3
Miriam
For having my Masters in Education, I can be really stupid. Case in point: telling Devin to use the hose if he needed to cool off. I didn’t care about his sweat in the pool; I just made it up so I wouldn’t be subjected to any more super tempting slo-mo poolside photoshoots. But I didn’t think my plan through. Because if Devin dunking his head in the water was super tempting, Devin drenching himself with a garden hose is goddamn torture.
I saw him do it yesterday--Day Two of Operation: Don’t Fuck Your Student--from between the blinds of my bedroom window. It started out innocent enough. He spent the morning planting lilac bushes along the back line of the privacy fence that encloses my backyard, then watered them to finish it off. As one does.
But then he angled his body to the side and started to drink directly from the hose, which then turned into him intentionally soaking his white ABC Landscaping shirt until it was see-through and plastered to every hard ridge, which then turned into him slowly peeling it off before running the water directly onto his god-like body. Seriously, what kind of teenager looks like that? It’s completely unfair.
As Devin got wetter, so did I. To my lust-fogged brain, the fact that he’ll be nineteen next month (yes, I checked) was enough to justify slipping a hand into my panties to touch my aching clit. It felt dirty and shameful and...so damn hot. I came on my fingers in less than a minute.
When my breathing finally started to slow, Devin turned the hose off and peered up at my window with a hint of a smirk. I gasped and plastered my back against the wall, breathing heavy for whole new reasons--shock, embarrassment, guilt.
It took me a good hour to talk myself into leaving my bedroom. I needed to act like an adult and confront him about being a Peeping Pervert, or at the very least, lie my ass off and tell him that I have trust issues and wanted to make sure he was doing the job he was hired for.
But when I approached him where he was weeding the flower beds, he acted like nothing had happened. There was no smug looks, no obnoxious innuendos or calling me out for spying on him, regarless of my reason. Nothing. In fact, he immediately greeted me with a friendly smile and jumped right into talking landscaping, double-checking I hadn’t made any changes to the original plan drawn up by his father.
Since he didn’t bring up my indescretion, I did the mature thing--I chickened out and stayed in the house until it was time for him to leave for the day. Yep. Super mature.
Today, I decided to plant the flowers that hang from the lanai on the back patio. I refuse to hide in my house all week because of Devin. It’s ridiculous. I was around him almost every day for six months at school; I didn’t feel the need to avoid him then. He’s just a student. Which is what I’ve been chanting in my head for the past hour as we worked within twenty feet of each other.
“Goddamn, it’s hot out here.”
On auto-pilot, I say, “Language, Mr. Adler,” before I catch myself and wince. “Sorry, habit. Forget I said that.”
Ten feet away from me, he picks up the hose and turns the water on. “Now why would I want to forget something I like so much?”
“You like being scolded?”
Chuckling, he shakes his head. “I like you in teacher mode. Everything you say sounds like a collegiate lecture instead of casual conversation.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Why would you like that?”
“Because I like the idea of stripping you out of your Ms. Fox the Prim outer shell to get to your Miriam the Needy Vixen creamy center.”
My lips part on a silent gasp, words completely failing me. As he leans forward to take a drink from the hose, his piercing gaze tells me the water isn’t quenching his real thirst. I swear he projects an image straight into my brain of his face between my legs, drinking every last drop I give him and still wanting more. A fire sparks in my belly and sinks lower to dampen the denim crotch of my cut-offs.
Something wicked possessed me to forego panties today. I told myself that with the extreme heat, the less layers I wore, the better, so I slipped on a pair of faded Daisy Dukes and a pale pink tank with a bikini top underneath. In case I need to remove another layer. Because of the heat. Not because of Devin.
Liar, liar, cut-offs on fire.
Okay, fine, it might have been a teensy-weensy bit because of Devin, but I can’t help myself. It feels like ages since I’ve been looked at the way he looks at me. Like I’m a decadent dessert he can’t wait to devour. So maybe I’m encouraging the flirting a bit. It’s not like I would ever in a million years act on it.
Clearing my throat, I decide it’s best not to respond to that last comment he made and refocus my attention on my [flower/plant]. Remembering that it’s time for me to water the ones I’ve already planted, I pick up the watering can and stand up.
“Can you fill this up so I can...” My words trail off at the sight of him leaned all the way over, dousing his head with the water. Next will be the shirt. Then his naked torso... Oh, God. “Devin, would you please knock that off?”
He kinks the hose to stop the flow of water and shakes his soaked hair back from his forehead. “Knock what off?”
“That thing you do where you hose yourself down in slow motion like you’re a sexy lifeguard on Baywatch.”
His mouth curves up and that dimple pops in his cheek. “You think I’m sexy?”
Damn it! “No, I said the lifeguards are sexy;
