The sound of chalk moving in a rhythmic swish against the black board paused long enough for him to speak aloud. “Class, today, we’re discussing the myth behind,” he waited for the outbreak of giggles and ignored the choked coughs laced with surprise as he finished writing the last letter and said, “werewolves”.
Tapping the white chalk stick against the board to end the sentence with a period, Michael turned sideways and graced his classroom with a look of distain.
The mixed laughter died instantly at the disapproving stare from behind square lenses. Michael folded his arms across his chest and surveyed his students. The age-old method of silence worked magic on the thirty odd teenagers in the 11th grade history class.
Nose twitching, Michael’s eyebrows lifted in question as he glanced from face to face. Apprehension laced with a high influx of hormones tickled his senses. Similar to the various and sometimes irritating perfumes around make-up counters in shopping malls, Michael barely contained a sneeze before he spoke again.
“What’s funny about my topic, boys and girls?” Michael rotated his jaw once. His rock hard composure was a sure way of telling the kids he wasn’t amused. Even though he found their reactions funny, he had to stay one step ahead of the game. Never giving an inch or allowing the power to shift in their favor.
Standing there with his back taunt and legs firmly locked, he allowed a pinch of annoyance to show as he waved his arms at the students. “Well?”
Nobody answered, typical.
The sound of shifting feet and fluttering paper met his sensitive ears as he took note of guilty faces before turning back to the chalkboard again. “Now, I know it’s a weird topic for an old teacher like me to suggest, but it is Friday, so humor me.”
Placing the piece of chalk on the tray underneath the board, he dusted his hands together to remove the white powder residue from his skin. Then Michael swiveled around on the edge of his boot heels to face the class again, and waited for the usual commotion brought on by weekend breaks.
“Yes, Ma— Maggie…” Michael answered before tilting his head back and sneezed. His hands reached his nose and mouth just in time to capture the sneeze.
Perfect. Just. Perfect. He had to be the only werewolf in the world with a sensitive nose. Grabbing a tissue off his desk, Michael quickly blew his sinuses clear, apologized to the class, and took in his favorite among the girls.
Maggie, a tall, lanky, red head, pushed oval glasses up along the bridge of a thin, freckled nose, with one finger. Michael approved of her. She had great potential. A mind like a sponge, soaking up every word he spoke like water in a bowl. For centuries he searched for the right werewolf apprentices, hoping, praying each year would bring fresh blood, new hosts for his kind. Was she the one? Only time would reveal Maggie’s compatibility with the wolf gene.
Tapping a red pencil against her left cheek, Maggie spoke, “I think that’s a great topic—”
“Josh, you can stay after class for detention.” Michael’s disapproving scowl at the young football jock, elicited a session of rolling eyes, followed by slamming a fist down on his desk, loudly.
As an alpha male, Michael was quick of temperament, but held his anger in check the moment he smelt jealousy instead of contempt for the fellow classmate.
“Now, Maggie, finish what you were saying.” Michael beamed an encouraging smile at her before taking a seat on the corner of his desk. Swinging one leg like a pendulum on a grandfather clock, Michael waited patiently for her to address the class.
The teacher caught Maggie giving Josh an ‘I-hate-you-look’. At least that’s what he thought the look was all about before she brushed a red curl out of her eyes. Chewing on her bottom lip, Maggie blew the unruly hair back out of her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. “Forget it—it’s not important.”
Nothing displeased the history teacher more than bullying. If he thought for one second there might be more to the shared looks between Maggie and Josh— their butts would be in the principal’s office.
“Okay!” He clapped his hands together to gain the attention of his pupils and his swinging leg slowed to hang in place. “We have like normal, strayed from the beaten path. Now I happen to agree with Maggie. Werewolves are pretty cool.” He pronounced cool with a k-e-w-l sound, and leaned back across his desk to grab the projector remote off a pile of ungraded homework.
Unlike the other teachers, Michael preferred the old methods of his trade. Chalk board, pencils, paper to laptops, flash drives, and power point essays. He had good reasons for that. Electric current made the wolf in him very nervous. With that thought rushing through his mind, Michael absent-mindedly rubbed the moonstones he sported on his left ear. Blessed by an ancient priest, Michael felt more than relieved that the tiny stones held the beast within him at bay. That is until he was ready to let the monster out to play.
Thirty minutes later and after a long debate on The American Werewolf and Twilight being the best werewolf movies ever— Michael watched the students drift past his desk on their way out the door with a keen eye. He remembered what life could be like as an awkward teenager boarding on the realms of adulthood. The flooding of hormones around him was intoxicating and there were numerous times he’d forced the beast into submission, even with the aid of his earrings.
