My name is Alex, and at twenty-one I was failing literature because of one woman—Ms. Elena Voss.
She wasn’t like any teacher I’d ever had. Thirty-four, with sharp green eyes that seemed to see right through you, full red lips, and a body that made every guy in class shift in his seat. She always wore fitted white blouses that stretched across her full breasts and tight pencil skirts that hugged her wide hips and thick ass. When she walked between the desks, her heels clicked, and her hips swayed just enough to drive me crazy. Her voice was smooth, professional, but sometimes it dropped lower when she spoke to me. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.
I sat in the back row so I could stare without getting caught. Every lecture I’d watch the way her blouse tightened when she reached up
