In high school math wasn’t my strong suit. At one point, I had a tutor who was an elderly British woman, but she retired to Florida to live out her years and recommended a woman named Nicole.
“You’ll just love Nicole,” she said with a wink.
I knew what she meant the moment Nicole walked in. She had curly blonde hair, large breasts, a tight stomach, toned legs, a firm ass. She looked like Julie Bowen from Modern Family. But even the best tutors, like Nicole, had trouble reaching me. I just wasn’t interested in math. One afternoon, Nicole had one of those “lightbulb moments” when she caught me staring down her blouse. She was wearing a lace bra—black—her cleavage was hard to ignore.
“Oh,” she said, a hush falling over the room. I was 100% certain that would be the end of that. I blushed, stammered, struggled to come up with a lie, but instead Nicole just winked at me and said, “I think I know how to motivate you.”