Umm, why does my shitty story have over 1k reads, and why am I crying about it?
But seriously though, thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read this piece of junk. I really appreciate it<3!
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- Monday (week 3) -
"Everyone's rough drafts for the Wuithering Heights assignment needs to be turned in by this Friday. I will not be taking them any later than that. No exceptions."
By now in the year, I'm already so far behind on all my classwork it's honestly embarrassing. I would say that I had a valid excuse for why that is. If the fact that you can't stop thinking about doing inappropriate things to your English teacher is a valid excuse.
"Remember the rubric-- at least three paragraphs and at least 800 hundreds word minimum."
I honestly don't understand how anyone can pay attention in his class. The only thing I'm paying attention too is his lips and not the words coming out of them.
"Also remember that this essay is expository, which means it should be about a personal experience that shows you mirror a character from the book in some type of way."
Were those lips previously on mine just days ago...yeah. Do I want them to be on mine again...I don't fucking know, how dare you ask me that question!
The dismissal bells rings throughout the school, breaking me away from my thoughts and also making me jump slightly. I do the same routine that I do everyday and pack up my stuff just like everyone else before leaving the classroom.
Usually when something happens between Professor Dickhead and I, he usually just ignores my presence and acts like I'm the bubonic plague or something. Today though was different. The entire lesson I could feel his eye lingering on me, his gaze physically burning. Of course being the awkward person that I am--I tried to avoid all eye contact and only look at him when his attention is diverted elsewhere.
I'm still sticking to my decision and saying that this thing between us--whatever it is--is wrong. Yes, I may not be the most mature person in the world and having a quickie in the janitorial closet with one of my superiors does sound like something I would do, but I'm also not four years old and I know my right from wrong.
And this...this is wrong.
Wrong
Wrong
Wrong
Jesus, we get it. Damn, who knew you were such a goody-two-shoes? Just let the man feel you up a little. Just one grope--nothing major.
Do you have an off button?
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ALEXANDER WILLIAMS
Sex.
That's what I think of every time I walk into Temptations. The club is basically a vessel to it. Alcohol, suggestive dancing, private lounges. But most importantly, the feeling that you get when you walk in. The feeling of lust tainting your skin.
I always knew my father would pass down his lives work to me after he died--but I don't think he ever intended for me to be this successful. Bastard never believed in me, never thought I could make anything out of myself. But look what I have now...one of Chicagos most infamous clubs, a job that I've always wanted, money, sex, girls...well, girl.
One girl.
One girl that I don't have.
But I have every fucking intention in changing that--making her mine.
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Please Me
Romance**MATURE CONTENT {18+}** "You know there are punishments for breaking the rules, Ms. Parks," Mr. Williams almost purrs with a daring glint in his eyes. My only response to him though is a single scoff. "And you know that I don't care, right?" I end...