Reclining in his chair, legs propped up on the edge of his desk— Michael reached up and pulled the thin, wiry, spectacles away from his eyes. He didn’t need them. In truth, the werewolf allowed him special gifts like perfect sight. He could hear conversations through walls. Track a person by their scent. All the way to another state if he chose to, and, out run a moving vehicle.
Smirking twisted his lips up at the corners at the memory of his stupidity after one too many bars of chocolate and a case of whisky. He’d come to the next morning with car parts littering his driveway and front yard, and, not to mention a flat, chewed, radial tire in his bed. His carpets and hard wood floors throughout the house resembled rubber crumb trails. There were pieces of tire everywhere! Throwing his head back, he howled with laughter. Thank God he had one hell of a back yard to bury all that junk in— otherwise there would have been some seriously awkward questions from his nosey neighbors.
“What’s so hilarious?”
Michael stopped long enough to fling his head up and wipe tears from his eyes. “Umm,” he waved a hand across his face, “it’s nothing, I just thought of something funny.” His bottom lip trembled as another wave of laughter rumbled from his chest.
“Want to share the joke, then?”
Michael dropped his legs to the floor and stretched his back while palming his wet cheeks. Boy he’d lost it big time! Glancing up at the art teacher, Michael’s skin tingled and his laughter died instantly. Suddenly the desire to sniff her from head to toe, followed by licking her body all over consumed him.
This had never happened to him before. Maybe this weekend would turn out differently than he expected after all.
Anne wasn’t sure if a student from lab had left him a little gift and he was suffering from some weird cocktail of chemicals.
The first words of caution in her ear from other teachers and staff was to stay away from Mr. Dyson’s class of smoking, and sometimes exploding tubes of concoctions. As for the history teacher, he came with a huge warning label. Michael Lycon, reputation of bachelor, by choice. And just about all the single female staff at Ardmore Senior High School took the time to tell her not to bother. Obviously they’d all tried and got nowhere.
She never dated co-workers. Besides, what did they think she looked like? There wasn’t a stick-it-note on her forehead that read: I need to screw one delicious, hunky, history teacher! And he was sexy all right. History teachers weren’t supposed to ooze sex appeal. They wore their short hair gelled to the max and parted to one side. And of course, she shouldn’t forget the glasses and typical dress code, corduroys or flannel. Well he sported the glasses, which made it one out of three. The hair happened to be a different matter altogether. A thick, wavy, black mane hung around a devilishly handsome and wolfish face. Totally to die for— want to sink your fingers in and stroke all night long. How she never noticed before was beyond her.
Then her eyes drifted down and found to her delight that he wore tight black fitting jeans. Well the corduroys were out of the picture along with the hair. If he’d been her history teacher, she’d’ve flunked on purpose just to sit his class again.
When she heard his chair squeak followed by the hard clomp of his boot heels against the floor, she felt her heart gear up when Michael’s deep laughter ended abruptly. And when she caught sight of the feral look in his silver eyes, she swallowed the gum in her mouth.
The word dangerous came to mind. Could that be the reason he’s single? Who knows, but if he gave women that kind of attention, no wonder he came with a reputation of a bad boy. The man looked ready to eat her whole! Damn, he made her feel vulnerable and sexy at the same time.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” She suddenly felt naked and placed her arms behind her back to keep from showing the unexpected need to guard herself.
“I’m sorry…” Twisting his body from the waist, he pointed at the chalkboard behind him. “I couldn’t get over the last answer from one of my students.” He coughed, “you know how it is. They come up with some real hum dingers at times.”
Anne relaxed and darted across the room to meet him as he stood up and offered his hand. “I know what you mean—”
The last thing he remembered after standing up was how he loved her chocolate brown eyes and then his concentration veered right off track.
His muscles flexed as his shoulder dipped allowing his arm to reach out to her. Instead of shaking hands, Michael slipped the curve of his elbow around Anne’s waist and yanked her roughly against him. Growling, he plunged his face into her nape. His nose drifting over soft skin inhaling her scent as his lips parted allowing his tongue to spread out flat. With one long lick, the tip of his tongue curved up and his eyes closed in ecstasy. God she tasted good.Spearing her black hair with his fingers, his lips traveled from her soft neck, up along her delicate jawbone and across to her small pink mouth. And the moment his tongue darted past her luscious lips, he moaned with pleasure. The taste of tutti fruity bubblegum combined with her perfume made him drool.
