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Mila was tired as she stepped into her last class of the day. It was hot and stuffy in the classroom as she took her seat in the back of the class. She pulled at her ill fitting uniform, the standard plaid skirt and white blouse, her breasts straining at the flimsy buttons. It was just another thing to add to the list of things she hated about the damn school. It was her first day at Our Sister of Perpetual Help High School and she was miserable from the moment she set foot in the ancient building. She was surrounded by gawking boys and girls who hated her from the moment they saw her stunning face and figure.
She was at least a year older then most of them having spent the last year touring Europe with her mother. Her mother was once a model and having ‘lost her looks’ she still traveled in the circle of the posh Euro-trash. They spent a time in the Riviera, they had “done” Cannes, spent a great deal of time in Crete, and in general partied for 12 months. Her mother, Lalo, having been raised in the Greek Islands said that Mila would receive enough education traveling with her. But Mila knew the truth, she was a good accessory. Lalo was still stunningly beautiful and together the two of them with their flowing auburn hair and green eyes, stopped traffic wherever they went. But that had all ended when Lalo met Paulo, a photographer from Milan. He was stunned by Lalo’s beauty but did not care for her accessory, so Mila was sent to Connecticut to live with a friend of Lalo’s who had left modeling to become a Soccer Mom. She hated everything about Connecticut. The faux culture and elitism put her off immediately. And now she was being subjected to the horrors of Catholic school. She considered herself to be more of a Hedonist but, despite the fact she had turned 18 in August she had to finish school somewhere.
So now she sat in the back row of her Lit class and waited for the day to end. As the other students hustled into the room the scenario was the same as the 5 classes and lunch before. The boys all fought for a seat near her and the girls crowded in cliques away from her ,shooting sideways glances and whispering as only high school girls do.
As Mila wiped the sweat from her brow, closing her eyes against the looming migraine, In walked Mr. Crawford. Mila had been told by the daughter of her host that he was the worst, and that he hated everyone. Though he was one of the few secular teachers at the school he was stricter than any on the nuns or priests. He proved himself worthy of that reputation in the first class. The syllabus he handed out rivaled any the students would see in their senior class or in college for that fact. He spoke in a fierce even tone, as he addressed the class.
” I am not here to be your friend,” were the first words he spoke. “I am here to teach you feeble minded troglodytes a thing or two about literature. There will be no more Danielle Steele or Dr. Seuss we are going to study Literature, not pansy pop culture garbage.”
“I do not tolerate excuses. Each assignment will be turned in on time and it will be graded accordingly. Any assignment receiving a grade of B+ or less will be redone.” These comments were met by a series of grumbles from the class but Mila sat silent. She was intrigued by this man. He was the first sign of intelligent life she had seen since arriving it Connecticut.
He was about six feet tall with salt and pepper hair. She guessed him to be around forty-five years old. He wore stereotypical professor clothing. A charcoal blazer with elbow patches and black trousers, a crisp, white shirt and a black and gray tie. His eyes seemed to match the gray in his jacket. His face had a look not so much of age but of experience. Mila smiled to herself knowing that this may be the only ray of light in what was going to be ,she thought, a very dismal year.
