Dana: Thing of Beauty — K.D. West

A Thing of Beauty Is a Joy Forever

Ken likes to sit and watch his English teacher. Oh, he likes to listen to her too --  he's a good English student -- but mostly he loves to watch Dana's face. Her body...

Can you blame him that when she asks him to come by her classroom so that she can give him a present for his eighteenth birthday, his brain offers him images of a gift a lot more personal than a book of poems? That he fantasizes of learning something from this beautiful older woman that's a lot more heart-stopping than grammar or literary criticism?

And can you forgive him for being overwhelmed when that fantasy comes true?

Dana is more than happy to teach Ken something important: A thing of beauty is a joy forever. And a beautiful teacher can be the pleasure of a lifetime.

A short story of teacher-student sexual initiation.

First part of the Erotic Tales: Letters for Allison series:

• Dana: Thing of Beauty*
• Bridget: Virgin Knot*
• Rachel: The Big Easy*
• Veronica: Arise, Fair Sun*
• Meredith: The Mansion of a Love (Coming Soon!)
• Alison: Newfound Land (Coming Soon!)

* Collected in Four Erotic Tales

Extract:

She was standing with her back to me -- not in the lingerie I had been attempting not to visualize, but in the black turtleneck and button-up skirt that she had been wearing at lunch. She turned around, smiled, and walked toward me, holding out… a book.

I smiled, trying hard, now, not to look disappointed. I took the worn hardcover: a volume of Keats's love poems. Well, that was interesting. I looked up, about to say thank you.

“Open the cover, “ Dana said, her arms folded in front of her, as if she were suddenly cold. “Read the inscription -- read both of them.”

Dutifully, I opened the book to the title page. There were indeed two inscriptions. The top one, written in a strong block print, and dated about fifteen years earlier, read, “To Dana, who is as fine a student and teacher as a man could wish for, Love, John.”

Below, in the small, fluid script I knew from so many papers, was an inscription dated that day:

To Ken,

who is a finer student than I ever was, and whom I hope to continue to teach and learn from.

Love, Dana.

I looked up.

She was staring at my chest, her arms still folded, looking suddenly very small. “John was my Senior English teacher. He taught me a huge amount about writing, about reading poetry.” Her glance ran over the book in my hand and she gave a small, shy smile. It was disconcerting to have this brash, flirtatious woman acting so timid, so much like a teenager. “On my eighteenth birthday, he gave me that book, and…” She looked up at me, face pale and eyes dark. “He became my lover. He was wonderful. He taught me… so much.”

She reached up to my cheeks and paused, her eyes an open question.

I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers. Our tongues met, and the heat from her mouth flooded through me, soothing the flip-flops that had been trampolining in the pit of my stomach. I reached my hand toward her breast. She stopped my hand, broke our kiss, and rested her head on my chest. I was breathing like a bull ready to charge.

“In spite of what you might think, I haven't ever done anything like this, Ken,” she sighed. “I've never gotten… intimate with a student.” She looked up at me. “It's not true, you know. If anyone found out about this, I would be fired.”

Then she sashayed over to the desk, peaking at me over her shoulder. “Lock the door, will you?”

(Older woman-younger man erotic romance - MF)