It was a boring class as usual, a Monday afternoon, and I was almost tearing my eyes out. The teacher was going over the marks we'd gotten on our most recent essays, droning on in his thick British accent about how we could have made them better. I knew all the shit back and forth and inside out and was almost ready to fake a brain aneurysm just to get out of there. I was lost in a daydream, thinking about how the big red ‘A’ on my paper looked a lot like an upside down thong, when he suddenly called on me.

“Mr. Mitchell did fairly well. Perhaps he would be kind enough to assist you with your next draft.”

“Huh?” I said.

“Miss Lawsen failed the assignment, my dear boy. Would you be a gentleman and go through her work with her, assisting her in the areas she's having trouble?”

“Well I'm no star student either,” I answered. I was of course, in that class anyway, but I didn't want to seem like some kind of nerd or anything.

“You're passing, and Charlotte is not. You'll do just fine, if you're up for it.”

She turned around and cast a heart-stopping gaze upon me. She nodded subtly and flared her eyes at me, telling me to say yes.

“Sure,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. An erection threatened to spring up in my pants.

Jimmy gave me a thumbs up and grinned as if to say, “You lucky bastard!”

“What do you think, Charlotte? Will Mr. Mitchell be able to show you a thing or two about English Composition?”

“He can show me whatever he wants, Mr. Ericson.”

There were snickers and woo-hoos at that, but the teacher hushed us all.

“There you have it then.”

And then he went back to his lecture, but he glanced over at me with a raised eyebrow that seemed to say, “I just did you the biggest favor of your life, kid. I hope you're thankful.”

Teacher’s pet indeed. Thank you, Mr. Ericson.

I floated through the rest of the class in daydreams of the incredible sex I might end up having, little realizing that that one incident would change my life completely.

When class was finally over, Charlotte stopped me on my way out.

“Anthony! Wait up!”

She quickly gathered up her books and said goodbye to Gerri the next seat over.

I waited, willing myself not to shake in my shoes like a little boy. She hurried up to me and threw an arm around my shoulder, as if we were life-long friends.

“Whatever can I do for you, Miss Lawsen?” I said, doing my best impression of Mr. Ericson’s British accent.

“I’m so absolutely delighted to make your acquaintance, Awnthony,” she responded, doing an impression of her own.

Wow! What a rack she had on her. I’d never seen it that close up, practically pressing into me from the side. It was dazzling. But her eyes were stunning as well, once I looked into them.

“So we're study buddies it seems.”

“We are. Though I still don't know what's so special about me.”

“Well we'll find out won't we?”

“I guess so.”

Charlotte stopped by a water fountain and took a drink. Suddenly her lips were wet. They glistened. She saw me looking, and smiled. Then she gave her lips a little lick.

“So how do you wanna do this?”

“The Library? After school?”

“Sounds awesome! Meet ya there. 3:25.”

Then she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek and I felt her soft wet lips for the first time. I was instantly slain inside. It was a one-shot kill. But I managed somehow to give her a cool smile. She walked away, her ass swaying in a mind-numbing strut in those skin-tight jeans of hers.

Then she was gone around the corner. I went straight into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face to try and calm myself down. What the fuck was I gonna do? I could barely even look her in the eye! How was I gonna tutor her? I was horrified and elated beyond belief, both at the same time.

Two classes later, I met up with her in the library. The place was empty except for a bookish-looking girl who picked out a couple of hardcovers, checked them out, and left.

The first study session with Charlotte seemed to go by in mere minutes. We grabbed a table near the back and she sat quietly while I read over her essay. We were supposed to write about an important issue in today’s society, citing at least one element of irony at some point in the work. Charlotte’s wasn’t terrible. I mean, I could see why she failed it, but I could see what she was trying to say at least, and she did have some good points. She’d written about how young women are so fashion conscious, more so than men usually, because they use costumes as an outward extension of their inward identities. But then she went off into a tangent, discussing the irony of how the more confidence a girl has, the less clothing she wears, and how the insecure girls will often bury themselves under layers of clothing to cover over their perceived flaws. Then she tried to conclude with a paragraph about how clothing is an inverse metaphor for a woman’s self-esteem. That’s where it all fell apart.

