Ethan scribbled in his notebook but zoned out, plotting the seduction with Tabu: start with compliments on her teaching, shift to her beauty, touch her hand, and make her feel seen and wanted.
No one sat near him uninvited, the seats around him empty like a buffer zone of respect or fear. The bell finally rang, sharp and freeing.
Halls emptied quickly, kids rushing to buses and cars, lockers slamming in waves that echoed down the corridors.
He headed to Tabu's room, heart steady but pulse quickening with the thrill of the hunt.
The plan: start with math, shift personnel.
Touch her. Make her want it.
Break through that resistance.
Her door was open, light spilling into the hall like an invitation.
She sat at her desk, grading papers with a red pen, scratching quick, dark hair in that professional bun, blouse unbuttoned one extra notch for the heat in the room, hinting at cleavage that rose with each breath.
Forty, Indian beauty—olive skin smooth and glowing under the desk lamp, full lips pursed in concentration, eyes like polished onyx behind thin glasses. Curves that her chair couldn't hide: full breasts straining the fabric, hips wide under the desk, and legs crossed in stockings.
She looked up as he knocked lightly and smiled warmly and genuinely.
"Ethan. Right on time. Come in. Close the door if you want privacy; we can talk openly about whatever's on your mind."
He did, the click of the lock echoing softly, and sat across from her in the student chair that felt too small for his frame.
"Thanks for seeing me, Mrs. Tabu."
"Of course. What's on your mind? More about Marcus from yesterday? Or class material?"
He started with math, integrals, and a fake question to build rapport and ease in.
"I'm stuck on this derivative chain rule problem from homework. Can you walk me through it step by step?"
She nodded, pulling out fresh paper, explaining patiently and clearly, leaning over the desk to draw diagrams with neat lines, her scent—jasmine and something warmer, like sandalwood from her perfume—wafting across the small space, intoxicating. Her blouse gaped slightly as she bent, showing the lace edge of her bra, the swell of her breasts rising with her breaths.
He complimented Casual: "You're amazing at this. Makes it so simple, the way you break it down. Best teacher I've had."
She smiled, flushing light under her olive skin, a pink tint on her cheeks.
"Thanks, Ethan. You pick it up fast. Always has been one of my top students."
Shifted to personal slow, testing the waters carefully.
"You seem tired lately. Bags under your eyes, like you're not sleeping well. Is everything okay at home? Husband away again on one of those long trips?"
She stiffened immediately, pen pausing mid-stroke, body tensing in the chair like a spring. "That's... personal, Ethan. Let's stick to math. School stuff only. We have boundaries for a reason, you know that."
He reached across the desk, touched her hand lightly, fingers brushing hers in a way that sent a spark through both, his skin warm against hers.
"I just care. You work so hard here, teaching us, making sure we get it. Deserve better than stress and loneliness."
She pulled away slowly, but not immediately, eyes guarded and wary, a flicker of conflict in them. "Ethan, that's kind, but inappropriate for a student-teacher talk. We could get in serious trouble. We have to keep things professional."
Hard.
Not responding like he'd hoped, body tense, crossing arms under her breasts, pushing them up in a way that was distracting but she meant business, her posture screaming defense, legs uncrossing and recrossing nervously.
He tried charm: "Sorry if it came off wrong. Just... you're beautiful. Intelligent. Women like you shouldn't be stressed alone.
It's not fair."
"Stop."
Her voice was firm and sharp as a whip, eyes narrowing behind her glasses.
"This crosses lines completely. If that's all you wanted to talk about, we can end here. I have grading to finish, and this conversation is over."
Frustration boiled in him like acid on metal. She was resistant, with walls up high as a fortress. Perhaps her marriage, her cultural background, or her professional ethics as a teacher, something holding her back tight as chains.
He needed an edge, something to crack that shell wide open.
Mentally, he pulled up the system shop, the blue interface shimmering in his vision like a secret hud, overlaying the room without her seeing.
Shop: Open.
The categories scrolled fast: buffs for strength and speed boosts; items like vibrators or restraints for harem play; potions for various effects; and glowing icons with descriptions.
He navigated to potions: healing elixirs that knit wounds in seconds, strength boosts for temporary surges that could make him lift cars, and then there—Arousal Pheromone Potion. Description popped up in glowing text: Drink once; it activates on command with a thought or word. Releases a subtle scent that arouses women in proximity, heightening desire, lowering inhibitions, and making them wet and eager for touch. Effects last indefinitely until deactivated, adjustable intensity.
