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Chapter 1

Miss Vickie Roach sat at her desk and looked out at her students who were trying to solve the daily trigonometry problem. Her eyes moved across her senior section and the smallest of smiles appeared on her face as she observed her favorite class. Vickie was well liked by both faculty and students despite the fact that she dressed as a much older school marm. Although very confident in her teaching ability and her ability to communicate with her students, Vickie was just the opposite when it came to her own self esteem and sense of style.

This was her fifth year as a high school math teacher in a small suburban town and many of the other teachers secretly thought that her attire and style would be the same when she had forty years of teaching behind her. Although she had a pretty face and an athletic body, she hid it behind loose sweaters, baggy pants, and plain, concealing dresses. Vickie liked to keep in shape but was much too self conscientious to ever appear in a health club so she purchased equipment that she constantly used to keep in shape. Vickie’s house, left to her when both her parents died in the same year due to cancer, had a room of gym equipment that she used often.

Vickie had always been shy around her peers, uncomfortable around men and never had a really serious relationship. It was that she just felt inadequate and lacking confidence that she never emerged on the dating scene and was content with her lot in life. Vickie was happy, lonely, but happy as she watched her students. Student who were so unlike her. She never had a laptop computer to use at their age. Every student in her class had one and they all were busy at the keyboard solving today’s problem, at least she hoped that’s what they were doing. Since the school was setup for wireless internet, there was an occasional student who just had to check their e-mail or see who was online by checking their buddy list. More than one student was caught setting up a clandestine meeting with a schoolmate that they had planned in class. Such was the case with the high tech schools of today, teachers had to be aware of so many more things.

The school year was into its second month and October seemed to be long and difficult. Learning new names was always a chore and the looming parent teachers meeting just added more stress. Vickie was always afraid that she would forget a students name and be embarrassed beyond belief, so she scanned the class, trying to match a face with a name but those darn computer screens hid some faces making the job that much more difficult.

Vickie looked down at her own laptop and snickered to herself as she snuck a look at her own e-mail. If her students caught her there would be no end to the harassment. Six new e-mails. Two of which she knew were not meant for her because both boasted of increased penis size, she deleted both immediately. Three others were of no consequence but the last one was intriguing. The sender was SIXTH PERIOD TRIG in big, bold letters. She paused before opening and she reminded herself that this was her sixth period trig class. Could some one in this room be sending her a message. She wondered how they got her address but then reminded herself that her school e-mail would be really easy to determine. It was always the teacher first initial, followed by the their last name and then the school.

Vickie was torn between just deleting the message but the her curiosity got the better of her and she opened it. It read:

Dear Miss Roach,

You are my favorite teacher. You could not begin to believe the impact you have on my life. Thank you for being you.

SIXTH PERIOD TRIG

Vickie read and reread the message and then scanned the class to see if some one was observing her. She saw no incriminating stares and was troubled by the message. She wondered if she she report it. It contained no threats, no vulgar language, no inclination that the sender would harm anyone so Vickie decided that it might just be a smitten teenager. Vickie never really had a student, or anyone for that matter, write her such a note. The more she thought about it the more she thought it must be a joke. Some cruel student trying to aggravate a teacher or it could even be a practical joke from a colleague. Vickie promised herself to be on guard because she didn’t want to look foolish but she also felt a flush of excitement that it was possible that someone liked her.

The rest of the period and day went without further incident and the phantom e-mail slipped from her mind.

Dave Barry wondered how his teacher received his e-mail. He had sent it to her on a whim, although he did find his trig teacher to be both very pretty and desirable. Nobody else thought of Miss Roach this way but Dave knew that if she just would take the effort to modify her look that she would be a beautiful woman. Dave had watched as she looked down at her computer. He wasn’t certain that she was reading it but when her head popped up and she looked the class over, he bahis firmaları knew. Since she started looking at the opposite side of the class from him, he had plenty of time to busy himself with today’s problem. He already had the answer and that was why he had time to think of his teacher. He liked her as most of the students did but he liked her for her potential, her inner beauty and wished he could extract that and turn his thoughtful, caring teacher into the beautiful flower that he knew existed under her disguise.

