Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 140940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
As if she could not take it anymore, Lunita slowly left the room.
I swallowed. “What else did Felicity say?”
M kept the chalk on the board and mimicked a feminine tone. “But you know, Emily, I’m your teacher, and you’re my student. There are rules about these things. And besides, you’re a very young girl, and I’m an adult. It’s important to keep those boundaries clear.”
“What did you say to her?” I asked.
“I laughed, a strange, hollow. . .laugh. . .and said something about age being just a number. I told her that my cock was huge and could pleasure her. Brash, I know, but. . .she looked like she was about to vomit.” M stepped back from the board. “I saw the pity in her eyes. It was worse than anger or annoyance. That was when. . .”
To my surprise, Pavel watched him. “When what?”
“In a display of true romance, I rounded her desk and tried to kiss her.”
I stiffened.
“She screamed and called Mr. Henderson, the school counselor. When he arrived, they talked quietly in the corner of the room. And. . .I felt everyone’s eyes on me, and the weight of their stares and then. . .”
“Yes?”
“That is all I remember. Someone else must have taken over.” M dropped his hand to his side.
The piece of chalk left a trail of white dust.
I turned back to the board.
The rose—with its petals entwined with words—now looked like some symbol of aching love.
M kept his back to me. “They put me in a new class. Maybe Mr. Henderson saw me as competition. I saw the way he looked at Felicity when he entered the room that day. He saw what I saw. Beauty. The possibility of love.”
Fuck. What will I tell my mouse?
“Days turned into weeks, and I couldn’t shake off the feelings. They were like a song stuck in my head, playing on loop. I found myself lingering near Ms. Felicity’s classroom more than necessary, watching her laugh and teach, and when she caught me watching her. . .she would look away.” M glanced over his shoulder. “It was like a game, a secret only her and I knew about, a silent dance between what was appropriate and what was yearned for in the shadows of our minds.”
Pavel looked at me. “I think. . .we have enough clues.”
M placed the chalk back and walked away from the board. “I started to visit places I knew Felicity would be at. She loved this one park with flowers that matched her eyes. There was also a cafe where she sipped coffee. Although I watched her from afar, we were on adventures together, exploring the world side by side.”
His voice faltered for a moment, before he pressed on. “Felicity stopped staying late after school. Soon, her car began to be the first to leave the parking lot. But I knew she was just being. . .shy. Playing. . .hide and seek.”
I blinked.
“Then one week, she was no longer at school and I had to leave and go right to her house. Something could have happened to her. I needed to save my sweet love.”
Pavel widened his eyes. “You also knew where she lived?”
“The commute from Harlem to Westchester County varied from 30 minutes to an hour by Metro-North Railroad.” M wiped the chalk dust off his hands. “She had a small, cozy place, with curtains that reminded me of her dresses. That afternoon, I watched her through the kitchen window.”
Pressure built in my chest.
“Felicity saw me, of course and. . .”
I was on the edge of my seat. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” M shrugged. “I have no idea. I just know that a substitute teacher took her place for the rest of the year and her absence was. . .a loud, echoing silence. The magic was gone.”
But, what happened to Felicity?
“I tried to find her,” M continued after a moment, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I visited her house repeatedly, but it seemed abandoned. Her car was never there. The curtains that reminded me of her dresses were perpetually drawn. It was as if she had evaporated into thin air.”
Pavel exhaled sharply. “Did you ask about her at school?”
M shook his head. “No, I didn’t want to draw attention. A grown man asking about a teacher who he was supposed to be assessing. . .that would not be ethical.”
I blinked again.
“I have published a lot of books of poetry talking about our love, and every book I dedicated to her.” M’s eyes watered. “I wonder if she has bought them. . .read them. . .does she think about me at night when she is alone in her bed. . .does she touch herself to my face? My voice?”
I had no idea what to say. In fact, I now understood why Lunita did not want us to bring her name up.