Author's notes: The Rachel Berry in my Rachel-Will stories is not the same person as depicted in Glee (at least as of 1/1/11). She's not a virgin, having had a long sexual affair with Finn and/or sex at summer theater camps (referred to in one story as a "cesspool of sexual depravity" but probably no worse than many Baptist church camps). As a result, she's confident, self-possessed, not in the least insecure, and well aware of her talent, looks, and brains. She has a higher IQ and more talent than Will, and is his psychological equal. She is always the aggressor, and he is the more vulnerable in the relationship.
To see an affair between a high school girl and a teacher depicted realistically and seriously in a movie, watch not Election, but The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, featuring one of the greatest characterizations in cinematic history by the wonderful Maggie Smith, who won an Oscar for the eponymous role.
…
It's very early on a late spring Saturday morning when Will Schuester wakes up. But he doesn't wake up as he normally does, drowsily seeping out of his slumber, rather it's with a start, shaken awake by a dream, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. He usually forgot his dreams quickly, not able to recall them after only a minute even if he tried. On this one, however, he focuses hard immediately, trying to etch it into his long-term memory. It's not that it's a hot sex dream, he's had many of those, it's that it's the first one involving a certain Miss Rachel Berry. He had dreamt of Rachel on many previous occasions, usually involving some to do about glee, but never like this. He was lying naked, supine on a blanket on a tropical beach. No one else was about. "Will," said a lovely, sultry unmistakable voice. He turned to the sound, which came from a gorgeous, naked, rose-nippled, smiling Rachel, standing above him.
"May I join you?"
"Yes."
She lay on top of him, reached down to take him inside her, and he put his hands on her ass to pull her as close as possible to him. Her soft warmth against his body was indescribable. [i.e., the author is not a sufficiently competent writer to adequately describe it.] It was at that hallucinatory moment that our hero woke up. [Tough shit, gentle reader, that's how dreams work.]
Will Schuester was an educated man, and understood that dreams don't necessarily mean anything, that they are just random jumbles roiling around in the subconscious. Nevertheless, the truth was he did consciously think about his underage student far too much, she did know and care more about the things that interested him than anyone else he knew, she really was brilliant, her talent really was genuinely huge, and her mouth definitely did need to be kissed hard and often.
Before he can get out of bed, however, Will Schuester has an issue to deal with. You see, as most men near his age, i.e., between about 13 and 63, he usually woke up with an erect penis. This particular morning was not only no exception, but the dream had caused such a heated swelling and aching throughout his groin that measures had to be taken. Will then began to consult his rolodex of sexual fantasies to see who might be available to provide sorely needed relief.
First up, old reliable, virgin 15-year-old Terri on the couch of her parents' finished basement. Kissing, groping, wet finger, wet nipple, unzipping, squeezing, stroking - no use. Terri was clearly not going to do the trick on this cloudless morning.
Okay, Emma then - still a virgin and sweet as cotton candy. She comes to his apartment in a French maid's outfit, carrying a caddy of disinfectants, scrubbing compounds, steel wool and rubber gloves. She bends over to work on a particularly troublesome spot on the floor and Will seizes his chance and mounts her from behind. In and out, back and forth, heavy breathing – still nothing.
On to the taboo, dirty, dirty stuff that he tries to avoid unless desperate because, as a morally upright man, he feels so guilty afterward. He finds one that has worked recently, school slut Santana and her dear, dear friend, the very flexible dancer Brittany. Threesome! Oh the combinations, oh the permutations! Will imagines this, Will imagines that, but sorry, not today. Take a rain check. [Fuck you, gentle reader, NO BRITTANA-SCHUE PORN FOR YOU!]
The ache has increased with the diameters of his testicles. There remains a sole recourse, the originator of the problem, the one he absolutely and resolutely has tried to avoid: Rachel Berry. He heads back to the dream, has her say, "Oh god, come with me Will, please," and he does immediately, as simple as that, enduring a cumdrop rain in the aftermath.
Shit, shower, shave, cologne, dress, bagel, and he's ready for the weekend. But what to do?
Maybe I'll check out some sheet music for a glee number. Groman's Music has the best selection. Oh, that isn't where Rachel met Jesse, is it? Well, you never know.
If Rachel does happen to go there today, on this Saturday of all Saturdays, mirabile dictu, she might claim coincidence, but he bloody well better not try.