“You’ve got two different essays here, Charlotte. Do you see what I mean? It starts out talking about one thing, and it ends on a whole other topic. They’re both good points, and well stated, but there’s no consistency. And if I know Mr. Ericson, he’s all about consistency.”

“I was so tired.”

She sat staring at me. Her feet were up on the rung between the chair’s front legs, her chin was on her hands, her elbows on her knees; she was painfully distracting. I lost my train of thought. I just wanted to do nothing but stare at her all afternoon.

“You just gotta make sure that you end with what you started out to say, and you’ll at least pass.”

“Can I read yours?”

“Sure, if you want.”

She picked up my paper and began reading it.

“A, of course.” She smirked at me. I almost shuddered. That frickin’ smile of hers was deadly. “Looks like I landed the right partner.” Then she continued reading.

My essay was about how romance is slowly dying out in our culture as a result of increasing focus on material possessions, how the divorce rate is so high because everyone’s working themselves to death just to get more possessions and not spending enough time on the things that really matter—love, romance, friendship. I began with an introductory paragraph that included an example from real life, I expanded into three main points with examples of their own, and finally concluded with an argument that society will one day be full of miserable people surrounded by wealth and riches, but not really having any other point to their lives other than owning them. It was a textbook example of proper essay format, and I’d stuck to my main arguments all the way through. The irony was that though we work ourselves to death in the pursuit of happiness, the things we really need the most are totally free.

“This is absolutely beautiful!” Charlotte said.

“Well, that’s supposed to be how it’s done: topic paragraph, listing three main points, then explaining those points, then-”

“No, I mean what you wrote here. It’s so true! There’s not enough love in the world.”

“Nope.”

“And you’re right, in the end, it’s all gonna be just a bunch of people, owning just a bunch of stuff, the economy will be booming, but no one will be happy. The more possessions we have, the more isolated we become.”

“In a way, you sorta said the same thing in your essay, except you were talking about clothes, as opposed to possessions in general, and young women, as opposed to society as a whole.”

Charlotte picked up her paper and looked at it again, as if she’d never seen it before.

“You’re right! It is sorta the same thing.”

“You just gotta tighten it up, slip in a main idea, work around that, and bring it to a nice conclusion. Slick, easy, and sweet as pie.”

She was staring at me, looking like she was in a daze all of the sudden.

“What?” I shifted uneasily in my chair. A weird, nervous smile spilled across my face.

“God, you’re sexy.”

Those three little words hit me right in the gut. Boom! If it wasn’t for gravity holding me to the chair, I think that comment would have knocked me backward, right though the wall behind me.

“Uh… thanks.”

“Tighten it up, slip in a main idea, work around that, and bring it to a slick and easy climax. I’ll remember to do that next time.”

I swallowed hard.

“I didn’t mean to sound pervy. It just came out wrong.”

“You go ahead and be as pervy as you want, Mr. Mitchell. It makes studying a lot more interesting. If you want to talk about slipping things into my easy little pie, you go right ahead.”

I couldn’t believe she was looking me in the eye when she said that. My erection was now throbbing hard inside my pants. I could barely keep from running out the door and jerking off in the nearest bathroom stall. She was cool as a cucumber though.

“Are you okay?” she asked me, smiling cutely at the dumb-struck look on my face.

“Yes. Very okay.”

“Me too.”

“Anyway. Let’s look at your essay and try to figure out what your main idea is, and then we’ll come up with three points to prove the argument, and a nice tidy conclusion.”

“Let’s do that, sexy. But I have to run and phone my mom. She’s probably wondering why I’m not home yet. I’ll be right back.”

She got up and I watched her walk away. Her ass in the jeans gave my intellect another pummeling. I was reduced nearly to a drooling Neanderthal. Prolonged exposure would be enough to give a healthy young man a heart attack. A girl like that ought to come with a warning label. She glanced back over her shoulder and caught me looking. She grinned and blew me a kiss.

