Stirred Up

Stirred Up

Isabel Morin

Copyright 2013 by Isabel Morin

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the
U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be
reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any
means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the
prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places
and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or
persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition

For Michael, always.

My sincere thanks to Abigail Strom for being
a critique partner extraordinaire, Katy Wight for designing the
cover, Alexandra Mandzak, Vristen Pierce, Audrey Berns and my
mother for their editorial help, and Joe and Amy Canata for
answering my questions about teaching. It takes a village.

Cheryl Munro sat in her little red Miata,
breathing deeply as she tried to get up the nerve to enter
Henderson High. If the girls at the club could see her now, they’d
keel over with amazement, or maybe laughter.

She was a stripper, for God’s sake. She
wasn’t afraid to take her clothes off and dance in front of
hundreds of people, so surely teaching a bunch of high school
students wasn’t beyond her?

At this point it didn’t matter whether she
was ready or not. She needed to get out of the car before she was
late. Checking her reflection one last time in the visor mirror,
she grabbed her messenger bag and headed for the front doors of the
ugly stucco building.

It was too early for any students, but a few
other adults were heading to the door as well. Cheryl smiled at
them and hoped she didn’t look as conspicuous as she felt. Could
they tell by looking at her that she was new to all this?

Get a grip, Munro
, she ordered
herself.
You can do this.

The trick was not to let on how nervous she
was, or how lacking in confidence. That would just make others
question her competence.

She pulled open one of the heavy glass doors
and held it for the person behind her, a smiling woman in her
mid-fifties with warm eyes.

“Are you a new substitute?” the woman asked
as they both passed into the foyer.

“I’m doing my field hours here this
semester,” Cheryl explained.

“Oh, how wonderful,” the teacher exclaimed.
“I’ve had a number of Nevada State students in my classes over the
years and I’ve always enjoyed it. Who are you partnered with?”

“Jason Shaw.”

“You’re in luck then. He’s one of our best.
Lots of energy, too. Not like us old folks.”

“That’s really good to hear, since I’m pretty
much at his mercy for the semester. Can you tell me where his room
is?”

“Head up that staircase and turn right. His
room is just a few doors down on the left. Number two-twelve.”

Cheryl thanked her with perhaps too much
enthusiasm and then followed the woman’s directions, her feet
slowing as she neared the classroom. The door was open, the light
on, and she could hear the unmistakable sounds of someone writing
on a chalkboard.

God, she loved that sound. When she was a
kid, she’d sat through every class hoping the teacher would let her
write on the board. For her ninth birthday she’d received a
child-sized chalkboard they sold at the local toy store. But the
chalk wasn’t the same. Instead of the silky smooth writing of the
school chalk, the toy chalk had hard bits that made it move
haltingly over the board. Whenever she’d played school, using her
teacher voice as she lectured one of her friends, the chalk always
reminded her it wasn’t the real thing.

She smiled at the thought of how much money
it was costing her in tuition just to get the good chalk. Then she
got a look at Jason Shaw through the doorway and all thoughts of
childish frustrations evaporated.

This
was the teacher she was
partnered with? Since when did hotties become high school
teachers?

She stared at him as he stood in front of the
blackboard, frowning down at a piece of paper in his hand. He
looked to be around thirty, tall and lean, his blue button-down
short-sleeve shirt revealing strong forearms, his khaki pants
displaying long legs and a fine ass.

For some reason it had never occurred to her
that her supervising teacher might be this young, not to mention
unmarried, if his ringless finger was any indication. Probably most
women would be thrilled, but not her. Even men who should know
better ended up hitting on her, and her stomach sank at the thought
of having to deal with that on top of everything else this
semester.

The object of her disappointment looked up as
she took a few steps into the room, surprise and then pleasure
showing on his face. Wiping the chalk on his pants, he walked
toward her with an easy stride.

“Cheryl Munro?”

His eyes were a warm brown, and they crinkled
at the corners as he smiled at her. The unforced charm took her by
surprise.

She cleared her throat. “Yes, that’s me. It’s
good to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand firmly in an effort
to telegraph that she was all business and not to be trifled
with.

“Come on in and we’ll get started.”

***

Jason tried to cover his amazement as he
showed Cheryl around. It was a bit harder to do once he’d pulled a
chair next to his desk and they were sitting down.

“So this is your second semester in a school,
is that right?” he asked.

He knew for a fact it was, but it seemed
easier for the moment to start off with the simple stuff. She
seemed pretty nervous, and he was a little taken aback himself. He
didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t someone who
looked like her. What were the students going to make of having
such a beautiful woman in the classroom?

“Yes, that’s right,” she replied, seeming to
relax a bit. “But the last semester was purely observational, so
I’m looking forward to the hands-on experience.”

“You’ll definitely have plenty of that. Our
classes keep ballooning in size, so it’ll be a big help to have you
around.”

He grabbed a folder off the desk.

“You speak Spanish, right?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m not completely fluent yet but I’m
comfortable with native speakers.”

“Great. I have a few Spanish-speaking kids,
so you’ll be a big help with them. I can’t always tell when they
don’t understand me and most of them don’t speak up when they’re
confused.”

She leaned forward, her green eyes, which
tilted up just a bit, holding him in her gaze.

