My Former Teacher

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Arriving for her massage, Reagan Foxx sees Lucas Frost in the reception area. His back is turned to her. 'You must be my masseur', she says. He turns around. Her eyes widen as she gets a look at him. This is one fine looking man. He is wiping a table with a cloth. His eyes widen for a second too and he pauses for a split second before responding. 'Yes I am, Miss Foxx', he says. Conspicuously putting the cloth down, Lucas apologizes for her catching him unprepared, he was just cleaning up. That's ok, Reagan says, and pauses. Wait a second, how did he know her name? He looks familiar, does she know him somehow? He laughs, saying he knew her name from her file on the computer, of course. He quickly rushes her into the massage parlor. Gesturing towards the massage table, Lucas invites her to undress and lie face down. She asks him to look away. He politely obliges but sneaks a peak as she undresses and lies down on the table. Chatting, she tells him that her boyfriend bought her this massage. Her back has been sore so much lately since she got the twins. 'You have kids?' he asks. 'No, these twins', she chuckles and gestures to her huge breasts. He appreciates the craftsmanship and tells her so. Massaging her back, Lucas asks her what she does for a living. She's a teacher at the local high school. 'No kidding?!' he exclaims, though his expression reveals he may have known all along. 'You know I went to that school!' Reagan realizes, that's why he looks so familiar! She was his teacher! Lucas pretends to have a hard time remembering her, but then says it's all coming back to him. He remembers her now. Reagan says she remembers him clearly, after all he was the resident high school stud. Oh, it wasn't exactly like that, he says with false modesty. But Reagan remembers it differently. He was always running around with a new hot girl every other week. He laughs, asking her what she was like in high school. 'Oh, I never really had any boyfriends or anything like that, I was kind of a nerd', she says. But she made up for lost time, and now has an amazing boyfriend. As Lucas asks her to flip onto her back, he gives her a towel to cover her bare breasts. Handing her the towel, he is incredulous about her high school life, refusing to believe that someone with her assets-- as the towel, clearly too small for her massive breasts, slips off them-- could have any trouble finding dates. Reagan quickly picks the towel up, but Lucas clearly likes what he just saw, the moment tense as they lock eyes. They shake it off. Back to business. Well, he says, she's come a long way. From high school nerd to high school teacher. In fact, she was everyone's favorite teacher. Massaging her legs, his hand creeping toward her upper thighs, he confesses that she was more than his favorite. He had a massive crush on her. Reagan is flustered, and more than a little embarrassed. Why would he have a crush on her? He had so many other, pretty, young girls! She was just a regular old teacher. Not to him, he explains. Besides, sometimes you want someone who's experienced. Through all the years that she taught, Reagan must have had a crush on one of her students. Never! They were too young! Not all of them, Lucas reminds her, for example he was 18 when she taught him. Reagan admits that's true but it would still be inappropriate for a teacher to have a crush on her students. Lucas coaxes her, so there was never ANYBODY? Well, Reagan admits, there may have been one person, but she hasn't thought of him in years. 'Was it someone in my year?', he asks as his hands creep up her thighs, kneading her muscles. 'I can't tell YOU that', she answers with a laugh. Well, he'll get it out of her somehow. She chuckles at his last comment off dreamily, lost in his touch. Seeing how much she is enjoying it, he offers to give her a special massage for her chest. He would normally charge extra for it, but since they're old 'friends', he'll give her a freebie. She hesitates. Her boyfriend would definitely not approve of this. Lucas understands and assures her that this is a clinical technique, completely professional and therapeutic only. Admitting that nothing seems to help her back these days, she relents, cautioning him playfully to keep it professional. 'Yes, Miss Foxx', he says slyly. As he pours oil and works her breasts, Lucas's hand caresses her nipple and she lets out a small, involuntary moan. So who was this mysterious student Reagan had a crush on when she was teaching? Eyes closed, becoming increasingly relaxed from the breast massage, she still refuses to tell him. Maybe he can just ask her questions and she can just say yes or no? And if he guesses the person right, she'll promise to tell him? Fine, she sighs, lost in his expert touch. Was it someone in Lucas's year? Yes, she answers. Was he in the history class that she taught? Yes. Was he on the football team? Yes. Well, Lucas was on the football team. Was it the quarterback? No. Linebacker? No.