“Mr. Lycon? Michael— you okay?” Anne raised an eyebrow at him before scratching her head. What was wrong with him? She nervously twisted around to examine the hallway. Nope, lab class wasn’t in session. Staring at her watch, Anne glanced up in time to see the horror on his face as he fumbled for a tissue on his desk.
Was that drool?
She played with the buttons on her white dress to give him time to regain his composure. Otherwise he’d know the horrible truth when she killed over from hysterical giggling.
“I think I’m coming down with a cold…”
“Umm yeah, well, that explains it all.” She tapped the crystal on her wristwatch and coughed back the girlish laugh that threatened to blow her cover. “You know its 3:45pm, and if you plan to hit the drug store, you need to hurry. Weather channel’s already calling for a tornado watch in our area.”
She stopped talking when Michael opened a drawer and took out a mysterious bottle. Smiling again, he coughed and nodded. “I’m good.”
“Let me see that,” Anne flexed her fingers at him as she walked around his desk. Something about the discolored label told her it was older than dirt. “Is that cough medicine? Looks old— what’s the expiry date on that?”
He held the brown glass jar up to her and glared back. “Why are you worried about my health?” He shook the jar by the lid at her as he talked. “This is the first time you’ve spoke to me since you started working here a few months ago.”
Anne pulled on her tiny pinky finger with her other hand. “Bad habits die hard, I guess. My mother will take anything if it’s in a brown bottle. Doesn’t matter if the writings worn off and the tops nearly glued on from age. And as for not talking to you, I’ve been busy settling in. You know how it is being the new teacher and all. I apologize for that. Maybe we can have lunch together on Monday in the cafeteria?”
When she noticed his shoulders shaking, she automatically reached over and touched his forehead with the back of her wrist. “You’re burning up! Have you got a thermometer in your desk?”
She jumped at his sharp answer and took a few steps back until her thighs collided painfully with a student’s desk in the front row. “You’re a little touchy.”
He didn’t answer. And when he slammed the container on the desk, she stood staring at him in wonder as he shoved his jacket on and left the room.
Michael couldn’t believe he’d made an ass out of himself. He was how old now? And he actually drooled in front of her as if she were a favorite meaty treat! That rattled his ego big time. But what a lovely chew toy she’d make. He had to stop that. And to make matters worse, he was fantasizing. A werewolf didn’t fantasize. They have sex marathons that last for days!
You could fix that. Go back in your class room and ask her to play nurse. You have a thermometer for her to try out, all eight inches of it. Shaking his head, he couldn’t believe he was actually thinking about a blow job with a human.
Shrugging his shoulders, Michael walked faster. He needed to be somewhere right now. Yeah, inside Anne’s tight ass. Rolling his eyes at the image, he dabbed at his mouth with the back of his hand for more drool. She had him ram hard and if he listened to his animal instincts, he’d follow her home, and then do her until they were both sore and spent.
As he rounded the corner near the end of the seniors’ lockers, his head jerked up. The door to the art room stood wide open, taunting him to come in and mark his territory. Boy how he’d love to do just that. And when Anne’s scent hit him, he groaned. Visions of him taking her up against the window, her bare breasts pressed hard against the cold windowpane while he took her from behind, made him harder. What was he going to do? If she saw him, there was no way he could hide the bulge in his jeans. She’d run away in terror and probably report him for sexual harassment.
This would teach him to skip sex during a full moon, and, a spring-equinox eclipse at that. With sex on his mind, he limped toward the double doors. If he hurried, he’d get away before the art teacher caught up with him.
Anne switched the florescent lights off and pulled Michael’s door shut. Turning, she investigated the long, dark, empty hallway. He was gone. Playing with her pinky finger again, she wondered if he’d be okay. Men were horrible creatures when sick. Her father was like a bear with sore paws the minute a cough hit him. But still, something told her to help him anyway. Perhaps she’d stop by the drugstore and drop off some cold medication at his house. Oh, wait! She didn’t know where he lived. If she hurried, she could catch him before he left. Or she could follow him home. God I sound like a stalker.
Back in her class room, she quickly checked and locked the windows before switching the power off on her personal laptop. If the storm passed them by, she’d be able to get back to work on a private art project.
Slinging a large, paint, splattered tote over her shoulder, she grabbed a box full of art supplies. Locked her class room and left the building.
As she bounced down the steps, Anne noticed a few cars left in the faculty parking lot. She didn’t have a clue which one belonged to Mr. Lycon. You need to get your mind off him girl.
Walking slowly over to her vehicle, she balanced the box, laptop, and tote while trying to find her car keys among various pockets of her dress.
