A Modern Girl

Geometry ended all too soon and the dreaded time had arrived. What would Mr. McClean do? I didn’t know. The uncertainty was so maddening. I slowly walked towards his classroom. Shoot! How could I have done such a stupid thing? Easy, thirty bucks. No, that wasn’t entirely true. I had wanted to do it—to kiss him, to be near him, to have an excuse to do it.

I went down the walkway towards the science wing that bordered the north end of the school. When I got in front of Mr. McClean’s classroom the door was shut. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I could catch my breath before going in without him seeing me. “Joilene!” A couple of boys gave me the “thumbs up” sign. I nodded nervously in return.

“Thanks,” I said as I put my hand on the doorknob. Maybe it would be locked. Maybe he had forgotten. No such luck. The knob turned freely and the latch released. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Mr. McClean was standing at the back of the room rewinding a film he had shown in his last class. I noticed that all of the curtains were still shut. He glanced at me and said with sarcasm, “Miss Jackson, how nice of you to drop by. I’m sooo glad to see you didn’t forget.” I stood where I was and remained silent. “Please close the door and lock it. I don’t want us to be disturbed.”

I cautiously looked around the room as I closed the door. This was much worse than I had thought. I wondered if he would make me write, “I will not kiss Mr. McClean in front of the class,” 500 times on the chalkboard. I locked the door and set my books on top of his desk.

“Mr. McClean, I…”

“Please have a seat.”

I slid into the nearest desk seat. “Mr. McClean I was…”

“Yes?” He swung on his heals and looked at me with those deep blue eyes.

“I was just wondering what you planned on doing, you know…” I shrugged a shoulder.

“Oh, yes…that.” He removed the film from the projector and put it into its case. “What do you think I should do?” I shrugged again. “Tell me,” he said as he carried the film up to his desk and set it down, “what motivated you to do such an act in front of the whole class?”

“Well, it was the money,” I lied.

“Ah,” he nodded as he sat down on the edge of his desk right in front of me and casually crossed his hands over his leg. “And how much did you get?”

“Thirty dollars.”

“Thirty dollars!” he exclaimed leaning forward slightly. “That is a sum. But are you sure it was just the money?” He casually swung his legs.

“Of course,” I said uncomfortably. “What else could it be?” I leaned away from him.

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” I shook my head. “Then let me enlighten you. Couldn’t it have been that you’re, maybe, just maybe now, a little bit attracted to me?”

“No!” I shook my head nervously.

“Come, come now, Joilene,” he stood. “I’ve seen the way you look at me in class.”

“What do you mean?” I stood. Our bodies touched and the electricity was enough to light the whole school.

“It’s ok, Joilene.” He reached out and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me to him. “I’ve been very attracted to you from the beginning of the semester,” his breath was hot in my ear.

“No,” I shut my eyes.

“Look at me,” he pushed me back, still holding my shoulders. He shook me a little until I opened my eyes. “We can’t deny any longer that there are feelings between us.” My head was swimming. “You graduate in five weeks, don’t you?” I nodded. “Then six weeks from Saturday we have a date for dinner.”

“Six weeks?” I felt limp and was amazed that I could even stay on my feet.

“Yes, of course. I can’t date you as long as you’re a student here.”

“Date me?” I felt faint.

“Yes, yes,” He said urgently. “Until then we must pre-tend that nothing has happened. Do you understand?” I didn’t respond. I was very confused. “Do you understand?” He said slowly, shaking me again.

“Yes, of course,” I stammered.

Suddenly his mouth was on mine. His mustache was rough, yet slightly ticklish. His tongue forced my lips apart until they matched his, then it explored my mouth anxiously becoming intertwined with mine. It was only the second time I had ever been “French” kissed. The first time had been wet and sloppy and I hadn’t liked it. This was warm and passionate—well practiced. I closed my eyes and became lost in the sensations that went up and down my back with his hands. Then as suddenly as it had come, it went. Mr. McClean picked up my books with one hand and held them out to me. When I didn’t take them he lifted my hands up around them. I took them. He pushed me towards the door.

“Now remember, not a word for six weeks.” He put his index finger in front of his lips.

I nodded as I put my hand on the doorknob, wondering if my shaking hand had the strength left to unlock the door and open it.