Glasses

"You are my little secret," he would tell me. "Wear these so that no one else can see..."

He gave me these glasses one year ago, a few weeks after school started. No one ever expects things to go haywire so early in their lives, especially when they are still in their prime of sixteen. I never expected it, and it was not like I wanted-or did not want-it either.

Mr. Jonah Ryter was a young teacher's assistant who just achieved his license to practice. A smart, young man. Twenty-three years old. And, although he wears a pair of dark-rimmed glasses, he has these beautiful green eyes that turn grey when it is nighttime. How do I know that his eyes are different at night? Easy. I've looked into them before.

He was engaged, you know-Mr. Ryter-to a pretty blonde haired woman who went to his college. And they were together for six years before that. Six years. That is such a long time. It makes me feel guilty... well, almost.

If you have not guessed yet, I was having an affair with him. I can tell it straight because I do not really have anything to lose. I won't get in trouble for sleeping with an older man, it was Mr. Ryter who was taking the real risk. He hid me pretty well, because I have a small figure... literally and metaphorically.

That is why he gave me my glasses. He says I have pretty eyes, so the glasses would stop other boys from drawing themselves to me. I appreciate his gesture, and I particularly like seeing him in high spirits, so I also made a conscious attempt to keep myself unnoticed. I tied my long deep burgundy hair in a pair of twin-tailed braids, I kept quiet, and I dressed conservatively. This way, the only time people-especially boys-talked to me, was when they would be asking questions about classwork. It built me a reputation of solitary content.

Of course, I was not happy being ostracized for the pleasure of an older man-and my teacher, nonetheless. But every girl dreams of an adventure, and if I quit, I would lose my adventure and fall back into a banal existence. My parents do not mind, either. My mother was too busy following her career, and my father was too busy following other skirts.

Well, I guess it runs in the family.

You think I would feel guilty about being "the other woman", but I do not. The idea that this committed man would desire me to such an extent as to hide me from his already tied hand, it is actually very flattering.

Every day in school, I would treat him accordingly. He was my teacher, and I was his student. That was all... But, after school. That was when things were different.

I would stay back and do all my homework after class. I may have been a mistress, but I was-and still am-very much, a student. Because of my situation, I could not depend on Mr. Ryter to support me the whole time. I need to be able to fend for myself in the real world, especially because I was a mistress.

The people cleaning would ask if they could lock the door on the outside so that they would not have to wait for me, and I say "Of course, please, I'm sorry for being an inconvenience!". At first, they were very annoyed with me, but as the months passed it became just another routine. Mr. Ryter-sorry, I call him Jonah at this point. Johan would come to the room at different times, but they usually ranged from thirty to forty minutes after the cleaners lock up. I would have long finished my assignments, but I would still pretend to be reading some part of my textbook, just because I liked the way he would pretend to sneak up from behind me, trace my stomach with warm, slightly quivering hands, and whisper hotly into my ear, "Are you done yet?"

And would then shut my books and take one of his hands, guiding them from my abdomen to my chest. His fingers would instinctively squeeze what little I had there, and I would moan lightly, "What do you think?"

It would usually escalate from there. The touching, the kissing, everything. We would do this almost every day. And, every time, it felt brand new. Each touch would still be electric, each breath would evaporate in steam, and our skins were always burning with unspoken passion. I would go into detail, but I get too hot just thinking about it. I would bite my tongue to hold back my desire to scream, and he would see that. He would smirk and call me, "You selfish girl."

I would say nothing back, my only outlet being the heavy panting that escaped my burning lips.

Then, one day, my mother said, absentmindedly, over the dinner table,

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, my company just opened a new office overseas. We'll be moving there next week."

It was last-minute, but I did not care. My grades were flawless, so applying for a new school would not be difficult. My father was an author, he as long as he had his laptop, he was fine. The only thing I had to do was break the affair... and no better way to do it, too.

