The Schoolgirl Ch. 01

"Emmy! We're going to be late!"

Emelie squealed sheepishly, and she quickly shoved her books into her bag and slammed her locker shut.

"Emelie! Hurry!" Shelby shouted. Emelie pulled her backpack over her shoulder and ran towards her best friends.

"What took you so long?" Tessa asked. Emelie sighed heavily.

"I had to wait for that guy David to finish helping me with that stupid assignment. I had no idea what Carlisle was asking for!" Emelie complained. Georgina laughed, brown ringlets bouncing.

"I didn't even bother with doing it, I don't know why you did," she said. Emelie giggled.

"Well unlike you, Georgie, I actuallywant to pass this class," Emelie replied.

The girls laughed as they continued to tease each other, pulling the door open to the classroom. They took their usual seats in the left corner of the back row.

Mr. Carlisle walked in a few moments later, and everyone was immediately silenced.

Emelie's heart always raced with an odd, erratic tremor whenever Mr. Carlisle walked into the room, despite the fact that he'd been her teacher for almost a month now. There was just something so frightening and unsettling about him. From his deep voice to his cold gaze, everything about him filled her with nervousness.

"Settle down, all of you, and pass your assignments to the front of the class," he said, removing his jacket. Emelie reached into her hot pink binder and pulled out the worksheet she'd finished just minutes before. It was crumpled and rushed, and she hoped Carlisle wouldn't notice that there were clearly two distinct sets of handwriting on the page.

Emelie looked up and realized that David, the honors student who'd been helping her, was staring at her from the front of the classroom with a hopeful smile on his face. She'd been afraid of this.

She gave him a weak, friendly smile in return, hoping to discourage him from thinking he had any kind of chance with dating her, just because he'd helped her with one assignment. Emelie wasn't the kind of person to lead a guy on fortoo long, even if she could benefit from it.

She heard her phone vibrate in her purse, and Emelie's attention was immediately diverted. She crossed her legs and reached for her phone, giddily responding to the text she'd just received.

It was from a guy named Jake, a sophomore at the nearby state college. They'd exchanged numbers at a sorority party Shelby's older sister had snuck the girls into the Saturday prior, and Emelie had been anxiously waiting all week to hear from him.

"Is that Jake?" Shelby whispered. Emelie looked over to her friend and nodded, eyes bright.

"The college guy?" Tessa asked. She was the only one from the group who hadn't been able to attend the party.

Emelie feigned innocence and nonchalance as she shrugged her shoulders, eliciting excited and jealous squeals from her friends.

"Ladies," Mr. Carlisle said coldly. His low, deep voice made Emelie's spine stiffen in nervousness. The girls snapped to attention.

"Something you'd like to share with the class?" he asked. The girls all shook their heads quickly and simultaneously. Emelie noticed that despite the fact that he was addressing all four of them, his fierce gaze seemed to be locked on hers.

"Pay attention to the lecture. As I was saying..."

Emelie exhaled and rolled her eyes, continuing to text.

"That was close. He's so mean!" Georgina whispered. Emelie nodded in agreement.

"I know, and did you see the way he was staring at me? God, it's not like I killed someone," Emelie whispered back, opening her latest message from Jake. Her eyes widened in excitement when she read what it contained, and she couldn't help but smile in delight.

"What did he say?" Shelby whispered. Emelie looked at her friends, trying her hardest to contain her excitement.

"He asked me out!" Emelie whispered back, beginning to type her reply.

"Miss Woods," Carlisle said coldly. Emelie was engrossed in the conversation she was having with Jake, and didn't hear her name called.

"Miss Woods," Carlisle repeated, louder this time. Other students began looking to the back of the classroom at Emelie, who still remained oblivious.

"Miss...Woods," Carlisle repeated, his voice louder and deeper. Shelby hit Emelie's arm, and Emelie's head snapped up. She realized almost every pair of eyes in the classroom was on her. But no one's eyes compared to the cold, penetrating gaze of her professor.

Immediately, her palms began to sweat.

"Umm...yes sir?" she asked timidly. His face was cold, fixed, and hard.

"Since your intellectual aptitudes apparently merit a complete lack of attention to my lecture, perhaps you can dazzle the rest of the class with your brilliance. Stand up," he said. Emelie bit her lower lip, hoping he was joking.

