as well?
I buckled my seat belt and turned toward him as he drove. I wanted to be able to see him. I loved his face. His jawline was strong. His body was still in perfect shape. In my eyes, there was not a more perfect man. I heard other girls going on and on about the silly little teen heartthrobs out there. How could they even see them with Coach around?
I wanted to touch him so badly that my fingers itched, but I kept them in my lap. He wasn’t talking, and I really didn’t want to mess with his concentration. He’d never done anything that would invite me to call him by his first name, but I knew it. It was Bryan. I wondered if he’d let me call him Bryan.
He took the road heading east out of town toward the state park. I’d looked up his address on the internet, and he lived in town, so where he was taking me was still a mystery. Maybe he was looking for a place to dump my body to keep me from pestering him. I snickered to myself as I thought it. He would never do anything like that.
I saw flashes of green as I watched him drive. I knew if I looked out the window the scenery would be beautiful. Minnesota was beautiful this time of year. Leaves were green and the grass was greener. In my mind though, there was nothing as beautiful as Coach.
Finally the truck slowed down and turned in onto an old gravel road. We followed the road for a mile or two when he pulled up to a small cabin. He killed the truck and turned to me fully. “Nikole, we need to talk.”
I nodded. I hated conversations that started that way, and I was sure this one would be no exception. I unbuckled my seat belt so I could turn toward him a bit more. I wanted to touch him, but I was afraid it would make him angry.
“I know you think that you’re in love with me, but I’m old enough to be your father,” he said. “I think you need to go off to the University and find a nice boy.”
I shook my head, my hair flopping back and forth. “I’m not going to do that. I know what I want, and I want you, Coach. There’s nothing in my life I’ve ever wanted the way I want you.”
He stared down at me for a minute. His green eyes looked so intense. “I can’t deny there’s some attraction there, Nikole, but I think we’d both feel like we were doing something wrong if we even kissed. I don’t think having a relationship is a good idea.”
His eyes told me he wanted me to argue. I knew they were. He wanted me to keep fighting him on it so he would feel like he just didn’t have a choice, so I did what I wanted to do.
“Try me, Coach.” I slid across the seat of the truck until I was plastered up against him. I placed one hand against his chest, and moved the other around to the back of his neck. I’d never really kissed a man before. My last foster-dad, Mr. Jackson, didn’t count.
I pulled his face down to mine, tilting my face up, and pressing my lips to his. My whole body started tingling the second his lips touched mine. It was so incredible. I traced my tongue along his lips, and moved my other hand from the front of his shirt to his shoulder, rubbing it through his t-shirt.
At first, he remained pretty passive, letting me kiss him. When I slid my tongue between his lips, his arms came around me and he crushed me up against him. I could feel the hard wall of his chest against my tits. He pressed my mouth open with his tongue.
I tried to climb on his lap and straddle him, but the steering wheel was in the
way. After a minute he pushed me away, resting his forehead against mine. We were both panting.
He sucked in deep breaths, obviously trying to figure out the right words to say to me. I kept my arms around him, gently stroking his neck and shoulder. His body was so hard. I wanted to climb on top of him and beg him to slide his cock inside me.
“I can’t do this out in the open,” he whispered. “No one can know that I’m seeing you. And we have to take it slow. Really slow.” He sounded like he was almost afraid of the words he was saying.
I nodded. “No sex until the second date. Does this count as the first?” I tried to pull his head back down to mine, but he resisted, and he was too strong.
“No. I’m thinking a picnic in the park where we talk and get to know each other. Maybe going to dinner over in Wabedo or St. Cloud. No sex. Not until I know you’re ready.”
I sighed. I wanted to grab his hand and press it inside my panties. He’d have known then I was ready. “Okay, Coach. When?”
