The History Teacher

He pressed her to the wall, causing her to drop her books, letting them clash against the ground.

"You're so innocent and fragile..."

His voice. So sweet and so hot at the same time. Slowly, his hand traveled up her hip, caressing it.


She stammered, trying to escape his gaze, only to have him grasp her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"Frannie, why do you tease me so much?"

A small, glint in the girl's eye.

"I'm sorry sir, I-I..."

The sound of footsteps rang in the distance. He would back away from her, fixing up his suit and fading into his classroom just as the teacher rounded the corner -- leaving the girl scrambling for her books.


3. - The Completed Essay and Some Snappy Comments -

                 The end of School bell echoed around the classroom, leaving all the students to ditch their well-deserved essays on their desks and hurry out of History class.

        Frannie, like any other day, still sat at her desk, writing away.

        She was usually the last to leave, seemingly because of her passion towards the subject, and how much her mind held. If she wanted to, the white-haired girl could even write a whole book simply about one topic in History, having such a keen eye to it. But obviously, that wasn't something she'd do. Frannie would take the care and time to write about every single topic she wrote. Not too surprising, was it?

        Anywho, she still sat, finishing off the last paragraph to her work, strands of loose hair sweeping over her eyes. It had been happening throughout the day, her hair covering her features and preventing her from seeing [partially]. She hadn't even taken a hairband or clip to put her hair
up, and keep it out of the way. You could only blame her for that.

        "Fran, the Bell's gone, you know that, right?" Her Teacher,
Mr. Brooke, had finally spoken up, after only minutes of watching the girl write. Well, he always watched her write away, finding her as a mystery to solve, her hand flowing against the paper. At his voice, she jolted, her hand dropping the pen. There was no way of getting back into her writing trance anymore, then. She leant forward, grasping the black pen, and moving the strands out of her freckled face.

        "Yeah, I know. I was just finishing off my work..." Answering was simple, keeping the conversation going, was not. Did nobody
ever  understand the trouble of talking?

        "Oh. Okay.
Sorry Fran." There was an awkward silence from then.

        Frannie looked down at the paper, her eyes scanning the two-sided sheets, filled to the max. There were still a couple lines left for her to write on the last page, to conclude the whole piece. But she just couldn't focus, after all, her spell had been broken into two. She heaved a sigh, and closed her eyes, dropping her head into her hands, and thinking. More strands covered her face, shielding her from the light. A sudden movement behind her, forcing the 'Nerd' to open up her eyes, and look to the side, only to find her History teacher right behind her, his hand placed on the rim of her chair, the other on her desk. He looked down onto her piece.

        She could already tell that he was picking out every single mistake placed in the writing, and
criticizing her work. That was what teachers were for, right?

        "Fran, are you thinking about taking up History for when you're older?" The question came out of random, honestly. She didn't expect to have him ask her that, although she was already in Year 11.

        "I was thinking about it, though I might decide to focus on English Literature, Drama, Triple Science and Geography. I have many more possibilities coming from those four, rather than History. Though I could always become-"

        "A History Teacher." He finished her sentence naturally. As if it was usual for a male Teacher to finish his Student's sentence, especially not about the work itself, but the Student. And that was exactly what caused a long shiver to run down her spine.

        "Y-yeah." Stuttering, was that the usual?

        "Honestly, though, Fran. I'm surprised you're not focusing on History. You've got much better levels at average throughout the whole year in it, than in any other subject." Now, that was creepy. As far as she knew, only the Headmaster had access to those types of records. Unless the Teacher's exchanged knowledge in their lounge... Ah, fuck.

        "I know, but I have a much better chance of making a living off of those four subjects, rather than History. A Historian makes from forty thousand to sixty thousand per year, whilst an actor, for example, makes about eighty-nine thousand per year. That's twenty-nine thousand more, from the highest salary for a Historian." Yes, she knew all this. How? It's called research.

        "But then you take a Weatherman. How much does he make? About fifty-one thousand dollars per year. A journalist makes from twenty-three thousand to seventy thousand per year. But that depends on the thing they're writing about too. From where I'm standing, your best chance is a Historian and judging by your writing, I think you'd be able to make much more than just sixty thousand a year." Now, that was a good counter. It required Frannie to keep her mind a bit more focused, as a good comeback formed in her mind, like puzzle pieces in a fun puzzle. Pushing her glasses up, she looked down at the piece, ignoring his hand; that had mysteriously glided a bit closer to her body on the chair; speaking.

        "And how much do you make within a year?" The sudden comment quite clearly caught her teacher off guard, his eyes widening ever so slightly. It was very obvious that he didn't expect the comment to leave Frannie's mouth. He didn't expect a lot of things, actually. Her eyes glided up, locking with his, allowing him to notice the little specks of ice dotted within them. "As far as I know, you don't make much, sir." The word sir... Was she taking her cockiness a bit too far? Maybe. Oh well, Fran didn't mind staying in history class a bit longer. After all, she still had to drag her ass to her dad's car. And her father was waiting for her outside in the School parking lot, with his girlfriend. She almost gagged just thinking about the two.

An awkward silence filled the air.

Suddenly pushing the chair back, Fran got up, forcing
Mr. Brooke to remove his hand from her chair, and stagger back. Within seconds, she picked up all her things, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. "Look, sir... I have to go. My dad's waiting for me outside and just..." Her voice died out at the end, as she knocked the History book off of the table. Goddamnit. Quickly leaning over to grab the book, something stirred her backside, a little wind flying past her. This caused her to jolt up, finding Mr. Brooke right in front of her exit. Well, in front of the side of her desk, which was the only way out from her seat. And he'd brushed her ass when moving from her other side. Giving him the book she had picked up, Frannie looked up at him. "Sir, I need to get out... Could you move?" He obliged, stepping out of her way. "Please, don't forget to mark it." There was another quick silence.

"I won't, promise, Fran."
Mr. Brooke looked at her, his eyes taking a short journey around her body, before returning to her eyes. "Anyway, run along. I wouldn't want your father complaining about me keeping you back." There it was, that sudden but winning smile, his pearl teeth bearing in front of her. She headed out, towards the door. A halt, as she looked back, her eyes keeping to the classroom ground.

"I'm so sorry about what I asked. I shouldn't have done that." The Nerd pushed her glasses up further, moving a strand of hair behind her ear, her whispering faint, almost blown away by the wind.

"It's fine, Fran. I like girls with a good amount of wittiness." He winked.

There was no hesitation in her as she hurried out.

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