"Sir, I—"

"Don't keep us waiting, Miss Woods. Stand up," he repeated firmly. Emelie looked over to Shelby, whose hazel eyes were sympathetic.

Not knowing what else to do, Emelie stood up on shaky legs.

Mr. Carlisle removed his glasses and folded his arms, beginning to pace in front of his desk.

"No need to be nervous, Miss Woods, we'll start with something easy. Thoroughly identify this piece," he said. He pressed the button on the slim silver remote that operated the screen at the front of the classroom, moving his presentation to the next slide.

Emelie was completely stumped. She'd certainly seen the piece somewhere before, but in her current state of nervousness, she was incapable of thinking clearly.

"Give us an answer, Miss Woods, it's an easy question," Carlisle pushed. Emelie moistened her lips and began looking from side to side, hoping one of her classmates would whisper an answer for her. They gave her sympathetic looks, but no one spoke.

"Umm...what do you mean by...thoroughly identify?" she asked softly. A few people in the class chuckled, but Carlisle was not amused. He looked colder than ever.

"Give us a title, an artist name, if available, a time period, historical context, a medium, it's current location...any kind of information would be helpful," Carlisle elaborated.

Emelie sighed heavily and stared hard at the photograph of the piece on the screen. To her, it just looked like a broken old statue. She thought that it looked similar to a sculpture she'd seen at the Louvre while vacationing in Paris with her parents, but she hadn't been paying much attention.

"Umm...it's a Greek statue," Emelie said eventually. Carlisle stared at her blankly.

"How astute, Emelie. Care to impress your peers with even more information?" Carlisle said sardonically. Emelie bit her lower lip as she felt her face turn hot from embarrassment.

"Umm...it's made of marble...and...it doesn't have a head...so that means it's probably really old...and it has wings...so it might be a Greek goddess?" Emelie offered quietly.

"That's all you can come up with?" Carlisle asked. Emelie's lower lip began to tremble as butterflies did flip-flops in her stomach.

"I...I'm sorry, sir," she said timidly.

"Sorry is not going to make you pass the A.P. Exam, or this class for that matter. Now put your cell phone away and pay attention to this lecture. And I'll be seeing you after school for detention," Carlisle said coldly, before continuing with his discussion on "The Winged Victory of Samothrace."

Emelie's jaw dropped in surprise. She knew she'd been obvious about her lack of attention, but how had he known she'd been texting? She always kept her cell phone between her knees with her legs crossed, so that no one could see it.

Emelie slumped back into her seat, flipped open her notebook, and began to pout, discouragingly jotting down notes.

******

"Do you want me to go with you?" Shelby asked. Emelie shook her head.

"I'll be fine, you guys can start without me. Hopefully this won't take too long," Emelie said, heading towards Carlisle's classroom. Shelby cocked her head to one side.

"Are you sure? With his reputation? You're going to be in there all afternoon," Shelby said. Emelie felt her stomach sink, knowing she was probably right.

"Text me later," Emelie said, before tentatively knocking on Carlisle's door.

"Come in," she heard from inside. Emelie took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Miss Woods, you're ten minutes late. Close the door and take a seat in the front row," Carlisle said, without getting up from his desk. Emelie nodded silently, removed her backpack from her shoulders, and sat down at the center desk of the front row.

She waited a few moments for him to say something, but he didn't remove his eyes from the papers he was grading.

Emelie crossed her legs and ran a hand through her long, platinum blonde hair, her physical pride. She looked at the clock for a few moments, and eventually sighed in impatience.

She raised her hand and shyly cleared her throat.

"Umm, Mr. Carlisle? When can I leave?" she asked. The stern professor looked up from the papers he was grading, eyes dark with a cold glare.

"You've been here all of two minutes, Emelie," he replied, sounding slightly annoyed. Emelie bit her lower lip.

"I know, but sir...I have cheer practice," Emelie said. Carlisle blinked slowly.

"Cheer practice?" he repeated, speaking as if she were mentally impaired. Emelie sighed and nodded her head.

"Well, yeah. We have the homecoming game next week, and I have a really hard solo routine. If I miss practice, they'll have to find someone to replace me," Emelie complained quickly.

Carlisle just stared back at her, and Emelie began to blush in embarrassment. So he truly didn't have a heart. She thought she saw his hard line of a mouth crack in what almost looked like a smile, which made her feel even worse.