Now I was painfully hard, and my cock was bent sideways in my jeans. I glanced around and saw that nobody was looking, so I unzipped my pants and pulled it out, right there in the library. The librarian was pouring over an old reference manual behind the counter by the main doors. Other than her, I was alone. Ouch! Was my dick ever aching! I slouched down in the chair and let it breathe for a few minutes, hiding it under the desk, and then I adjusted it again, into a more comfortable position, and zipped up my pants again.

Charlotte came back, and she was humming happily to herself. She parked her cute little butt down in the chair and just stared at me with a sweet dreamy smile on her face. Her cheek was tilted down across her palms and her hair spilled off her shoulder down into her lap.

“I’m back, sexy.”

“I noticed. How’s yer mom?”

“Awesome.”

“Cool.”

“How’s yours?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t called her. She works in the evenings sometimes. I never know when she’s gonna be home.”

“Cool. What’s she do?”

“She’s a nurse. What about yours?”

Charlotte changed the subject, but I honestly didn’t even notice. She grabbed up her essay and looked down at it, flashing her eyes up at me from over the top edge of her paper. Another circuit fried in my head. Those eyes! They were enough to nearly stop your heart, I swear. How much more of this could I take?

“So where were we?” she said.

“I dunno. Where were we?”

“I believe you were talking about sliding something into my sweet easy pie.”

Pow! Another punch in the tummy. She was like a prize fighter with that steady barrage of emotional and sexual wallops. I was getting punch drunk without her even laying a finger me. It felt like a gong going off inside me when she blurted shit out so bluntly like that. I shivered.

“You’re gonna have to stop that, dear Miss Lawsen. I’m having trouble concenstraighting here.”

“Concenstraighting? Oh my god, you’re so cute!”

“Sorry. I meant to say thinking straight, but then my mouth went into concentrating at the last second. You’re messing with my head.”

And I blushed like a little boy. It didn’t help that my dick was painfully hard in my jeans as well.

“Sorry,” she said, smiling a coy little smile. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

Finally we got down to work.

I began to get a sense of why people liked her as much as they did. She had a way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the world when she was talking to you. Her eyes locked onto yours, she listened intently, nodded and smiled, and then offered you feedback about what you had just told her. It was like she genuinely cared about what you had to say, no matter how trivial it was. It was very comfortable.

At one point we got up and walked over to a book shelf to grab some reference material on the various costumes of different cultures. We were standing there in front of the Anthropology section and she made a joke that had me grinning like a idiot.

“Anthropology: the study of men. Sounds like that’s right up my alley.”

“You’re funny.”

“Did you know matches were invented by a guy who was trying to convert piss into gold?”

“How the hell did he figure he could get piss out of gold?”

“Because of the color.”

“That’s hilarious!”

“It is. The irony is, the original formula he came up with for white phosphorus was actually worth more than its weight in gold. People were buying it by the pound. True story. A guy told me all about it once while I was blowing him.”

Then I really laughed out loud. The librarian looked over and shushed me. I honestly wondered how a man could even speak in complete sentences with a girl like Charlotte going down on him. I got the idea she may have been just kidding, but I wasn’t sure.

“I gotta ask you, Charlotte. You seem bright and intelligent enough, smarter than a lot of other girls I know anyway. How did you fail this thing in the first place?”

“Okay, you really wanna know?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You asked me not to talk sexy. You’re having trouble concenstraighting.”

“Oh. So it’s one of those stories.”

“Yup. One of those. I failed because I was up ‘til two in the morning fucking this guy named Danny.”

Our relationship had apparently deepened, to the point where it was now okay to talk freely about sex. Suddenly I wasn’t shifting uncomfortably anymore.

“Wow. Danny, huh?”

Lucky bastard!

“Yup. Danny.”

She said his name with a sigh.

“I sure hope the guy was worth it,” I said, tapping my pen on the D- at the top of her paper.

“Oh, god! Don't get me started on how worth it that guy was!” She lowered her tone, glanced around, and then looked me straight in the eye, grinning. “He was so good at going down on me, that I swear my fucking ass just about fell off when I came.”

