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  <id>tag:dreamwidth.org,2021-01-24:3742139</id>
  <title>socktavian</title>
  <subtitle>socktavian</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>socktavian</name>
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  <updated>2024-04-25T21:32:31Z</updated>
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    <id>tag:dreamwidth.org,2021-01-24:3742139:384</id>
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    <title>socktavian @ 2022-11-25T23:23:00</title>
    <published>2022-11-26T04:43:07Z</published>
    <updated>2024-04-25T21:32:31Z</updated>
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    <dw:reply-count>41</dw:reply-count>
    <content type="html">It all started with a look. Mr. Brooks was scanning the auditorium, seeing which students had their hands raised, and his eyes landed on her for just a second, maybe less. Maya had her water bottle on the table in front of her. She didn’t know &lt;i&gt;what&lt;/i&gt; possessed her to sit forward and squeeze it between her breasts, but a look passed over his face, there and gone again in an instant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he had his back to the class for a good long while, writing on the dry-erase board like his life depended on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She’d always had a thing for him but, from that day forward, her goal was simple: Get him to look at her. It wasn’t easy, because as determined as she was, he was almost as determined to &lt;i&gt;avoid&lt;/i&gt; her, but she had her tricks. And every time she managed to catch his eye, she made sure it was memorable. She wore the raciest clothes, bustiers and painted-on jeans. She would smile so sweetly at him, biting her lip while sitting in such a way that he could see right up her skirt. No panties. Or she would wear a hoodie that she could zip or unzip at a moment’s notice, teasing him with glimpses of her lacy cleavage while everyone else around them took notes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It gave her such a thrill, because there was always the chance that one of the other students would look back at her at just the wrong moment, and see what she was doing, but soon that wasn’t enough. She didn’t just want him to look at her, she wanted him to fuck her. That’s when she found his number, and started sending him &lt;i&gt;pictures&lt;/i&gt;. She never identified herself. She never had to. That’s also when she decided enough’s enough, she would visit him during office hours. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maya waited for the right day, when the weather was poor, and most students would be rushing home to avoid the worst of it. She picked the perfect time, too, just before the very end of his schedule, when the risk of interruptions was fairly low. Then she walked into his office… And locked the door. She dropped her bag to the floor but left her coat buttoned up as she sat in the chair across from him, all the while smiling that same sweet, &lt;i&gt;innocent&lt;/i&gt; smile that was anything but.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=socktavian&amp;ditemid=384" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/&gt; comments</content>
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