Free Regular Sex ~ Issue 8 (The Regular Sex Series) by Kitty French

 
    Regular Sex ~ Issue 8 ~ A Lesson in Human Anatomy
     
    'Am I in the
wrong room for the lecture?'
    Mr. East, my
human biology teacher, looks up from the pile of papers in front of him on his
desk and places his red pen down.
    'Come in,
Jessica.'
    I glance over my
shoulder to see if anyone else is coming, but the corridor is empty.
    'If you're busy,
I can...?' I leave the question open ended and cross my fingers behind my back
that he doesn't send me away. Truth is I knew perfectly well there wasn't a
lecture today. It's tomorrow afternoon, as it has been every other week of the
course. And while I'm being truthful, I'll also tell you that I hoped to find
him alone in here this evening, because I spend his lectures wishing everyone
else would leave so I can have him to myself.
    I don't know
much about him. He's only been lecturing here for a few weeks, and boy is he a
hot replacement for the ancient professor he's filling in for. I'm so glad I enrolled
on the course now; I very nearly didn't. My family isn't the studious type, you
know? My sister spent too much time worrying about making out rather than making
her grades, and my olds work jobs that just about put food on the table.
Ambition isn't a word that gets thrown around much in our house, to put it
mildly.
    It does in my
head, though. I turned twenty-one six months ago and ambition hit me like a
bludgeon over the head. If I don't do something different to my mother, I'll
turn into her; a washed out, unfulfilled, slightly bitter version of the woman
she used to be. I'm guessing there, throwing together a mix up of old photo's
where she's laughing a whole lot more than she does now and hazy memories from
my childhood. It scares me stupid that I'll end up in the same boat, and that's
the main reason I enrolled to study again five years after I walked out of
school with two fingers in the air and a stupid ass grin on my face. It's only
two evenings a week, but it's a start, isn't it? It's a step on the ladder to
get myself out from behind the petrol kiosk counter I now work five days a week
and into the midwifery course I've set my heart on. And you know what?
    I'm kind of
enjoying college now I'm here by choice rather than because the law dictates my
attendance. I don't much like being told what to do, you know?
    Anyway. The
corridor behind me is empty, and I step into the classroom and pull the door
closed again behind me. Mr. East places his pen down and beckons for me to come
on in.
    I walk closer,
taking my time, aiming for bashful. I've dressed with care for this; I look a
bit St Trinian's in my short pleated skirt and tight white blouse. I added a
tie at home and took it off again, it was too obvious. Same for the over the
knee socks, which was a shame as they were bloody sexy. Mind you, the knee-high
boots I opted for instead aren't much different; the overall very bad schoolgirl
vibe is most definitely there. Have I got my hair in bunches? You bet I have. I
refrained from Britney Spears style fluffy hair bands, but only with great
sadness.
    Are you
wondering what Mr. East is like? Let me tell you. I don't even need to look his
way to describe him; he's imprinted on my brain. (And also on my phone from the
surreptitious pics I've taken of him during lectures. What? Don't tell me you
wouldn't do the same. Trust me, you would.)
    I'd say he's
late thirties, and he's tall and rangy with sandy hair that he rifles his
fingers through when he's lecturing. I swear you can practically hear a sigh
ripple around the room when he does it. He has this capable aura too; he looks
like a man who could climb mountains and cradle babies, and his clothes seem to
want to have sex with him because they wrap themselves around him like a flirty
woman.
    He always wears
a shirt to class; today's is deep blue and long sleeved, open at the neck with
his sleeves folded back to his elbows. His watch that looks understated and
expensive, and he has these big, gorgeous hands that he's fluid and