I just stared back at her, struck completely dumb. I honestly had no idea what to say in reply. And I was hard again too, instantly, painfully hard in my pants. My only thought was grabbing her, throwing her over a table and just fucking taking her right there and then, and a really big part of me honestly believed she would not have objected at all. Charlotte stared back at me, looking like she was seriously wishing I would throw her over a desk right then. And we just stared into each other’s eyes.

 “Say something, Anthony.”

“Your ass seems fine to me,” was all I could think of. I was sure she heard bullshit like that all the time, and I was kicking myself inside for using such a cheesy line. But she never batted an eyelash in objection.

“Why thank you, Mr. Mitchell. You're so sweet.” She reached down and rubbed her hand across her ass and jiggled it a bit, making my jaw tremble a bit from self-restraint. “I don't get as much exercise as I would like, but I've got a sex life that's as good as a regular workout, and gym class seems to be keeping me in fairly good shape.”

“That it is. Definitely. You’ve got every hormone in my body in a five-alarm riot. But you don’t really need me to tell you so, do you?”

“Yes, I do,” she answered. “Tell me so as often as you can.”

“But why? You’re so beautiful it makes me ache. Look at me: my hands are shaking.”

She didn’t look. She scanned over the book shelf, reached up, and took one. Her hands were shaking a bit too.

“I don’t know why,” she said. “All I know is it’s making me wanna rape you and run away like a scared little girl at the same time, every time you say something sweet and sexy to me.”

“I’d prefer option A.”

“Then just keep up the sweet talk, baby.”

I scanned across the book shelf as well, trying not to stare, not to leer like a lecherous asshole. But she was so screamingly beautiful: well-built, neither too fat, nor too skinny, she had a flat little tummy, and great legs too, but by far her finest feature was her ass, beautiful round, and firm beneath the jeans and skirts she wore. In second place were her breasts, round jiggling globes of delicious female flesh that drew your eye no matter which angle she stood at. Her hair was a golden blonde color, interwoven with darker streaks, some honey-colored, some amber, some almost sorta pinkish when you looked closely. It was dazzling. It flowed down her back, almost down to her ass in long wavy strands that ended in angelic little curls. Then there were her eyes. All I can say is wow. Looking her in the eyes was like trying to stare directly into the sun. I couldn't do it for more than a few seconds. They were just too intense.

I knew all of these things from memory though. I’d been staring at her for the past hour now, and I almost had her memorized. I didn't even have to look at her. I wanted to, but I didn't. I think she knew I was thinking about it though.

I was about to bring the conversation back to the essay, but she suddenly reached out and grabbed my hand. It was the first moment of intimate contact between us and it was intense.

“Anthony.”

“Yes?”

“I’ve got something sweet to say to you now.”

“What’s that?”

“You make me nervous, and giddy, and shaky. I’m usually strong and confident and carefree. But I gotta admit, I’m seriously flustered here for some reason. Why do I feel like a nine-year-old girl standing before her first crush when I’m with you? Why do I feel so naked?”

Silence. Dead silence. I was struck dumb by the softness of her voice, and the touch of her hand. Finally I looked up from her delicate little fingers caressing mine, and stared back into her eyes.

“There it is again!” she said, and she looked away, covering her eyes with her other hand like a girl in a horror movie. But her grip tightened on my hand. “Okay, wait. I’m gonna try this again.”

She looked back into my eyes. Now my heart was pounding so hard I felt like my head would pop. Of course I was speechless once again.

“This is supposed to be all about lust. Why are you so damn sweet?”

“Well to be honest, Charlotte, it's hard not to be sweet to you. Everything people say about you is true. You really are awesome.”

Somehow I managed to maintain eye contact with her as I said that, though my heart was beating like a jackhammer the whole time. It took a lot of courage on my part, but I just had to say what I felt. She deserved the compliment.

“That's wonderful of you to say. I always thought that most people just think of me as a silly little slut.”

She said this calmly, and I found that a bit surprising. There wasn't the slightest hint of self-consciousness in her tone.