They spent the rest of the class covering the syllabus and rearranging the seating. Mr. Crawford wanted them to be seated alphabetically. So, Mila Angelos who had been comfortably seated in the back of all of her classes was sent to the first seat of the first row. No sooner had she dropped herself into her new seat then the bell rang. The plethora of kids ran for the door but were stopped short by Mr. Crawford. “Do I look like a bell?” he asked directing them back to their seats. Mila who had not left hers was surprised to hear her name. “Miss. Angelos since you remained seated you may leave.” Mila rose slowly form her chair and straightened her skirt. She grabbed her bag, a multi-colored back pack she had gotten in Crete and walked to the door. The silence in the room echoed in her ears as she walked to the door. She could feel the eyes of her class mates piercing her back. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she finally made it to the door. Once in the hallway she ran out the first doors she could find and reached into her bag for a cigarette. Slowly her classmates began filing out the doors. The boys all looked at her, their eyes filled with the lust of teenage boys. The girls mumbled about her under their breath. “Bitch…teachers pet…kiss ataşehir escort bayan up”
Mila tried to block out the sounds of their laughter. She knew when she came to Connecticut that it would be difficult but now more so then ever she longed for home. Not so much her mother or the partying lifestyle but the quiet days she had spent in Crete before coming to the states. She closed her eyes and tried to bring herself back there in her mind. The clarity of who she was seemed to come out in the crystal Mediterranean waters. She longed for the sounds of village women calling out to her from their carts in the market. The smell of wild fennel and fresh basil that filled the air. The olive trees and vineyards, the beach at Balos. All of these things had become home to her and now she was stuck in the intolerably benign landscape of Connecticut. Where no one called your name, gave you fresh flowers, or even talked to one another. The kids she had met were just that kids. They were rich, snotty, brats with too much time and not enough intelligence. She had been in Connecticut since the end of July and all she had seen was a bunch of keg parties in giant homes. She had spent much of her time alone. She had gone to New York once, to the museums. She also spent quite a bit of time painting. She had hoped school would occupy some of her time but the classes she was taking were a joke, with the exception of literature. There was hope there at least.
Mila opened her eyes, which brought her crashing back to the reality of Connecticut. She took one last drag on her cigarette and leaned to put it out. At that moment Mr. Crawford came out of the doors beside her. She quickly snuffed out her cigarette and began to walk away.
“Miss. Angelos,” he called after her. She stopped and turned to him. “Smoking is prohibited on school grounds.” He stated flatly. He looked at her and waited for the response he had grown used to from the teens he taught. Mila looked like a deer caught in headlights.
“I’m sorry,” she offered “it is so strange getting used to being back in school. It will never happen again, I assure you”.
“I hope so.” He smiled, evidently refreshed by her honesty. She began to walk away He called after her again, “Miss. Angelos, wait.” He ran after her. “I have read your file. I was wondering if we could talk sometime, about your travels.? I spent some time in Europe myself a few years ago.” Mila uttered a startled “Okay.” They stood, awkwardly silent for a moment and went their separate ways.
Over the next three months Mila got adjusted to how things were going to be. She had made a few acquaintances, no one of any great importance. She begrudgingly went to dances and carnivals. She would tell Lalo when she called that she was trying but that she couldn’t wait to return to Crete. The only happy thing she had found was Mr. Crawford. Each Wednesday they would meet for tea. It started as brief interludes in the classroom. They would exchange pleasantries a bit of conversation. It became regular they would meet after class on Wednesdays, sitting for hours, lost in conversation, till they would have to leave when the school was closing. They would walk together despite the late autumn winds biting at them. Eventually their walks led then to Jared’s home. It was a simple New England colonial. The traditional four over four design. It looked as though it had been lovingly restored in exact detail. They would sit in the library and discuss everything from Paris to Poe. Mr. Crawford, or Jared, as he insisted she now call him when they were out of class was so different then anyone she had met. He reminded her of the men in Europe. He was cultured , sophisticated and passionate.
Often he would let her read the poetry he was working on. She seemed to forget that he was so much older then her, or that he was her teacher. He on the other hand never forgot. He was always on his best behavior, she could tell. And though she was still a virgin she knew that he wanted her. After spending so much time with Lalo and her “friends” Mila knew the look of lust. She knew that he was exerting a tremendous amount of self control. In class during tests he would walk up and down the aisles and he would always stop at her desk. He would put his hand on her shoulder and let it linger for a moment longer then necessary. But Mila adored the attention. She loved knowing that he wanted her and she would subtly tease him. Wearing her skirt shorter then usual, ‘forgetting’ to wear a bra under her white school shirt. Often when they were reading together at his house she would let her legs fall open slightly and watch his gaze drift from the pages of his book to the soft flesh between her thighs. She enjoyed their games. But to her it was so much more. She was beginning to fall in love with him and she knew in her heart he felt the same way. She knew by the way he touched her arm, by the way he looked into her eyes as he read the poems of Longfellow and Dickens. But she also knew that he was extremely disciplined. That was part of the game he liked escort kadıöy to play with her. He liked to be stern with her in class and then be comforting and reassuring when they were alone together. She thought he liked to see the panic in her eyes when he would scold her for a less then perfect assignment. Then on Wednesday he would hold her hand across the table as she tried to perfect it. Reassuring her how talented and bright she was.