Dave was an average eighteen year old boy. He was good looking and smart but if his peers were asked to name the best looking and smartest, Dave’s name would not appear in the top ten, if at all on the list. Dave was the kind of student that tended to melt into a crowd, become invisible, the kind of a student that others never remembered. But Dave was kind and caring even though he had only a few choice friends. He never was one to do something just be with the in crowd. Dave had confidence and a fine eye for what really mattered. He would be quick to help anyone and had done so, even though his kind acts were quickly forgotten. Miss Roach was Dave’s kind of person. She was also kind and caring and all he had to do was bring out her inner beauty. He wanted to do this not for his own benefit, not so that he could ravage the new found beauty but he wanted to do so in the same manner a gardener cares for a newly planted seed, knowing that his effort will yield a precious flower.

The days passed without another message and Vickie quickly forgot until one day after class she checked her e-mail. In her in box a new message from SIXTH PERIOD TRIG waited for eyes. Vickie nervously looked around her now empty classroom and then she felt silly for doing so. She opened the message and it read:

Dear Miss Roach,

I come to school every day to see you. I wonder if you know that during class that someone desires you, someone thinks that you are special, someone is peeking under your well masked facade and sees the beauty that lies therein. Well, Miss Roach, I desire you.

SIXTH PERIOD TRIG

Vickie must have read that message a dozen times and each time she asked herself another question. Who would write this? What high school student would use words like facade and therein? What high school student would find her desirable? The more she read it the more confused she became. She opened her grade book and went through each name and thought about the possibility of that student being the author. Name after name and name and no suspects. Vickie didn’t even realize it when her finger glided over Dave Barry’s name without so much as a thought because Dave was one of those students who was invisible even though he was in plain sight.

That night as Vickie exercised she thought of the e-mail and it’s contents and she carried those thoughts with her as she went to bed. Unknown to her, Dave had planted a seed in Miss Vickie Roach’s head that was just starting to germinate.

Wednesday’s class went without incident. She could not even venture a guess as to the source of the mystery e-mailer. At the end of the period Vickie had mixed emotions about not receiving another message. She was somewhat relieved that another had not come but also a splinter of disappointment had pierced her well hidden demeanor.

The origins of the messages had started to dominate her thinking. The rest of her day, the drive to her house, the time it took to grade papers, her exercising, even her attempts to fall asleep were troubled by the content of the e-mails. The thought of why someone would do this to her was also present with the thought that someone found her desirable. These conflicting emotions troubled Vickie.

Friday, sixth period finally came without any more e-mails. Vickie tried to match the absentee list to see if this gave evidence to uncover the secret sender but it was to no avail. The class went well, the students seemed to grasp the concepts and quickly busied themselves with the problem of the day. Vickie sat behind her desk and watched them work. She could not spot any furtive glances and decided that she must begin some of her other obligations. She avoided her e-mails, even though she worked on her computer and after five minutes her curiosity won out and she checked her in box. One message and it was from SIXTH PERIOD TRIG. She wasted no time and opened it. It read:

Dear Miss Roach,

Each day your students see you as a teacher, a very special, caring, kind teacher but not as a woman. I know the woman that lies beneath. I look at you and see the woman, the desirable woman that you are. I think of you at night and wonder. I wonder why you hide, I wonder why you wrap your body in concealment. I wonder how you would look if you just let your hair down. Please, Miss Roach, on Monday let your hair down, I think we’ll both find it exciting.

SIXTH PERIOD TRIG

Vickie logged off her computer and shut it down. She didn’t know what to kaçak iddaa do but she was troubled. The question of who was doing this played on her mind even as the bell rang and the students filed out of her class. A few students muttered to her about having a nice weekend but Vickie was preoccupied and barely acknowledged their kindness.