“Well, yeah, most people do think of you as a slut, but, not in a bad way. They admit you do, uh, get around a bit, but for some reason, nobody has anything against you for it. Every guy I know wants to get with you, and every girl wants to be you. You're like a celebrity, or something.”

“And what do you think, Anthony?”

Her eyes were so blue I felt like I was swimming in them. I had to remind myself to breathe.

“I think that you're one of the nicest people I know. It's no wonder everyone likes you as much as they do. I'm just surprised more people aren't completely in love with you.”

She squeezed my hand harder than ever, shaking once more.

“Now that's definitely the sweetest thing you've said so far.” She let go of my hand and turned back to the bookshelf, breaking the intense gaze we’d been sharing. “Honestly, Anthony, I asked Mr. Ericson before class if you could tutor me. He suggested Rhonda Hinkle, but I begged him to pick you instead. I've wanted to get to know you for a while now. I just never had the chance. Now I'm so glad I have. You’re blowing me away.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling the hot, unrestrainable blush on my face. I felt like I was naked, under a spotlight, with all the world watching. It was just her though.

“And it’s not just your sweet words either,” she continued. “This essay you wrote, I was even telling my mom how awesome it was when I talked to her on the phone. She says you sound like a keeper, whatever that means. I guess she thinks you’re cool too.”

She’d told her mom about me. Wow.

“Your mom sounds nice.”

“I think you’d really like her.”

“Well, if she’s anything like you…”

Uhg! That sounded like such a line. As soon as I said it I felt like an idiot again, but she just stared at me some more, blushing a little. But then a strange change came over her, and suddenly she was less nervous and girly and more hungry and intense looking. I almost backed up a step. It was overwhelming, like standing too close to a fire.

“I can’t believe you’re single,” she said. And then she released a heavy sigh. “But I’m so glad you are. It means the Charlotte Lawsen Classy Slut Rules don’t apply to you, and I can do this…”

She stepped right up to me, pressed her chest into mine, and gave me another kiss on the cheek. It wasn't a quick peck that time either. It was a slow lingering smooch. She kissed me like she really meant it. And when she was done, she didn’t back away. She kept her cheek right up against mine, eyeing the librarian. I swooned inwardly, and released a slow sigh to ease the tension.

“Wow!” my brain said, but I was struck dumb once more.

And then she reached down and gave my package a tender little squeeze, almost knocking me off my feet.

“Next time we're studying at your house, okay?”

She whispered it in my ear, and I felt her tongue flicker out and tickle my earlobe when she did. All I can say is oh my fucking god! How I managed to restrain myself is beyond my comprehension. The floor, my mind screamed, right here on the floor. You could be inside her within fifteen seconds, stroking and sliding in and out of that puffy little mound of hers. Or up against a book shelf! You could take her from behind, and the librarian wouldn’t even notice!

But though my lusts rioted like an angry mob inside me, I was above that kind of reckless trashiness, and I honestly hoped she was too. Something like that would have reduced me to just another one of her meaningless fucks, and I really kinda liked her.

“It’s not study you have in mind, is it?”

She shook her head. She licked her lips. She slid her hands up my body and shivered a bit.

“Uh-uh.”

And then she sucked my earlobe into a wet slippery kiss that sent shivers down my entire being. Her nipples were hard. I could feel them against my chest. I pressed my hands against her shoulders, pushing her away a bit. She released my ear with a slippery snap. Her gaze burned into me. Why aren’t you taking me and fucking me right here and now!? her eyes seemed to say. She actually looked as panicked with lust as I was. But there was something more than that as well, and it seemed to be scaring her.

“Okay. Next time, we’re at my place then…”

“Okay…”

I couldn't feel my legs. I felt like I'd been cut in half at the waist and twisted around a few times. My turn had finally arrived. I would soon be fucking the legendary Charlotte Lawsen.

We headed back over to our table and tried our best to concentrate on the essay, but it was a lost cause. Both of us were too wound up now to even speak. We just sat there leafing through the books and nervously pointing out funny looking outfits people had on. Finally Charlotte got up suddenly and hurried out of the room.