It was all a game to him and she knew it. She remembered Lalo once telling her “There are two types of men. Those who want control and those who want to give up control.” She had added “That goes for the bedroom as well as the boardroom.” Mila knew that Jared was searching for control. Not in a negative way, it was just a game and she loved giving him that control. It gave him a spark in his eye, and it gave her a thrill in her soul.
It was a long, cold winter. Mila dreamt everyday of Crete. Of finally being done with school and back on her own. With or without Lalo she could well afford to just travel the rest of her life. She had flown to Milan to see Lalo for Christmas, but returned home early. Lalo was too involved in her own new life with Paulo. Mila spent most of her time with Jared. They went to New York a few times. To the museums and once to a poetry reading in the village. Her always flirting, him always on his best behavior. On New Years eve she had snuck to his house. She wasn’t sure what had made her do it, she just needed to see him. She stood in front of the sturdy oak door for quite some time, listening to the soulful blues that emanated from within. She heard Jared singing along with Billy Holliday and she giggled. Finally she gained the courage to knock. He was drunk after a party with friends. He answered the door in just black cotton slacks. His chest and feet were bare and he held a bottle of champagne in his hand. Mila was taken aback at the sight of him. His hair was ruffled his bare chest generously sprinkled with fine hair. She caught her breath at the sight of him and let out, in a voice as surprised as his look, “Happy New Year” He smiled at her, that drunken wistful smile. “Mila” he said with a smile. “Happy New Year.” Before either of them knew what they were doing, she was in his arms, his naked chest pressing against the warm wool sweater she wore. Their mouths reached for each other. Their tongues touching. Hers tentative, his longing. She tasted the hot passion in his mouth and melted into him. His hands moved up under the wool to the fiery flesh beneath it. It was at that moment he froze. His senses returned and he pushed her away. “God, Mila, I’m sorry. Just go. ” He begged “Please forget this happened I’m so sorry.” She started to protest but left quietly. Tears in her eyes and resolve in her heart. He wanted her and she wanted him and she knew that had to be enough for now.
Spring came late to Connecticut. Mila was overjoyed when the daffodils began blooming. She would be finished with school on May 25th and back on Crete by the 30th. She was torn, though, between the island she had been crying for since July and the man she would be crying for when she left. It had been difficult after that kiss. Jared was distant and awkward at first but things soon returned to normal. She valued every moment with him and as spring became more evident she spent more and more time with him. School had become unbearable for her. She had not made any real friends and she was left sitting alone in study hall and at lunch. The girls despised her and the boys now thought her a snob. She was taunted behind her back and once a girl from her lit class had seen her walking with Jared and had told everyone, adding a few details of course. Jared responded quickly and firmly to her and the Board of Directors with an explanation of tutoring Mila. To Mila he issued a harsh warning of being careful not to be seen coming or going from his house. He also would not let her visit for the month of April. She understood but she was lost without him. Her heart ached for him every moment they were apart. She craved even the simplest touch. Through the weeks she tried to distract herself with studying ,her grades suffered a bit, but May was soon upon them and she was back in Jared’s home and in his arms. When she arrived at his door that warm May morning he had embraced her like a long lost love. She cried and he stroked her hair soothing and admonishing her at the same time. It was the closest they had ever been and Mila was taken in by his scent, his touch, and every fiber of his being. She nuzzled her mouth to his neck and began kissing him. He pushed her away. But not without her becoming aware of the erection he was trying to cover. She knew how badly he wanted her but understood that it couldn’t be. Not now and soon she would go back to Crete and Jared would still be in Connecticut.
They met almost everyday for the first weeks of May. On the weekends she would lie and say she was going to the mall or wherever. They took a day and went to Mystic. She dressed in a small red and black pleated maltepe escort skirt and a black blouse that was almost shear. Jared had kept his eyes on her for the whole day. But he kept his distance. They had walked through the quaint village talking and laughing, feeling at once free and still restrained. When she reached to hold his hand he pulled away. It was all a part of the game they played. Her, the virgin whore and him the saint. While theirs was a friendship so pure the undertones of sexuality enveloped everything they did together.
