I’m 18 years old, and in my final year of high school. I don’t think I’ll miss this place, but I definitely will miss my best reason to come to school – the maths teacher, Miss Summers. You could say she’s also my sex education teacher, although that’s an unofficial position.
It started one day in my A-Level maths class – a subject I had probably mainly developed an interest in due to Miss Summers being the hottest teacher in school. However, that same fact did make it pretty hard to concentrate on numbers and formulas sometimes, even though I always paid complete attention to my teacher. Today she was wearing a stylish navy pencil skirt, brown leather knee-high boots, and a tight white striped blouse which showed just enough cleavage of her voluptuous breasts to get the mind of every boy in class wandering. I realised I had been staring at them a little too intensely when her words broke through my reverie.
“Are you with us, Mr Taylor?”
“Huh? Sorry Miss, yes.”
“I said could you please come up to the board and solve this formula for x.”
“Uhh… yes miss,” I answered uncertainly.