School ended and Vickie felt paranoid. Even as she made her way to her car, she would cast nervous glances over her shoulder, afraid that someone would sneak up behind her.

Finally, she sat behind the wheel of her car and let out a deep breath in relief. Vickie pulled down the sun visor and looked in the mirror. She concentrated on her own face and realized that she was plain in appearance and she wondered why she was that way. She looked at her hair that was pinned up and it came to her that she had always worn her hair this way to school, never once letting it down.

At home, she busied herself with correcting papers while the day was fresh in her mind and was done in ninety minutes. In her bedroom she studied herself in the floor length mirror and wondered why a boy, a high school boy would find her attractive. Vickie’s hands went to her hair and soon it collapsed around her shoulders. She always took great care of her hair and it showed. The curly locks of fine, silky, brown hair fell so that it surrounded her face, draped over her back and in the front brushed against her breasts. The curls and swirls of hair seemed to blanket her chest providing a soft pillow of comfort for her firm breasts. Vickie’s eyes were critical of the rest of her nerdy attire which also matched her daily school clothes.

The weekend was a blur for Vickie. Her workouts were far more strenuous as if she was trying to prove something and she seemed to pay more attention to her body. She had firm, shapely legs, a pert ass and breasts, although not large, exploded from her chest as solid orbs that somewhat embarrassed her.

Fresh from her shower, she slipped into a robe that fell to mid thigh and logged on to her computer. She was very anxious as she checked her e-mail and couldn’t decide if she wanted to see another phantom e-mail or not. She wasted no time when she discovered that Sixth Period trig had indeed left a message.

Dear Miss Roach,

I know that you have wondered about my request. I mean you no harm, it’s just that I think that you’re very attractive. I think you are so very special. I think of you often but in my mind, I picture you differently. I see your hair, your beautiful, silky hair as it cascades over your shoulders. I see the way it bounces as you walk. I picture it swirling as you turn to the chalkboard and then back. I see you dressed with more attractive clothes. You can’t believe how I imagine you wearing a simply, white cotton blouse instead of those baggy sweaters. I dream of you wearing slacks that are tailored for your shape instead of the floppy pants you wear. I cannot even imagine what you would look like in a skirt. Please do not think of me as vulgar because I am not. Do not think of me as a pervert because I am not. Think of me as an artist, someone who can bring out the inner beauty and you are my subject. I would never harm you, Miss Roach, never. If you think of me as a stalker or someone who would harm you, then respond to this e-mail with one word. Respond with STOP and I will cease all contact. I will never e-mail you again. I will still be a respectful student and I will always see your inner beauty. If you wish me to continue then respond with another one word. Respond with PLEASE. I hope to hear from you soon

SIXTH PERIOD TRIG

Vickie must have read the e-mail ten times. She was confused and tried to gauge her reaction. Then it struck her. She was a teacher, a professional, someone who was to lead by example. Why was she even doubtful about what she must do. She hit the reply button, erased the previously typed text and typed STOP.

Vickie looked at the send button, placed the mouse directly over and pressed it. There, that would be the end of that. Now she could get back to normal and not worry about her unknown student. Now she didn’t have to worry about those sexy e-mails, even if it did excite her just a little. Vickie stared at the screen, the word STOP, the mouse on the send button which was still pressed down. She stayed that way for minutes and slowly, carefully moved the depressed mouse off the send button, in effect canceling the send request. Vickie sighed deeply but she felt a little bit more alive, a little bit naughty as she shut down her computer.

That night Dave Barry went to bed after waiting the longest time for a response but none came. He wondered if she received it or maybe just hadn’t opened it yet or maybe she was thinking about it. Dave Barry went to bed that night with erotic thoughts of his teacher and masturbated. When he came in an explosion of pleasure he dreamed that it was not tissue that found his hot seed but his math teacher, Miss Vickie Roach.

