There were days when time was of the essence. Not a word was spoken. She would remove and fold her skirt and panties, link her hands behind her back and give him whatever he demanded.
When she was good, she would leave the classroom neat and tidy, save for the snaking stream of professorial cum seeping from her lace panties.
If she delayed, or disobeyed, she would be paddled until she couldn’t sit, and she would wearing some of his sprem in obvious places, and would have to explain herself, never mentioning his name.
If she was really good, she would be invited to his home, and she would get to make the rules for the night.
"Decisions, decisions", she would whisper to herself, each time she opened that door…