Every time he thought something would go right, the lesson, his video presentation, the seating chart, something else cropped up to kick his butt. He glanced at the calendar. October 22. Seemed like just the day before he walked into the classroom fresh and ready to tackle teaching American history to bright-eyed eighth graders. “Time whizzes by when you’re having fun.” Tessa leaned on the doorframe. “How goes it? I see you haven’t been eaten alive.” He tossed the sponge into the bucket and took a long breath, letting it out slowly. She folded her arms. The fabric of her standard, boring, print turtleneck pressed against her breasts and gave him the best view of her assets. The apron hindered his view of her lower half, but he didn’t care. Would she dance for him the same way his fantasy girl danced? Any teacher-like thoughts left his mind. Everything shifted to what she’d look like out of those dowdy clothes. She never went for glamour, just businesslike blandness. But underneath he bet she drove men wild.
