Nikki and her Teacher

• Nikki and her Teacher
  
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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 with 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.