I fidgeted with my phone nervously waiting for him to text back. Senior year was a fucking blur, but the still point in the world was the 90 minutes a day I got to spend with Mr. Harris. He was a perfect gentleman, married, kind, coached track so fit as fuck, and I know what I did was wrong but a girl has to shoot her shot.
He never even made me feel like I had a shot, well at least not until a few weeks ago. I don’t know. My mind raced through every interaction parsing his notes for meaning. His praise, and laughter, a delicate hand on the lower back. Was it something or was it the obsession of a fatherless girl.
Before school let out there was a ride home where he softly hummed the Police and I giggled nervously at the song while I felt my nipples get stiff in my bralette. They strained through the delicate fabric of my dress and I ran the back of my hand across my breast and bit my lip, wishing it was his hands sending the electric bolt through me. It started to rain and he sat with me in my driveway discussing how corny Sting had become. This is where I knew he had to feel something too.
He asked if he could walk me inside. I reached for the handle and he stopped me, “I’ll come around and get you” he reached behind my seat and pulled out an umbrella. He opened the umbrella and darted around the car to open my door. He pulled me close to him and we dashed up the driveway, avoiding the rain deftly.
Having a man in the small house I had only ever shared with my Mother was so disorienting. Especially a man like Mr. Harris. I assumed when he offered to walk me inside it would just be me inside, but he followed me in, leaving his umbrella on our small covered porch. I watched his eyes glide over the ephemera of my life, my girlhood, my Mother’s record collection, the notches in the door to the kitchen with my ages and heights. I felt all hope of an adult relationship with this man leave my body as he reached for a record.
The rain pounded the tin roof of our back porch, and I tried to fill the air with something other than my own longing, “Would you like to listen to something? I could play a record?”. Mr. Harris softly laughed and said, “Sure, I’ve always wanted to slow dance with a pretty girl, on a rainy day”. I blushed from my head to my toes, and carefully selected Mazzy Star from the shelf, Fade Into You slowly started from the old record player.
Mr. Harris put his hands on my hips, gently swaying to the music I closed my eyes for a second and leaned back into him. The moment was overwhelming, he turned me around and I looked up into his eyes. I felt something so achingly real, so not a projection of my own mind, and as he drew me into his chest I softly moaned as his hands slid across my body. Making a map of my curves with his hands, he flirted dangerously close to the hem of my dress, I involuntarily moaned as his hand came back across my ass.
“How long until graduation?”, he whispered into my ear. He had to have felt my nipples pressed against him, “a month” I stammered out breathily. “I need to go, I think”, Mr. Harris pulled away from me, holding my hands delicately he once again let his eyes wander where his hands had been.
Did I imagine it? Could I satisfy a man like that? Would he text me back?
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/o58f7u/graduation_night