Alright, so when I went to look up how I spelled a name in Chapter 1, I noticed most of the chapter was missing. I wrote in everything I could remember, but I think I did a little better this time, so please go back and re-read Chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even the idea of student/teacher AU fics. I read a Kurtofsky student/teacher fic on tumblr and it inspired me to do this.

Link: http(colon)(slashslash)wewrite(dash)stuff(dot)livejournal(dot)com(slash)1183(dot)html

I walked into Cheerios practice in a daze. Had I really just asked a female teacher if she wanted to have sex with me? I mean, there had been all kinds of rumors about me and Mr. Schuester going around at one point, but I started most of those to protect him from Berry. Once she heard that he had slept with me, she backed off.

"Yo! Slowpez! Where were you?" Ms. Sylvester's voice rang loud through her megaphone.

"Sorry. I was talking to my math teacher."

She ran over to where I was standing. "Who do you have, Fabray? Good. Tell her that by making you late to practice, you were just demoted to second best, just like her." She laughed.

"Uh, Coach, I was never Head Cheerleader."

"Yeah, you were. I was going to promote you. You just gave Brittany an extra month at the top!"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, okay. Whatever, Coach."

That night, I crawled into bed exhausted from school and practice.

"Are you okay, mija?" My mom knocked on my door. "You didn't eat much of your dinner."

I sat up. "Sí, Mami. Estoy bien. I'm just tired." Yes, Mom. I'm okay. I hadn't wanted to eat much. I just kept thinking about the way Ms. Fabray blushed when I said what I said. How she bit her bottom lip in surprise as she said, "Go Santana." It wasn't a no. It wasn't a yes. Was it her way of saying that she wanted me but she couldn't say it?

I sighed and threw myself backwards to lie down again. What had I gotten myself into? I closed my eyes and prayed to dream good dreams.

I was the only one in math class, the only one in the classroom. Not even Ms. Fabray was in the room. She had left briefly to go make copies of an assignment for one of her other classes.

There was a knock on the door. "Santana? Are you in there?"

"Of course, Ms. Fabray. I'm here."

She walked into the room, and my jaw dropped. My math teacher was standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but red heels and some red, sheer, silky lingerie. "Please, call me Quinn while we have sex."

"I, I, uh, wow. Shit, you're so hot."

"Yeah? So are you. Come, sit on my bed." A king-sized bed with purple sheets appeared where her desk had been moments earlier. She sat on it and crossed her legs at the knee, then patted the spot next to her. "Come on, I won't bite. Unless you're into that." She licked her lips.

I sat down next to her, and her soft pink lips were immediately on mine.

I ran my hand up her stomach under the sheer fabric of her camisole and cupped her breast as I ran my thumb over her already aroused nipples.

She drew in a quick breath as she unbuttoned my jeans and lifted my shirt above my head to expose my green bra and thong. She lowered her hand to slide into my thong and she slipped two fingers into my wet core.

"Hmm, Quinn." It felt weird saying her name. "Mm, so good. Harder." I slipped my hand into her thong too, and massaged her clit with my index finger.

"Oh, yeah." She opened her legs slightly and pulled me into her.

I could feel her wetness on my leg, just as I'm sure she could feel mine on hers.

We rocked our hips in rhythm until we both came.

"Holy shit!" I screamed as soon as I caught my breath. "Fuck, Quinn. Why would any girl leave you when you can do that?"

She caught hers. "I could ask you the same. Holy shit, Santana. You should dream about having sex with me more often.

What? I was dreaming?

I awoke to find my hand in my pajama bottoms massaging my own clit and wetter than I had ever been. Today was going to be a fun day.

I drove to school as usual, and as the bell rang to start walking to class, I dreaded the long sidewalk leading to English. Of course, I would have my hot teacher's ex-girlfriend as a teacher also. I sat in my usual seat in the back of the room.

"Ok, so today, we're going to write compositions on having to choose between the safe but good thing and the exciting but bad thing. I don't want anything about choosing between following the rules and not, and nothing about getting drunk or not. I have received those in the past, and they will go in the trash. You will receive an F." Ms. Zisces paced from one side of the room to the other. "Be creative. Think outside the box. These will not be read out loud, and I will never share them with anyone, so don't be afraid to tell a few secrets. Just remember. Nothing illegal." She peered at us from over her thick glasses. "It doesn't have to be more than a few paragraphs. Go."

I was tempted to write about whether to sleep with Coach, or stay with Brittany, but I figured that when she said "tell a few secrets," she meant some of our own.

My Tough Choice

Something that has always plagued me is whether to be myself and announce to the world how in love I am, or used to be, with Brittany Pierce, or stay closeted and pretend to have sex with every guy in the school like that chick from The Letter A. A few months ago, I made the seemingly dangerous choice. I came out of the closet. I declared myself to be a lesbian. It wasn't easy, but I did it. With Brittany's help, of course. I know that I couldn't do it without her. This decision led me to believe that what seems to be more dangerous, what appears to be scarier, is occasionally just the one less traveled by, to quote Robert Frost, and as he so eloquently stated, it has made all the difference. I am happy that I chose to be brave, rather than hide. I took a chance, and it has really changed my life.

That was then. The issue is not now whether to be with a girl, or pretend to love a guy. It is who I want to involve myself with. I desire an older woman, one who has been through plenty of heartbreak and coming out herself, but I acknowledge that she is not the safe one. I could get in trouble for wanting to love her, for wanting to have her to myself when her own companion abandoned her. It's dangerous. She is dangerous. But then I consider that the girls my age don't love me like I think she might, like I fear she might. Do I want her to love me? Do I want to love her?

Now you see my dilemma. This is relevant; this is current. This is something I am at this moment attempting to figure out for myself. I want to go for it. After all, my birthday is in twelve days. I'll be eighteen. I'll be legal. There won't be an issue, which is why I believe I am deciding to stay safe for a few weeks, and maybe discuss my feelings for her if I have them later. And there it is.

I handed in my short essay to Ms. Zisces and sat back down in my seat. I hadn't even thought about what I was writing as I wrote it. I just went with whatever my fingers said. I laughed inwardly as I realized that my fingers love Quinn. I ducked my head as I smiled again at the thought of calling her Quinn in that dream last night.

I thought back to my essay. I said the words love and feelings in it. That didn't even sound like me. Santana Lopez does not love a woman before she really knows her. Santana Lopez does not hook up and sleep with a woman just because she's hot. But then again, I thought, Santana Lopez has never met a woman quite like Quinn Fabray.

Thank you for the amazing reviews! I received a question on whether I have a plot, or this is just a smut story. I don't even know, but this was a taste of the smut that I can write, so let me know… I kinda want to do a plot, but I don't have a lot of plot ideas. This chapter had a bit of both.