Vickie kaçak bahis Roach went to bed that night in the one sexy article in her wardrobe, a silky, clear nightie with dainty matching panties. Vickie went to bed without bothering to put on her skimpy panties. She laid in her bed and thought of her unknown student and masturbated. When she came, she raised her hips in pleasure and dreamed that it wasn’t her fingers that brought this excitement but her unknown student who was between her legs, cumming at the exact same moment they locked lips in a passionate kiss. She felt very sexy as she still felt the warm after glow of her orgasm but she also felt troubled when she thought about her lonely existence.

Chapter 2

Vickie tried to keep herself busy that weekend so that her thoughts would not drift to the e-mail, the e-mail that seemed to consume her thoughts. She went grocery shopping then came home and exercised. She went to a clothing store and browsed, actually looking at more modern clothes, clothes that would accentuate her figure but she could not bring herself to purchase them. When she arrived home that Saturday, she exercised some more as if doing so would answer all her questions.

The rest of the weekend was a blur and she realized more than ever how lonely she was, how few friends she had and wondered if it would ever change.

Monday morning came and Vickie readied herself for school as she had done every previous day, the same boring hairstyle, the same boring attire, the same boring Vickie.

School was normal that day. She really liked to teach and she anticipated sixth period trig more than ever but no e-mail was forthcoming nor was there one on Tuesday, Wednesday or the rest of the week, or the rest of the month and Vickie had long forgotten her e-mails.

Suddenly, the day before Thanksgiving break, there it was, an e-mail from sixth period trig. She immediately scanned the room, since that class was now in front of her. She saw no guilty faces, no telltale stares and she proceeded to open the correspondence.

Dear Miss Roach,

You never answered my last e-mail. Did you get it? If you did, then signal yes by taking your stapler out of your desk drawer and putting it in the right hand corner of your desk. If you never got it or wish these letters to stop, then do nothing. Thank you.

SIXTH PERIOD TRIG

Vickie stared at the message. The emailer wants to secretly communicate even though she is surrounded by a roomful of students. She gave it no thought as she opened her desk drawer, grasped the stapler and placed it in the right hand corner of her desk. Vickie felt naughty, she felt alive as she stared at her screen. She then realized that she needed this adventure and promised herself that she would never let it get out of hand, never let it go too far.

The next e-mail was in her inbox in minutes.

Dear Miss Roach,

I can only assume that you were confused as to what actions you should take. I believe that I should be more direct, more insistent as to what I would like you to do. This evening, I will e-mail you again with instructions. I want you to follow these directives and keep in mind that I would never, ever do anything to harm you or your career. You are able to stop this at any time.

I need some information first. I know where you live but I don’t know where your computer is situated. Use you desk as a map. The front center of your desk is your front door as seen from the street. Place the stapler on your desk to the corresponding place in your place.

SIXTH PERIOD TRIG

Vickie moved the stapler to her left side of her desk, about half way down.

Another e-mail followed.

Dear Miss Roach,

It looks like you have designated the back room on the side of your place. I’ll assume it’s the first floor.

I want you to open this e-mail at precisely 7 PM, tonight but before you do that, I want you to raise the shade in that room a few inches. Don’t be frightened, I want to look at you as you open the e-mail. If the shade is completely down then I will go home.

SIXTH PERIOD TRIG

The bell rang, the class filed out but Vickie stayed at her desk, barely acknowledging her exiting students. It dawned on her that If she were to continue, she would have to arrange for him to peep in her window. Vickie knew that a dangerous step was taken and she finished the rest of her day in a fog, knowing that she should stop this now.

Once home, Vickie went about straightening up the computer room. She had a desk on the side of the room, her exercise equipment was on the far wall with a sofa and TV on the other wall. She had arranged the room so that when she was on the treadmill she could watch TV. She glanced at the windows, two of them. Either one would let just about anyone peer into her room and see but she went to the one closer to her computer and raised the shade about 2 inches.

Vickie went to the sofa and collapsed not because she was tired but rather because she was confused, confused but excited that for the first time someone was interested in her. Vickie’s head was back against the cushion and her hand was cupping her breast as she just dreamed of nothing in particular.

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