“Do you need a hand, Ms. Spears?”
Anne glanced to her left and smiled at one of her art students from sixth period. “No, I’m good, Josh.” She flashed him a knowing smile. “I know football practice was canceled, so I’m guessing you got hit with detention again, Josh?”
“That’s the second time this month.” She said while juggling the items around in her arms.
“Yeah. I upset the apple cart in Mr. Lycon’s history class again today. I’m sure he’s got it in for me.”
“I seriously doubt that, Josh. I know you better than that young man. Now you get going before Principle Madison thinks you’re causing trouble.” Josh waved and Anne let go of the tote bag to return the gesture and waited for Josh to get in the car and drive off.
“How about I give you a hand?”
Anne whirled around at the husky voice and dropped the box, along with her precious laptop and quickly clambered to all fours. She hoped the computer wasn’t broken.
“Sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Too late, you already did that with the zombie act earlier.” She said in a harsh tone that she reserved for her students. Peering under her car, Anne managed to stretch her arm out to recover a tube of paint. Poking her tongue out the corner of her mouth, she saw red when he accidentally stepped on a brush and broke the handle. And when her skin pressed down into sharp gravel as he accidentally stood on her fingers, she shouted at him in anger. “Get off you big ape!”
Instantly Michael’s offending foot lifted off her hand and she watched him back away.
“Sorry! I only meant to help.”
She stumbled to her feet and held her throbbing hand to her chest.
“Let me take a look. I do know first aid.”
Anne watched as he reached out and gently took her hand in his. He carefully dusted her palm free of dirt and grit and tugged it gently up to his mouth. His eyes locked with hers as he kissed the inner side of her wrist. It wasn’t the hand kiss that did her in. It was the brush of his soft, warm tongue along the sensitized, wet, trail of skin he left behind.
Tell him you hurt your boobs. The thought of his tongue swirling around her nipples made her wet.
“Thanks.” She croaked, and yanked her hand free of his. You’re crazy! Give him your hand back. Better still put his head between your legs. Yep, she was a goner.
Sweeping wayward strands of hair out of her eyes, Anne could swear he was panting. The rhythmic up and down motion of his broad chest and shoulders caught and held her attention. Damn, but he’s a fine specimen. And then she heard a low growl. No, surely it was the wind?
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
He saw the art teacher the second she came out the school doors. With her jet, black, pony tail swinging wildly behind her, and the sway of her hips made him salivate. Get on your bike and go home, Mike. Find another tasty chew toy. He didn’t listen and waited for the last of the students to leave the campus grounds before he strolled across the parking lot.
Michael was trying to be a gentleman. But it was damn difficult when all he wanted to do was fuck her right where she stood. And if not for Principle Madison and the janitors milling around, he’d’ve took her on the hood of her car or up against a lamp post. Damn female had him wound up tighter than a jack-in-a-box, and jumping her ass was foremost the single thought on his mind. And then he had a double dose of stupid and licked her. What was he thinking? Sex, that’s what.
The pinpoints of her pupils told him all he needed to know. Human arousal to him was an aphrodisiac, and it took nerves of steel to hold back a howl of triumph. He wanted her and before the day was over, he’d have her body wrapped around his in pretzel fashion.
The only problem was how to explain his slip up. When she pulled her hand away, he accidentally let a growl slip. He’d wanted to suck and lick each finger like a stick of rock candy. And then he found himself holding empty air.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I am coming down with something.” Liar, and then an image of him licking her pussy made him pant. He was desperate to regain some kind of control. But it wasn’t happening and his body burned for her touch. He managed to produce a harsh cough and hoped she’d buy into his fake ailment.
“That’s one bad cough you got there, Michael. And I’ll overlook your weirdness if you let me get in my car and go home.”
“Weirdness, huh…” Lightning flickered across the sky followed closely by a loud thunder clap that cut off his reply. Looking up at the brewing storm clouds, the wolf in him knew instinctively what was coming and warned him to gain shelter. The wolf hated getting wet and before he opened his mouth to caution her, the heavens opened up and pelted them.
“No, my laptop!” she cried.
Michael hurried to help her with the art supplies while she unlocked the door and stowed her computer away. He handed the box over once she was in the driver’s seat and stepped back to let the door close.
Waving with two fingers, he turned and hiked it back to his motorcycle. Today wasn’t turning out how he wanted. He’d let his play thing get away while he sat and sulked in the rain with a hard on from hell.
Copyright 2010 - 2013. All rights reserved. AD Stewart