Jobs (18+) | a series of One-shots ^^ On-going, never-ending ^^

Act 5 - The Teacher

Act 5 – The Teacher

If you want to be my pet, don’t bring a red apple. Just drop trou, and give me your candy apple.

~ Tealia Buecher

Oxblood. A shade of red mixed with maroon. Some people say it’s a color to pay homage to the menstrual cycle, but to me it’s one of the most beautiful shades of crimson. It’s simply beautiful.

It’s the color I’m wearing now as I sit in the classroom, with one particular student who I teach after class hours, “As you can see, English is not the only subject we can use for you to learn the language. Speech is all about speaking, regardless of the item being talked about. Are you finding our sessions helpful in the pursuit of your goals? Or would you like us to stretch your personal syllabus to accommodate just a few more?” I ask, and the response I get is an expression of deep thought, or maybe she’s a very good actress who knows when to look serious.

“Well. I don’t really know other subjects to add to my syllabus. But what I’m after is to learn how to speak properly and not sound like shít. Like I want to know difference between pull out and pull off so people at work will not fúcking laugh at me.”

Okay, full of personality this one is, “Is their treatment of you brought about by stress, or intimidation?” I raise a brow to punctuate the bold question.

“They think I’m Satan’s daughter which I don’t have problem about because I think I am…” she states blandly like it’s a truth, but then she recovers and laughs slightly at what she mentioned, “…you’re a very good teacher, Ms. Tealia. Why did you leave Denmark? You are beautiful woman. I’m not lesbian but I find you really attractive girl.”

She doesn’t realize it but the conversation we’re having now is already part and parcel of her training. I think she’s a fast learner, “You are not so bad yourself, Morrigan. You’re actually the most beautiful Polish woman I know. I left Denmark because I got tired of it. You know, when you grow older you start thinking about other places far from where you grew up. It’s almost natural that we find greener pastures to milk new cows,” I hope she understands why I skewed my metaphor with an innuendo. It’s one of many ways to learn English. Studies have shown that learning, when combined with sex, makes the learning curve that much shorter.

She laughs at my statement which could either be two things: one, she gets the joke, and two, she doesn’t get it and thought it’d be polite to guffaw just to hide her shortcoming.

“You are very funny, Ms. Tealia. Yes I like it in America because of greener pasture and there are many men to milk like cows,” Good. She’s learning. I think I have found my approach with this one. I’ll be using sex with her as a teaching instrument. She looks at her watch and frowns, “Fúck. I need to work in an hour because my boss told me he will pay for my classes but I’m not excused from work. He is a fúcking animal you know? But he is a cow and I milk him so it’s fine,” she winks, and I think I understand what she is trying to communicate.

I stand and lean over the desk to shake her hand. She extends her reach from where she is sitting while her other hand is busy thumbing her cell, “It’s nice meeting you, Morrigan. So that ends day two. Same time, same place tomorrow?” I ask her and she curses at whatever it is she’s reading on her phone, “Is everything okay?” I ask, concerned about her predicament.

“O, nothing. Just my boss Nathan, he is … what’s the word I use? Itchy?” she giggles and I mirror her emotion, genuinely pleased that she’s finding it easier to choose her words.