The Teaching Award

God. She was gorgeous. Standing there with that sexy librarian look, slightly embarrassed by the praise she was getting from the superintendent, and I was just grateful I could stare without looking like a creep.

I'd only been at the high school for a few months, brought in last-minute to replace a poor guy who'd suffered a heart attack. I still couldn't believe my luck--landing the job so suddenly and getting to work alongside one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. Cindy, her name was--a stunning brunette with hypnotic green eyes that paired perfectly with the olive undertones of her fair skin and that shapely, graceful figure. She had a way of moving that made even the act of reaching for a marker on the whiteboard seem elegant. As new as I was, I hadn't interacted with her much, but her classroom wasn't far from mine, and we exchanged friendly nods each morning. Just seeing her smile in those pencil skirts and silky blouses she liked to wear was enough to make me feel like I'd won the lottery.

Turns out, she wasn't just gorgeous--she was a damn good teacher. The state had just named her teacher of the year, and the administration brought the whole school together to celebrate. So here we were, listening to all the reasons she'd earned it.

"Give it up for Ms. Ferreira." The superintendent finally said, and the crowd erupted in thunderous applause punctuated by sharp loud cheering and whistling from overly enthusiastic teenage boys. Cindy looked overwhelmed, visibly touched by the room's energy. She managed a few words of appreciation, placed her hands to her heart and blew a kiss to the crowd, a more eloquent expression than any speech she could have given. Clearly the feeling was mutual. The elated crowd began stomping their feet and chanting her name, a rumble that made the gym feel like it might collapse at any moment. I was happy for her.

I wanted to congratulate her personally, but just as the impromptu pep rally dissipated, she disappeared along with the administrators. Another opportunity lost, I thought.

"Hey, Scott do you want to go to Z's? A bunch of us are going down to celebrate with Cindy." The invitation came from Laura, my teaching neighbor, a bubbly blonde I'd been playfully flirting with, almost from my first day on the job.

Sensing my hesitation, she insisted, "C'mon, it's Friday. What else are you going to do?" She had misread my reluctance. Normally, I would have jumped at the chance to get drinks with Cindy and the group--I was just not eager to do so with Laura there. But lacking a good excuse, I let myself imagine the best possible outcome, smiled, and agreed to join. She was delighted.

We grabbed an uber along with three other teachers. Unfortunately, none of those included Cindy. Instead, I found myself sitting in a cramped backseat with Laura. I was beginning to wonder if Cindy would even end up at Z's with the rest of us when I heard Laura say to the driver.

"Can you turn down the AC, a little bit. I'm getting cold back here"

She then turned to me in a half whisper:

"My legs are freezing. Look."

She grabbed my hand and caressed her thighs from the edge of her skirt to her knee.

Surprised by her forwardness I mumbled a yeah and took away my hand away as discreetly as I could. Playful flirting was one thing, physical contact was another. Sure she'd be fun in bed, I thought, but I had a feeling that she would not just want to keep things casual. Plus, I really was trying to concentrate on Cindy at the moment, I had to figure out what those possibilities were first.

We got to the pub and there were already like 8 people with Cindy. It was loud, and even more crowded than I expected. Definitely not the kind of setting I had envisioned. But there was alcohol, a live band, and more importantly, potential--however small--so I promised myself to have a good time regardless.

Laura, on the other hand, found the setting exactly to her liking. Beyond flirting, she "accidentally" kept rubbing against me and surreptitiously angling herself so I could get a generous view of her cleavage. It really was tempting. I needed to get some self-control, so I excused myself to the bathroom. But then, when I came back, she was gone. At first I thought she might also have gone to the ladies' room, but after like 15 minutes it began to dawn on me, she was not coming back.

"Hey, what happened to Laura?" I asked the other teachers.

"I don't know man. She just said she had to go and looked quite upset."

What? And you didn't offer to go with her?

They shrugged.

Now genuinely concerned, I texted her:

"Is everything ok?"

It took a while, but a curt response finally came.

"yeah. Tell you about it later."

Relieved, I debated heading out. But before I could, the crowd around Cindy thinned, and she signaled at our group to come over. Before I knew it, there were ten of us, shifting stools and dragging chairs to squeeze into the corner of the bar Cindy had claimed. It wasn't ideal--half of us were half-standing--but it was enough. She was right there, close enough for me to catch the light, citrusy scent of her perfume and see the faint freckles on her collarbone.

She laughed at something someone said--some inside joke, clearly--and turned to grab a drink from the new round the server had brought, brushing past me as she did.

"Hey," she said, smiling politely, probably trying to remember my name.

"Scott," I offered quickly.

"Right, Scott. The new guy." She nodded, then added apologetically. "Sorry, I'm terrible with names."

"No worries," I said, trying to sound casual even though my heart was doing a small, embarrassing drum solo in my chest. "I've been meaning to say congratulations. Teacher of the year--that's amazing."

"Thank you," she said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Honestly, I still can't believe it. I thought it was a mistake when I first heard."

"It's not," I said, maybe a little too quickly. "The kids love you. Everyone clearly does."