Back at school the next Monday, Mila sat through all of her classes waiting to be in Jared’s. It was exam prep week and most of the time in her classes was devoted to that. When she walked into Lit class she looked to her classmates and they all seemed to stare at her… more then usual. They were silent but for a few whispers. She looked to Jared’s desk and he was not there. Unusual. The late bell rang and still he was not there. The class began to chatter a little bit more. But no one spoke to Mila, not unusual. Five minutes past late bell Sister Michael Catherine came in and announced she would be taking over Mr. Crawford’s classes till the end of the semester. Everyone looked to Mila with accusing eyes. She began to sweat. All through class she was in some other world. A world that was inhabited by only Her and the clock, which ticked away the seconds so slowly each tick, tick, tick was burned into Mila’s brain. The final bell rang and Mila jumped from her seat. Running for the door stuffing her book bag as she ran. It was only 4 blocks to Jared’s but it seemed to take forever. Her lungs burned with the exertion, her legs felt like they were made of lead. When she finally reached the door she pounded it with her fists calling out his name. When the door finally opened Jared stood before her pale and visibly shaken. He was wearing the suit he’d had on when they first met. In his hand he held a glass of Jack Daniels. He looked at her with eyes so cold it made her heart tear “You shouldn’t be here, ” he said “Haven’t you done enough?” Mila looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?” she asked. Jared started to walk away, closing the door. Mila put her body between the door and would not let it close.
He just walked away saying “Please, just go. I don’t know what you want from me.”
Mila ran after him, tears welling in her eyes. “I want to know why you aren’t teaching any more? Why did you leave and not tell me?”
Jared looked at her glaringly and in the voice he had used that first day in class, cold and unfeeling, he said “You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut could you? I should have known that you were just a child like the rest of them. You seemed so different” He sat in the cranberry wing chair near the table where they had spent so may hours.
Mila began crying hysterically and threw herself to her knees, her hands grasping for him. “What do you mean?” she pleaded “What did I do? Please Jared talk to me.”
Jared spoke with contempt in his voice,” Who did you tell? Huh? Who did you tell about Mystic?”
Mila looked up at him confused. So bewildered her sobbing stopped. ” I didn’t tell anyone” she promised “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t have anyone to tell even if I had wanted to.” Her mind began working, processing his words. It finally dawned on her that someone had found out about their trip to Mystic. She looked up at Jared pleading. “I swear I didn’t tell anyone, What happened please?”
Jared let his eyes fall to the pathetic form curling into his lap. He looked into her brilliant green eyes, rimmed with red from her tears, and knew she was telling the truth. His hands went to her head stroking her hair which was tied in her customary braid for school. In his most soothing voice he apologized and let unfold the events of the day. He had been called to a meeting of the board first thing in the morning and told that they were aware of his inappropriate conduct with a female student. He was shocked and had demanded details and was told that they knew he had been with Mila in Mystic and “also on many other occasions”. He was told that for the sake of the schools reputation and Mila’s ,if he left quietly no one would have to know the details of his dismissal.
Mila looked up to him with astonishment, “And you agreed?” she asked “you let them scare you away?”
Jared just nodded. But he had an odd look of relief on his face “I don’t care about my job. I just wanted to make sure that everything would be easy for you, with only two weeks left I didn’t want to mess up your chances of finishing school. I love you.”
Mila froze at the sound of those words. She had waited so long to hear them she thought she was dreaming. “I love you, Jared.” She finally replied.
They smiled at each other and all the events of the day slipped away. It was just them, back in their own private world. Jared put his hand under her chin and lifted her face , he leaned to kiss her and Mila melted into his lips. There was fire in their kiss, it had been so long in coming that it was like an explosion. Mila’s hands still in his lap, felt his rising erection. Jared pulled away from their kiss and looked at Mila with the sweet evil grin he got when they were teasing one another. He moved his hand from her face to her hair, tugging lightly on her braid.
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