The week trickled down until it was my last day. A friday. Our plane was leaving directly after my mother finished her shift in the evening. Friday... School started on a Monday. That Monday, I entered with insecurity. Today, Friday, I was leaving with power.

I arrived to school with my hair down, flowing gracefully, elegantly, down the length of my back. I never noticed how long my hair had grown, and I never realized now heavy my long hair was. I also removed the glasses he gave me, put on mascara, and applied lightly colored lip gloss. When I arrived to school, my uniform skirt slightly shorter than it usually was, I could feel the eyes on me.

It felt good.

When I walked into that class, Mr. Ryter looked at me with astonished, lusty eyes, and asked nervously,

"My, my, young lady, why the sudden change?"

I smiled sweetly at him, speaking with the assertiveness I had never let anyone hear very often.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ryter, I forgot to tell everyone earlier," my smirk was growing inside my heart, and my eyes glazed with a hidden, poisoned undertone. "My mother's job transfered her overseas," and, with a slightly playful note, I ended with, "My last day is today, we get on the plane tonight."

There were a few "Aww"s and "Oh"s from my classmates, and a few gasps, too. But, the reaction I was most concern with-and the one that was the most entertaining to see-was Mr. Ryter's. He did his best to not make it very obvious, but I could see the light drain from his eyes as well as the color from him skin. There was a pregnant silence between us, and then he spoke.

"Well," he nervously cleared his throat. "This is rather unfortunate news, we would rather you has stayed with us right here."

"I understand," I nodded, swiftly sliding my sentence in so that I was almost cutting him off. "But some things cannot be helped."

And, with that, I took to my seat.

I could feel the eyes of all my classmates rest on my shoulders. Some with lust, some with shock, but none with hate or distaste. Perhaps it was the timing.

Minutes fell like lead in oil, people coming form here and there to talk to me. Asking why I never started acting the way I was acting now at the beginning of school, wondering where it was my mother was now stationed, wishing me luck... you know, general high school stuff.

And then came after class time. I stayed behind that day as well, my back towards the door and my eyes out the window. I was twirling the glasses around my fingers, when I heard a familiar open and shutting of the door. I did not expect to be treated normally, and, as I expected, I was not. I was grabbed from behind and spun around quickly. Jonah's hands gripping my wrists tightly as his breath came in short, heavy rounds. I smiled. He was clearly angry.

"What is this all about?" he demanded, looking me up and down carefully.

"It is my last day," I answered flatly.

"Are you serious?" Jonah sighed, his hold on my arms loosening a little.

"Why would I lie?" I cocked my head towards him a little. "I'm not like you, Jonah."

He looked up at me suddenly, completely appalled at what I had just said. It took that chance and seized him mouth in mine. Overpowering him was a little difficult because he was taller, more built than me, but I had gotten a grip on his tie and forced his torso downwards. I forced my tongue around the inside of his mouth, winning dominance over his tongue in what seemed to be in instant.

Oh, yes, sweet vengance will be mine.

Backing him up against a desk, I broke our kiss and smirked. I could feel his panting as I ran my tongue across his upper lip, my hands making a quick transit to the zipper of his pants. I could feel the bulge in his lower area pulsating hotly under my hand, and I pressed against it, listening to his stifled groans. It felt good to be in control of him.

"You like that?" I asked, but I did not even wait for an answer. I was slowly sinking towards his lower area, where my fingers made swift work of bringing his burning shaft out into the air. I swallowed him whole, listening to him cling desperately to his breaths. I was the one who had him in the palm of my hand that day. And, I will say this now, I rocked his world.

That selfish boy...

We exchange emails now passively. He had gotten married to his blonde fiancee, and I am now in the middle of college. He still brings up that day sometimes... I never believed he was totally over me, and his persistent initiation does not help support his case either. I do not know whether he is happy with his current marriage, but I wish him the best of happiness for it.

Though, if it is found that he is caught in an unhappy commitment, I have told him several times...

"I still have your glasses."

END