She gave me a modest smile and looked down for a moment before taking a sip of her drink. "You're sweet."

That "sweet" lingered. It wasn't flirty exactly, but it wasn't dismissive either. I couldn't tell if I was being politely acknowledged or invited into something more... tentative. She turned slightly toward me, propping an elbow on the table.

"So, how are you finding Jefferson High so far? Still surviving?"

I laughed. "It's been a blur, honestly. New names, new routines... but yeah, I've been lucky. Everyone's been... really welcoming."

"Well, that's good to hear." She clinked her glass gently against mine. "To surviving your first semester."

We both drank, and for a second, the noise around us faded, or maybe I just stopped hearing it. I was too focused on the way her eyes lingered just a second longer than necessary. And then someone else interrupted her again--a waiter calling out an order, a clatter of glasses from the next table, someone tapping her shoulder to show a message on their phone--and the moment scattered like a stack of graded papers caught in a breeze.

The night wore on. Our group got smaller and smaller until it was just the two of us and a quiet, drunk history teacher asleep in a booth.

"I think I'm done," I heard her say, finishing her last drink and slipping on a light jacket. "Want to share an Uber?"

I nodded before I even considered the logistics. "Sure. You live near the school?"

"Five minutes." She gave me that smile again--the one that didn't seem entirely professional. "You?"

"Ten, maybe twelve. A little out past the park."

"Perfect. I'll drop first."

We stepped out into the thick night air, and she leaned into her purse, phone out, summoning the ride.

"You okay with sharing, right?" she asked, though the answer was obvious. I wasn't about to let her go now, not while the night still had some breath left in it.

"Of course."

The ride was quiet, mostly. A tired playlist playing low. Her hair brushed against my arm at one point, and neither of us moved. When we pulled into her street, she leaned forward, squinted at the house numbers.

"This is me." Then a pause. "Do you want to come in for a bit?"

She said it lightly--casually--but there was a shift in her voice that told me she didn't ask everyone that.

I didn't pretend to hesitate.

"I'd like that."

She gave the driver a quick thank you, and we got out. Her house was a small brick bungalow, modest but warm looking, lights already on in the front hall like it had been waiting for her to come home victorious. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding it open behind her.

"Shoes off," she said gently. "I just got the floors redone. The polish is ridiculous."

I toed off my shoes and followed her into the living room. It was cozy. Bookshelves full, candles here and there--most unlit--and a couch draped with a thick knit blanket that somehow looked both decorative and well-used. A couple of student-made art pieces framed on the wall, a cat tower in the corner, though no cat in sight.

"Drink?" she asked.

"Sure. What's on offer?"

"I think I have wine, bourbon, or something vaguely tequila-adjacent."

"Wine sounds safe."

She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two glasses of a dark red.

"To making it through pep rallies and pub nights," she said, holding her glass up.

"To green eyes and good teachers," I replied.

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "That was borderline corny."

"I meant every word."

We sat at first keeping a polite distance. But conversation was easy--classroom stories, nightmare parents, the kid who once submitted an essay with a meme as a conclusion. Time blurred.

At some point, she tugged her legs up under her and turned fully toward me on the couch.

"I didn't expect tonight to end this way," she said.

"Good or bad surprise?"

She studied me for a beat. "I haven't decided."

I smiled. "Still time to make a better case."

We sat in that quiet electricity for a long second.

Then she leaned in.

Her kiss was unhurried--confident but careful. When we finally pulled apart, she didn't speak right away. Just brushed her fingers lightly down my jaw.

The kiss deepened--slow at first, curious and searching. Her lips were soft, her body warm and alive against mine. I could still taste the red wine on her breath, feel her fingers threading gently into my hair as we leaned in closer. Her other hand drifted across my chest, her fingertips tracing the buttons of my shirt, the heat of her touch saying more than words could. I matched her pace, letting my hand settle at the curve of her waist before sliding up her side, feeling the quiet tension building under her blouse. She shifted, swinging one leg over my lap, straddling me now, her knees sinking into the couch cushions as her blouse brushed open at the chest. I kissed the skin exposed there, between her collarbone and breasts, and she exhaled sharply, her breath catching as her fingers clenched tighter in my hair. Then she kissed me again--this time deeper, harder, desperate, as if needing to anchor herself to me in the moment. Our mouths moved urgently, her fingers clutching my hair with a fierce need that matched my own. I was getting dizzy with lust as she ground herself against me, eager, shameless in the way she sought my arousal.

And then--she slowed. Just a little. She took my hand and guided it with quiet intention, charting a path from her waist to her hips, then across the slick fabric of her skirt. When I slipped my hand beneath it, she let go, lifting her own hand to my cheek.

As I let my hand wander farther--curious, wanting--I felt it. Something unexpected. The firm, unmistakable outline of a penis beneath the silk of her panties. Cindy leaned into my touch, pressing herself onto the cup of my hand. Her green eyes stayed fixed on mine, unblinking. She held still, letting the moment stretch long and silent, her face unreadable except for a small flicker at the corner of her mouth. And then, finally, she whispered:

"I wanted to tell you. I'm... not like most women. But I am a woman."