“I’ll be right back. I gotta take care of something.”

I watched her go, and while she was gone, I released my cock from its denim prison once again. Throb!

Charlotte came back a few minutes later, looking flushed and glowing, and more than a little shaky. She was a lot more giggly now too. She sat down and sighed.

“I feel much better. Suddenly I can concenstraight again.”

I looked at her funny. She didn’t just go and-

Charlotte nodded at me, reading my mind, and then slowly slid a finger into her mouth and sucked on it, gazing directly into my eyes. Damn!

“Yummy…”

That’s it! I’m taking this hot sexy little bitch to the nearest bathroom stall and fucking her like a rubber bunny up against the wall. Right fucking now! I don’t care how cheesy and low-class and meaningless it is. I gotta have her! No more fucking ar-

“Time to go, kids,” the librarian said.

We snapped out of our mutual daze and realized we’d been staring at one another for almost an entire minute, just silently daydreaming our respective dreams. Thank you, Mrs. Librarian! The timing could not have been more perfect. I was literally seconds away from actually jumping up and just going for it, and that would have ruined everything. We would have fucked, dirty, and sexy, and meaningless in a bathroom stall or something, and that would have been it. It would have been just all about lust for her, as usual, and she would have moved on to her next conquest within a week. But it didn’t happen that way, thanks to the librarian.

“Okay, so you’re gonna have to re-write this. Get it fixed up and hand it in to Mr. Ericson. Do you want me to go over it when you’re done?”

“N’ah. I should be able to manage it. But we got this other one coming up that you can help me with. Let’s walk.”

We gathered up notebooks, pencils, and school bags, and headed for the doors. Somehow, in a total daze we wandered over to Charlotte’s locker, and she put her books away. We pretty much babbled at one another the whole way, I don’t even remember what we said. It took her like three tries to open her lock and she finally got her books put away. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling. She was walking kinda funny too. But that was understandable, having just come from a frantic little bathroom masturbation session less than ten minutes before.

“Walk with me to the front door?” she said.

“Sure.”

We went, still babbling, but she took my arm and we walked slowly, talking about stupid stuff like the French fries in the cafeteria, and the ugly orange chairs and lunch trays. Then we talked about the Spring dance that was coming up, how cool the last one was, what kind of music we liked. When we finally got to the front door, it seemed like we’d been talking for ten hours, and at the same time, it felt like only twenty seconds. I didn’t want her to leave just yet. I didn’t want her to leave ever. The fresh air cleared my head a bit though, when we finally stepped out into the cool spring afternoon.

“That’s my mom over there,” she said. “I hope she hasn’t been waiting long.”

She was parked in a red convertible. The top was down. All I saw was beautiful blonde hair, just like Charlotte’s.

“Library closes at 4:30. It’s 4:35.”

“So like, only five minutes then.”

“Yeah.”

“So, bye. I hope I was able to help with your essay.”

“You did. Thanks.”

She was backing away. I was standing there with my books wanting to rush up and kiss her, but I didn’t.

“Uh! Silly me! Let me give you my number, kay? Call me and we’ll set up a time.”

She scribbled her number on the back of her essay, right behind the D-, and she tore it off and gave it to me. Then she kissed me again, this time on the lips. No serious make-out kinda kiss or anything, just a really slow, sweet smooch that teased me with how gorgeously soft and tender and slippery her lips were.

Her breath tasted like berries!

Then she backed away again.

“Okay, good luck with the re-write.”

“We’re meeting at your house next time, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Goodie. It’ll be awesome!”

Finally she turned and hurried to the car. Her hair bounced and her butt wiggled. She hopped in beside her mom and waved back at me. Then they were gone.

Damn, she was beautiful! I wanted to write poems about her, to immortalize her in the history of the world as the most beautiful woman who ever lived. She made me tingle just looking at her. I had only one thought in my mind: rushing home and masturbating until I exploded all over the damn ceiling, all about her. I wanted nothing more than to lay her down on my bed and fuck that tight little body of hers until she screamed.

I couldn’t wait for our next study session.

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