They went to an upscale restaurant in the nearest larger city and enjoyed a very delicious meal in a modestly romantic setting. It was dark, and the tables were lit only by candles. Kyle slipped the waiter a twenty and he brought them a bottle of wine which allowed him to toast their love.As the meal wound down, Kyle leaned close and asked, "Stephanie, if I promise we will not go beyond last night, can I get a room so that we don't need to be cramped in the car?"The ambiance was perfect, the wine was delicious and his timing just right. "If you promise that's all we'll do, I guess it would be okay."Twenty minutes later he had found a motel, registered and guided her to their room. He made a big deal out of double locking the door and checking the curtains to let her feel secure. He began to undress, and helped her out of hers as well. Carefully, he hung his suit jacket and pants in the closet, removed his shirt, tie and socks and shies and then folded down the bed covers. His shorts. He remembered her a couple years ago, on the last day of school before break, crying until her face was red and bloated, confessing her love for him in stuttering clichés. He had given her tissues and tried to let her down easy. Ryan had tried to make out like he was a responsible adult with responsible adult desires that didn't include his own students.But he wasn't. He told that lie every time he got up in front of his students looking professional, every time he talked to one of the other teachers, and on every doomed date. Lust – lust for his students, lust for those nubile teenage girls who hung on his every word – was what Ryan kept in his psychic closet, trying not to examine it, but constantly aware of his presence.Ryan had never slept with any of them, which was more than he could say for some of his colleagues. But the desire felt like it would one day drive him either between the skirt-clad legs of one of his girls or into the nuthouse. Especially these last classes, with.
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