My pulse raced--not from shock, but from a wave of desire so sharp it was almost painful, not just from the trust she had just given me, but also the fact that none of this changed how much I wanted her--how drawn I was. I moved to kiss her again, a deep, lascivious exploration of her tongue. When I pulled back I murmured against her lips. "You're beautiful. All of you."

Her eyes dark with intent, she returned to my shirt, unbuttoning it with a teasing patience, leaving a trail of kisses down my chest. Then without missing a beat, she made quick work of the top button on my jeans and slipped a hand eager to find my dick while her lips went back up to mine. Her touch was electric, every movement dangerously close to bringing me over the edge. Struggling to regain some control, I unfastened her blouse, uncovering a silky bra to match her panties, wrestling with it until I was able to liberate her breasts, a pair of perfect mounds crowned by pink areolas that stood out against her skin in open invitation. I began giving them my full attention, encouraged by her soft moans, breathy and unrestrained.

She seemed to come undone beneath my mouth, her back arching, her legs tightening around my hips. There was something unguarded in her pleasure--raw and real--as if she hadn't let herself be touched like this in a long time, or maybe ever. She wasn't holding back anymore. She was feeling everything.

Time stretched and blurred until without a word she suddenly pulled away rising to her feet with the effortless grace of a dancer. She took my hand and led me toward the bedroom, the flickering candlelight bouncing around the curves of her body. Eager with anticipation, we undressed each other, finally removing any barriers between our skin. I'd dreamed of this for months, but the sensation of her cock pressing against mine hit deeper than any fantasy ever had. It was hotter, dirtier, better. Her breath hitched as we pressed together, and I saw something flicker in her expression again--that wild, uncertain joy of being wanted exactly as she was.

Then Cindy brought us together with one hand in an expert grip, stroking us to the edge of ecstasy while she nibbled lightly at my neck. I clutched her ass, trying to stay grounded as the pleasure surged. But I was already unraveling. If I stayed like this, I wasn't going to last and I wanted to taste her. I wanted to know what it would feel to really explore her body. I towered over her ever slightly, so I grabbed her hips, gently pushed her onto the bed and dropped to my knees between her legs. The darkness draped her in shadows, but the shape of her cock stood out, throbbing with anticipation, framed by curves so soft and feminine they almost didn't seem real. Wanting to give her every ounce of pleasure I could, I kissed along the inside of her thighs first, slow and hungry, letting her hardness press against my face. She let out this low, needy sound that made my dick twitch. I wanted to hear more of that.

When I finally brought my mouth to her tip, I licked her slowly, savoring the sharp, salty taste of her. Then I took her in, letting the weight of her fill my mouth. She wasn't overwhelming in size, but I still had to adjust, easing her in with care. I could feel the pulse of her against my tongue, feel the tension coiling in her legs as I began to move. I tried to make up for how much of a novice I was, by letting her body guide me, paying attention to the way she gasped when I swirled my tongue, the way she arched when I sucked just a little harder, giving her everything I had. Her moans got louder, more urgent, her hips rolling into my mouth in slow, desperate movements. Her fingers tugged at my hair again, not rough, but firm. I stayed with her, lips sealed, letting her fuck my mouth just enough to give her what she needed without losing the tenderness in it, and then it happened. A sticky gush and a cry of pleasure rewarded my efforts. It was unbelievably hot.

When she finally caught her breath, she leaned in and gently wiped my face with her hand, then kissed me softly, purring into my lips, "I think it's your turn."

We traded places, her body sliding over mine, eyes locked with that same hungry intensity. And then I felt her mouth on me -- warm, deliberate, almost reverent. I'd never been touched like that -- like I was something to savor, to study. Her green eyes never left mine as she took me in, slow and unrelenting, lips sliding down and back in a rhythm that made it hard to think. I wasn't going to last, not with her mouth gripping me like that. But I didn't want it to end too soon either. I wanted to burn this into memory -- every flick of her tongue, every teasing pause, every shared breath heavy with want.

She worked me like she already knew every button to push--teasing just enough to keep me on edge, then pressing harder when I started to tremble. I groaned her name, and she answered with a deep, satisfied hum that vibrated through me. My hips twitched. Her hands gripped my thighs, holding me down--firm, in control. Every time I thought I was about to lose it, she'd ease off just enough to keep me aching. And then, finally, she took me deep--slow, smooth, like she was claiming me--and something inside me came undone.

I let go with a cry I barely recognized as my own, hips rising into her mouth, the release more intense, more overwhelming than anything I'd felt before. She didn't pull away. She stayed with me, let me ride it out, swallowing every last tremor like she was drinking me in.

When I finally came down, heart still pounding, she crawled up beside me and kissed the corner of my mouth. I could taste myself on her lips -- sharp and warm, softened by her. She smiled like she was proud of what she'd just done. Maybe she should've been.

I looked at her -- flushed, glowing, chest rising with each breath -- and all I could think about was how much I still wanted her. Not just her body, but the fire in her, the confidence, the way she touched with purpose and care. I reached for her again, voice still ragged. "I'm not done with you."

She smirked, biting her lip. "Good."