Imagining the past

So I have been emailing DO from high school. It's been fun talking about what we remember of the students, teachers. One teacher in particular was quite popular with the guys, and she did not seem to mind the attention too much.
And that reminded me of the story I wrote years ago. It's a small piece of a larger thing.


Honor Student
Ann I
By GW Hogg
©3-24-00

“I don’t want to do anything that will get me in trouble.” She said as she finished filling her glass of wine.
I put down my coffee and walked over to her, thinking about what she really meant. This was the moment, now or never.

All our time spent alone in her apartment. All the long talks we had. Her telling me about the little town she grew up in and how she was one of the few girls who didn’t graduate pregnant. I understood the implication, she was careful. The discussions of English writers and the authors real meaning. What a ‘vorpal blade’ really was!
I don’t know how or why, but one day after class, she invited me to her apartment. Fresh out of college, maybe she liked that one of her students enjoyed her class, actually got something out of it. Maybe I was actually interested in learning something, not trying to endure summer school like the rest of my classmates. Maybe I also paid attention because she was young and gorgeous. Most of my other teachers were much older. But I enjoyed the class and watching her. Her big smile and the way she would laugh.
And now I found myself walking towards her, taking the glass out of her hand and carefully placing on the counter in her small kitchen.
“I won’t tell.” I said and gently kissed her on the cheek.
“Reg, I can’t. I could get into so much trouble.”
I took her hands and kissed them. Held them and looked into her eyes.
“Reg…”
I kissed her on the lips. Softly, just a taste. I looked into her eyes again and when I kissed her again, she pulled back just a little, paused; then she opened her mouth and devoured me.
Buttons, belts and bra straps fought us, but we won. There were long scratches on my back from her pulling off my shirt, her zipper got broken. As I fumbled with my pants, she pushed me into her bedroom, onto her bed and stripped the rest of my clothes off. I fumbled a lot, but she was a patient teacher. There is a difference between a woman and a teenage girl, a wonderful difference that I discovered that night.

In the rosy pink light of dawn, I awoke and cuddled next to her. As I kissed her, she woke up and this look of horror crossed her face.
“Oh My God! What have I done!”
Stunned, I could only watch as she leapt out of bed and grabbed a robe from her closet.
“Ann? What?”
“Oh God, what was I thinking! I could get into so much trouble! I could lose my job!”
“I don’t understand.”
She sat on the bed and looked at me. The emotions on her face were too complex for my young mind to understand. “Ann?”
“Reg…Reg, we have done a terrible thing. Please, promise me you’ll never breathe a word of this!”
“But…”
“Not a word! Oh, what was I thinking!”
“Ann.”
“Promise me!”
“Okay,” still not comprehending. “I’ll never mention this to anyone.”
“Do you swear?”
“Yes, I swear I’ll never tell a soul.”
“Reg, you’re a wonderful young man.”
“But.”
“But we should never have done this. I am too old for you and there are laws.”
“But I thought.”
“Oh you dear sweet guy, of course I am fond of you, who wouldn’t be! But this can’t happen between us.”
She started picking up her clothes and I gathered up mine and slowly got dressed. We didn’t say much, I didn’t know what to say. I felt crushed and rejected. I guess she sensed my mood, for she came to me and gave me a big hug.
“Reg, you were wonderful, better than most. If you were just a year older, I wouldn’t have to worry about the age difference.”
“But it’s there.”
“Yes, it’s there, damn it all. I do enjoy your company and lord knows I enjoyed last night.” She smiled at me and I felt better. “We can only be friends, no we better not even be that. Reg, if we still spend time together, people might wonder.”
“And if they wonder, that’s all it will take for you to lose your position.”
“You understand.”
“I guess I do, but I don’t like it.”
“I don’t either.”
“Okay, I guess I can handle it. It’s not me.”
“No, never you.” And she surprised me by giving me a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to have to be hard on you in class.”
“I understand, we don’t want people to get ideas.”
“And.”
“And I can’t come over here anymore.”
“No, I am sorry.”
“I’ll remember.”
“Do that. Remember a woman who risked jail for a night with you.”
“Thank you, I will.”

I felt a lot better as I walked home that warm summer morning.

Or

“I don’t want to do anything that will get me in trouble.” She said as she finished filling her glass with wine.
I picked up my coffee cup and walked over to her, thinking about what she really meant.
“Just a little wine?”
“No, sorry.”
“Then I guess I’ll have some more coffee.”
“Okay. Now, what did you mean when you said that you didn’t understand what Bram Stoker meant by…