The kids were sent home early so the staff could clean the school. Almost everyone has snuck off to enjoy the rest of golden September afternoon. I walk the empty corridor and see L. through the doorway. She is still here, diligently cleaning the classroom.
I walk into the room as L is wiping down the desks. She starts to turn as I come in but I tell her to keep cleaning. I watch her and wait until her hands start moving in smooth, steady circles again. She wipes her way up the desk and bends a little to reach. I step in behind her and take her ponytail in my hand.
L lets out a breathy sigh but she doesn’t turn around. I slide my right foot next to hers and push it to the side so that her legs part. Standing behind her parted legs, I press the crouch of my jeans against her. The yield and heat of her, the blood-beat pulsing of our bodies echoing off each other through the fabric of our clothes. I pull L’s blonde ponytail gently and she bends further over the desk and pushes back against me. I gradually pull harder on her hair until her head is arched back toward me and keep pulling harder until I know she is beginning to hurt.