Without saying another word, he brought his attention back to the papers he was grading. Emelie knew the conversation was over.

Emelie crossed and uncrossed her legs as she sat in detainment, bored out of her mind. She spent a few moments playing with her hair, but even that began to irritate her.

Emelie reached into her purse, the studded Valentino her mother had given her for her eighteenth birthday a month prior. She pulled out a tube of her favorite lip-gloss and a small mirror, and began slowly applying the lip-gloss, paying careful attention to the curve of her lips, enjoying the fruity taste and shine.

"This is not a beauty class, Emelie. Put that away," Carlisle said. Emelie sighed and put the items back in her purse.

"So, am I really supposed to just sit here and do nothing?" Emelie asked. She saw her professor roll his eyes.

"You talk as if you've never been in detention before," Carlisle replied.

"Well, I haven't," Emelie admitted, looking up at him innocently. Her teacher looked at her with an expression she'd never seen before. He didn't look quite as formidable as usual. It piqued her curiosity.

"Seriously? It took you until senior year to get a detention?" he asked. He appeared astounded, and his baffled expression made her slightly laugh. She'd certainly come close to detention before, but she'd always managed to charm her way out of punishment.

Until now.

"Well, most of my teachers like me," she replied truthfully.

He definitely smiled then, and Emelie was momentarily speechless. She didn't think he was capable of smiling. He looked a lot younger without the permanent scowl on his face. They shared a brief, humored moment, but then he returned his focus to the papers on his desk.

"I need to finish these. Just stay quiet, and I'll let you go at the hour," Carlisle said, full attention back on grading.

Emelie tentatively observed her teacher as he graded the papers. She realized she'd never really paid much attention to what he looked like. With the cold expression off of his face, he was actually very, very handsome with his wavy light brown hair and pale blue eyes.

His face was very masculine, surprising for an Art History teacher, with his strong, angled jaw and overt cheekbones. His skin was slightly tan and very smooth, and only enhanced by the slight five-o'clock shadow she noticed was appearing. There were a few slight wrinkles around his eyes, mouth, and forehead, especially at the apex of his stylish reading glasses, but they didn't appear to suggest age, only years of experience and wisdom.

Emelie lowered her eyes, taking in the broad shoulders hardly obscured by the gray pullover he was wearing. She watched him as he wrote comments on the papers, noticing how large and muscular his arms were, the way his forearm flexed as he wrote, the size of his hands...

Emelie quickly shook her head and averted her gaze. She couldn't believe she'd just been staring at Carlisle, the meanest teacher at school.

Who was suddenly striking her as very attractive.

She began wondering what his life was like outside of school. She didn't see a ring on his finger, so she figured he wasn't married. She wondered what kind of women he dated. Probably attractive academics of some sort, she assumed.

But then she chuckled, realizing that no woman would ever have much patience for a man with such a short temper.

Perhaps he was lonely then...

"You're free to leave," he said suddenly, beginning to pack his desk. Emelie jumped out of her seat and put on her backpack, happy to finally be free.

"Thank you Mr. Carlisle," she said softly, preparing to leave.

"Emelie," he called. Emelie turned around, scared he'd changed his mind.

His pale blue eyes met hers, and Emelie inhaled sharply in nervousness.

"No more texting in my class," he said. She nodded quickly, overwhelmed with relief.

"Yes sir. Thank you sir," she called, leaving his classroom.

******

******

Nicholas Carlisle was certain that Emelie Woods would be the death of him.

He'd noticed her the for the first time on the very first day of class, Advanced Placement Art History. It was a class he'd taught once before, for he was entering his second year teaching seniors at West View Senior High, but no student had ever captivated his attention as much as Emelie.

At merely eighteen years old, Emelie looked like a fashion model. Slightly taller than most girls, more fit than most girls, and certainly, far more beautiful and confident. Her large eyes were a vibrant, bright green, but close around the iris, a stunning gold, encircled by a long set of lashes that could make her look childlike and innocent one moment, and seductive and teasing the next.

The gentle slope of her small nose was soft and straight, wrinkling adorably whenever she was clearly bored during his lectures. Her dark pink lips were very soft, and very plump and curved. Her lips, with their perpetual pout, were meant for kissing, meant for sucking...

