We were both teachers at Forwhaltz high school. I was a English teacher and he taught History. When I started he was nice to me and we became friends. Every Wednesday we would have lunch together. It was wholesome, appropriate and platonic. He was married and I was engaged but as time passed, I caught myself looking at his arms as he rolled up his sleeves, and tracing his chest through his shirt. I always stoped myself and reminded myself he was my favourite person at the school and it was wrong. I touched myself a few times thinking of him and would avoid his gaze days after because the guilt and gushing consumed me. Two years after we met we found ourselves alone.
We were chaperoning a school trip to Switzerland. The teens were in their rooms and we were in the cocktail bar in the hotel. He was wearing a graphic tee and jeans, and I was wearing a mini black dress with sheer tights, boots and gold hoops. We were laughing at the chaos of teens and the drama between groups, swapping gossip and teaching ideas when he edged closer to me in the booth.