Mr. Wilson was my English teacher and was the best looking man I think I've ever met. It wasn't just his looks, it was this simmering coolness about him that just made him so...wow. I'd sit in class dreaming what it'd be like to wake up that very morning with him. Iron his shirt, make him some coffee, kiss him goodbye.
I was into my Gothic thing at the time, white makeup, black clothes. It was all very depressing with an overt hint of sexuality. I was often called a 'slut' and I wore the badge proudly, even though I wasn't all that experienced.
The day came that I was late with a book report and Mr. Wilson suggested that I drop it by his house after school and he'd consider it as turned in on time. I really needed the grade and it was worth the long bicycle trip out to his house that night. Besides, I'd get to see his house!
When I got to his house he was out front raking leaves and he directed me to put the bike in his ga...
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