Her stunning face was framed by an overwhelming mass of long, brilliant pale blonde hair. Nicholas had often wondered how soft her hair would feel to the touch. Probably as soft as her creamy golden skin...

And if her face weren't enough to torment any man, her body certainly was. Emelie's body was long, slender, and toned, the perfect combination of athletic and womanly. Her full, round breasts sat proudly at the top of her chest, emphasized by the narrow curve of her toned waist. Her hips flared gently, leading to long, athletic legs. While every other student looked like they belonged in school with their uniforms, Emelie looked like she was constantly ready to pose in a men's magazine.

Yes, Emelie was beautiful. And yes, she had the sexiest figure he'd ever laid his eyes on. What irked him more than anything, however, was the fact that this little nymph was fully aware of how attractive she was. She'd already learned how to use her beauty to her advantage, how to use her sexuality to manipulate a man. Why else would she torture him by crossing and uncrossing her legs with her short skirt? Pouting her lips, drawing more attention with lip-gloss?

He'd only been teaching for a year, but Nicholas had quickly established a reputation for being the strictest disciplinarian at West View Senior High. He challenged his students, and he granted no excuses. But when it came to Emelie, he turned to putty in her hands. It had taken nothing more than a pout from her pretty mouth and a sad glance from her striking green eyes for her to be released from detention, after only fifteen minutes.

No, he would not allow a young girl to run him over, despite how pretty she was. He would teach her that in order to be viable in a harsh world, she needed to rely on more than her looks.

Nicholas exhaled as he locked his classroom door and headed down the hallway, trying his hardest to steady his heart from the automatic, rapid palpitations that occurred whenever Emelie was near. He exited the school building, and walked across the eastern end of the campus, headed towards the faculty parking lot.

He noticed the pale brilliance from Emelie's blonde hair from a distance. She was on the football field with the other cheerleaders, practicing for the homecoming game.

She was wearing an athletic tank top and a pair of tight black athletic shorts, framing the nicest ass he'd ever seen in his life.

Nicholas felt his groin fire in passion, and he raced to his car before anyone bore witness to his sudden perversion.

******

Nicholas watched as Emelie walked into the classroom. Her little skirt seemed smaller than ever, and he was sure he would eventually catch a glimpse of her panties.

Emelie dropped something, and she bent over to pick it up. Her skirt rode up, and her adorable, lace-covered ass became visible to him.

He couldn't wait any longer.

Nicholas sprinted from his seat and grabbed Emelie by her tiny, firm waist. He placed her on his desk, and quickly stepped between her thighs and wrapped them tightly around his body. He reached for her ass and pulled her forward, so that the heat of her pussy was directly against his hard cock. Emelie gasped and licked her lips.

"Why Mr. Carlisle...you're so hard," she murmured huskily. Nicholas ripped off her school blouse as he began kissing her neck.

"That's because you're always teasing me, Emelie," he growled, squeezing her nipples through her bra. Emelie gasped.

"I'm not trying to tease you sir," she said softly. Nicholas felt his dick swell even further as Emelie rubbed herself against him.

Nicholas grabbed a fistful of her hair, forcing her to look him directly in the eye.

"You know exactly what you do to me, you teasing little girl. And you need to be punished for it," Nicholas said harshly.

He grabbed her by her hips and flipped her over on his desk, pressing her stomach against it. He stood behind her and pushed her school skirt up around her waist. He brought her panties down around her knees and furiously undid his pants in desperation. He admired the sight of the innocent little vixen on his desk for a brief moment before he lost all control, and shoved his cock inside of her tight pussy from behind.

******

Nicholas opened his eyes, feeling incredibly perverse and unclean. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was breathing heavily, still worked up from the hot dream. He was painfully hard, and he knew that only a cold shower would help him at this point.

He lathered himself furiously, still feeling dirty no matter how hard he scrubbed. He'd had dreams about Emelie before, but never had he dreamed about actually having sex with her. It sickened him, how turned on by the dream he still was. She was his student, he was her teacher. She was eighteen, or at least, he desperately hoped she was eighteen, and he was thirty-three. It was wrong of him,so wrong of him, to lust after her the way he did.

The cold shower wasn't helping, for just the thought of her was keeping him painfully aroused. He needed to get off to keep his filthy lusts at bay.