Dude Looks Like a Lady

Miss Sexiness and Her Looks

  Note #6: Guys are not, in fact, insensitive. They have just as much emotion as a girl would, they just learned how to contain it little better than their female companions.

***
   "We will begin class today," all eyes followed her, erm, hips (I guess), hungry for something quite illegal, "with a writing prompt."

  She abruptly turned, catching many lingers off guard and leaving them sputtering in their seats. I smirked. Totally need to learn some tricks from her.

   She paused, lips slightly puckered, and hips cocked in her pencil skirt, one foot tapping absently at the ground, before continuing, "This will not be for a grade," the tension, sexual and nerves, thinned out in relief, "but, I will call you up, individually, to discuss what you wrote, how you could improve, etc."

   She gave the class a stern look, blue eyes challenging, "You will have the first half hour of class to finish this. It must be at least six paragraphs long, three-five sentences, and yes that means completed, in each paragraph. Understood?"

   Dumbfounded nods were given all around.

She smiled, showing off pearly whites, "Good," she then moved quickly down each isle, slipping a small, half sheet of paper on everyone's desk, "as soon as you recieve the paper, you may begin."

  I rumble of flipped papers issued quickly.

I slowly flipped mine over.

  ***

"Mr. Crock?"

  I looked up from my notes (you know, the ones I've been taking for three days now) and, respectively, responded, "Yes m'am."

  She paused, as if thinking over her next words, "I would like to see you after class...if that's alright?"

   Why did it feel like every other guy's stare was directed at me? I gulped, pulling at the collar of my uniform, nodding, "Um, yeah...I mean, yes m'am."

  She smiled, nodding as well.

***

   "M'am?"

She sat at her desk, hazel hair out of its usual bun, and glasses lying on a stack of books, "Ah," she turned, motioning for me to take a seat at the desk closer to her table, "Mr. Crock, thank you for taking the time out of your day to have a small chat with me."

  I tensed, nodding stiffly, "You're welcome, m'am."

She chuckled, shaking her head slightly, "Though it's nice and all that you referred to me that way, I would very much rather you call me Miss Stevens, like the rest of the school body."

  I blushed, eyes looking anywhere but her, "Uh, sorry, Miss Stevens."

"No need to be," she chuckled again, leaning back in her chair, "now, for the reason I called you here. I've read your prompt," she paused, "and I wanted to discuss it with you."

  "But, m-I mean-Miss Stevens," was that some type of pick up line? Wait, why am I thinking like this? Of course it wasn't. She isn't...she wouldn't be...would she?... "didn't we already discuss it during class."

  She nodded, "Yes, but, I wanted to go into further detail about it."

     Crap, I think she is hitting on me. Oh, what do I do? Think...think..."W-what do you mean?"

She smiled softly, elbows on desk and head resting in her palms, "Your writing skills are...well how do I put this...nothing short of amazing."

  I breathed, settling back and smiling bashfully. Thank god she wasn't about to do what I thought she was about to do. That would of been awkward, "Thank you, Miss Stevens."