“That’s exactly why I decided to keep up with
my Spanish,” she said. “No one wants to pay for special classes for
these kids, but that only sets them up to fail in English-only
classes.”

Her cautious demeanor was gone now, replaced
by obvious passion. In fact, she radiated it. Then she seemed to
realize how forceful she’d been, and she blushed and sat back,
subsiding into a more reserved pose.

According to the file he had, she was
twenty-six, though she was so small – no more than five foot two –
it would have been easy to mistake her for younger. She wore a
simple black skirt and royal blue blouse, the kind of thing any
teacher might wear. Her red hair was pulled back into a low
ponytail, and if she were wearing make-up, it wasn’t noticeable. He
got the sense she was trying to tone her looks down, but even so
everything about her was startling, begging notice.

Unlike many redheads, she had fair skin with
only the lightest smattering of gold freckles across her nose and
cheekbones. Her cheekbones followed the line of her eyes, making
her look faintly exotic, like one of those troublesome faeries in
Scottish stories. And she was Scottish. She had to be with hair
that red and a name like Munro.

He felt the slightest stirring in his groin
and immediately turned back to the file, though he wasn’t really
seeing it.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, though in
truth he’d forgotten exactly what they were talking about.

He opened his lesson plan and pulled it close
so that she could see it as well, trying not to think about how
good she smelled, or how inviting her wide, lush mouth looked,
especially when she nibbled on it.

She crossed her legs and leaned forward, her
arm brushing his.

“So you’ll be here Tuesdays through
Fridays?”

Cheryl nodded. “I need to get as many hours
in as possible, because I graduate this semester. I’m hoping I can
teach in the spring, if I pass the Praxis exam.”

“In that case we’ll make sure you get lots of
time in front of the students. We’ll start this week with you
observing, but we’ll discuss the lesson planning together and you
can help me grade. Next week you can start teaching a few classes,
and after a month we’ll have you teach at least one class a day.
How does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect,” she said, and he
couldn’t help smiling at her excitement.

It was nearly seven-thirty, and the usual din
began in the hallways. Locker doors slammed, kids shouted, and soon
they began filing into the room and slouching into their seats.
Most of them had their phones out and were busy surfing or texting.
He let them do it in homeroom, but he had a no-tolerance policy
during class.

The bell rang and he closed the door. Kids
were talking amongst themselves, but a number of them were looking
at Cheryl and whispering. Before he could explain who she was,
Kevin, a good-natured loudmouth, called out.

“Hey Mr. Shaw, who’s that? Your
girlfriend?”

The whole class erupted in laughter and all
eyes were on him and Cheryl. Well, he’d blown that one. He ought to
have quieted them down and explained immediately.

“This is Ms. Munro. She’ll be here every
Tuesday through Friday for the rest of the semester. She’ll be
helping students one on one as well as teaching. Everyone settle
down now so I can take attendance.”

They were a decent bunch of kids and quieted
down quickly enough, though they kept looking over at her and
whispering to each other. He’d have to do a better job the rest of
the day so the students weren’t so distracted. Even so, it would
probably take a few days of having her around for them to get
accustomed to her presence.

As for how long it would take him, he had no
idea.

***

So her mentor was a fox. Big deal. She was
totally immune to men and their supposed charms, so it wouldn’t
affect her in the least. A girl couldn’t strip for four years and
still go all gooey about men. Which was why she was so annoyed with
how her heart sped up when he smiled at her. It was ridiculous.

Probably every female student, and some of
the male ones, were crushed out on him. She sat at the back of the
classroom in order to observe the whole class – and be less of a
distraction – and by third period he’d confirmed her impressions of
him. He was articulate, funny, and excited about what he was
teaching. He even made diagramming sentences seem more like a fun
puzzle to be solved than a chore.

There was a reason women always fell for
their English teachers. Teaching English made men seem sensitive,
caring and emotionally intelligent. She’d once thought all those
things, only her crush had been a sexy grad student teaching the
required composition course her first year of college.

Good thing she knew better now. No doubt
Jason Shaw was a decent guy, but men were never as sensitive or
caring as they first seemed. There was nothing wrong with a little
fantasizing, so long as the girls didn’t let it get out of hand,
but she had no business thinking about him that way, not if she
wanted to actually learn something this semester. Straightening in
her chair, she tuned back in to his discussion of the basic
structure of an essay.

She spent the day like a fly on the wall,
glad she wasn’t expected to do anything. Even just observing left
her overwhelmed by how much she had to learn. When the final bell
rang she slumped in her seat with a deep sigh.

“Okay so far?” he asked, sitting down at his
desk.

Embarrassed, she jumped out of her seat. The
last thing she wanted was for him to think she couldn’t handle the
first day.

“I’m fine, thanks,” she said, walking over to
him. “Slightly overwhelmed, but in a good way.”

“Any questions?” he asked, pulling a pile of
what looked like quizzes toward him.

“No, but don’t worry, I won’t be shy. I’m
sure I’ll have plenty before long.”

“Fair enough,” he smiled, then rubbed his
eyes. “I think I need some coffee before I dig into these.”

Cheryl stepped back as he stood up, even
though she was already a few feet away from him. Why did he make
her so nervous?

She cleared her throat. “Can I help you with
anything?” she asked.