Thread: What They Don't Teach You (Astarte x MobiusAce)

Her uneasiness had grown a sense of foreboding and his strong hand on her knee had kept her from moving but those lucid eyes of hers spoke volumes as she glared up at him. His conduct had quickly crossed over the line and she was sure that Andrew was acutely aware of that fact. But there was more to this than what was on the surface. By giving her his code, he was letting her know that there was something on there for her so see. Allison swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. The corners of her lips tugging downward as he flashed the smile. The look of satisfaction he had worn the rest of the period was a stark contrast to her own stern expression. She wouldn't play into his hand anymore than she already had. At least, that was her original intention. About an hour into her third class, Ms. Maddox pardoned herself to the office under the guise of making copies of a study guide for an upcoming test. The teacher's conference room would be empty. Most of the staff took care of their major projects at either the beginning or the end of the day. Only a handful would come in at the beginning of a class, realizing that they had forgotten something. After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she sat down at one the tables before bringing out Andrew's phone. 1234. She said the numbers aloud as her thumb lightly tapped the screen. She checked to make sure the volume was down just in case. Idly, she glanced over the selection of games since it was one of those that had caused it to get take away. A quick scan of his text messages showed that he hadn't been talking to anyone during class. Most were boring things that any teen discussed. Plans for the weekend, complaining about homework and tests, talking about this girl and that. Nothing all that shocking. Just what was he hiding? Why did he bother giving her the password if there was nothing here to be found. There was one last thing to check, the media files. And that was when she saw herself, or at least the stupid idiot she used to be. It was like watching a train wreck. Horrified by the atrocity but unable to pull your eyes away. There were a few stills. The very first one was the clearest. A picture of her, forehead dampened with sweat. Her chocolate colored tresses sticking to her damp body. Cum spilling from the corner of her mouth and down her cleavage, looking straight into the camera with lusty eyes while her fingers were buried between her legs. Another of her eating out the girl who was best friend at the time while riding the male beneath her. The flesh of her large breasts spilling out between his fingers as he gripped them. Video files over ten minutes long but with her in the preview image. She hadn't even remembered when this happened, much less any of her 'sessions' containing a camera. She had been fresh out of Beaufort. Her parents were so happy that she had chosen a private university in New York to continue her education. Little did they know that she picked the place because it was consistently ranked in the top ten party schools. Allison would come up with excuses for money, blowing it on drugs and alcohol. Her nights, weekends, and holidays were spent out clubbing and picking up guys, using them wantonly before discarding them for the next. She was like a hungry wolf finally released from her cage. She wanted to experience everything she could in the shortest amount of time possible. But her slipping grades and behavior had gotten her essentially expelled. It was only thanks to some favors called in and money being thrown at the problem, did she manage to keep it off her record, opting instead to a transfer to another college closer to home to finish out he degree. Once there and now under a closer watch, she buckled down and straightened up. That was a turning point for the young woman but it seemed that nothing stayed buried forever. Finally the end of the day came and she heard the knocking at the door. Close the door behind you and take a seat. I don't plan on this taking too long. She tried to keep her voice steady, to act like nothing was wrong. She hadn't done anything to his phone, all of the images were left in tact. After all, until he gave her more ammunition, she couldn't even be sure that he had recognized her. It may all have just been a string of coincidences and deleting anything would be admitting guilt one way or another. Either to the content itself or having broken Beaufort's rules about student privacy. If he was aware that it was her in the pictures, he had likely planned for any contingency where she would delete them. I know a phone is technically your lifeline, but I've discussed it with the principal and your coach. They agree that it is best for it not to be returned immediately. Depending on how our meeting today goes, your parents may or may not be called into a conference. Possibly getting pulled from the wrestling team, or at least sitting out the next few matches. But I thought I'd speak with you first to gauge just how serious you are about bringing your grades up on your own before any consequences were made concrete. It was a bluff, but maybe it would work.