Cost: 1500 Lust Points.
He had zero now—all spent on the body upgrades that had turned him into this beast of a man. "Shit," he thought, frustration spiking higher.
Next time, after another MILF is broken and points are earned.
Latoya, perhaps—push her seduction faster, get those 1000 for the initial break, plus 500 bonus for full submission and harem addition.
For now, no potion.
Back to manual labor, old-school charm and persistence, wearing her down like water on stone.
He tried again, standing slowly to close the physical space, the room feeling smaller with his bulk filling it, shadow falling over her desk.
"Fatima... please. Let me help relieve that stress. You look like you need it—shoulders tense, eyes tired. I can see it, the way you carry it all."
Touched her shoulder this time, fingers light but firm on the fabric of her blouse, massaging slightly into the knot there, thumbs circling slowly.
She froze, breath quickening audibly in the quiet room, but didn't slap it away immediately. "Ethan... this is wrong. I'm married. Your teacher. We could both get in trouble and lose everything."
"But it feels good, right?"
He stepped closer, hand sliding down to her waist, pulling her gently from the chair with a strength she couldn't resist without fighting. She stood, body close to his, heat radiating through clothes.
"Just a touch. No harm in that. Let me make you feel better."
She flushed deeper, eyes softening despite herself, hand coming up to his arm, not pushing, gripping the muscle there, feeling the hardness under her fingers.
"God... it does. But we can't.
Please understand, this isn't me."
"But it is," he murmured, leaning in, lips brushing her neck softly, tasting salt and perfume, his breath hot on her skin.
Mhhmm!
She moaned low, her body melting against him, curves pressing, full breasts soft on his chest, hips grinding instinctively against his growing hard-on through the jeans.
"See? You want this. Your body's saying yes, loud and clear."
They talked hushed then, her loneliness spilling out in whispers, voice cracking.
"Raj's always away. Work, trips to conferences. I feel invisible at home, like a ghost in my own life."
He groped her ass, firm, round curves filling his hands perfectly, squeezing until she gasped. She gasped but pressed back, hips grinding slightly against him, desire winning over resistance. "More tomorrow. Promise me you'll come back. I... I need this."
He nodded, voice rough with want.
"I'll be here.
And we'll do more than talk. Much more."
Progress: 20%.
She was cracking, resistance crumbling under his touch like sand.
She left first, gathering papers with shaking hands, blouse rumpled from his grip, heels clicking down the empty hall, glancing back with hungry eyes, lips parted in a mix of shame and desire, her bun slightly loose now.
Ethan stepped out, mind buzzing with victory, the taste of her skin on his lips, and her moan echoing in his ears.
He didn't want to rush it with her, as he wasn't familiar with her, and pushing her would only lead to disaster. He decided to take his time, savoring the chase and enjoying every moment of their inevitable encounter.
Then he saw her: Latoya Tate crossing the parking lot, jeans tight on that juicy ass, each step making it bounce and jiggle in a rhythm that made his cock twitch, sweater hugging her heavy tits that swayed with movement, braids swinging down her back like ropes. Worried stride toward the office, purse over shoulder, face set in determination, brows furrowed deep.
"Ethan!"
She waved, spotting him, her face lighting with relief mixed with something warmer, perhaps that spark from last night on her porch.
He approached, opportunity screaming in his head like a siren, steps quick across the asphalt. "Latoya. What brings you to school this late? Office closing soon."
Her full lips pursed, worry creasing her brow as she stopped, hips cocking to one side.
"Came to talk to the principal about Marcus. He won't say a word about what happened—pride or something won't let me in on it. But I need answers. Can't have my boy hurt like that without knowing why or who did it. It's eating me up."
Ethan touched her arm gently, feeling the soft, warm skin under his fingers, his thumb stroking slightly to test.
"Don't trouble yourself with that. Going to the principal might stir shit up and get people talking more. I'll find out what happened. Very quietly. Talk to people, get the truth without names attached or drama."
She looked up at him, grateful, eyes shining with unshed tears of relief, her voluptuous body relaxing slightly.
"You'd do that for us? For me? After bringing him home last night... you're too good, Ethan.
A real blessing."
"For you," he said, voice low and intimate, hand lingering on her arm, feeling the heat build.
Thanks lit her face, a smile breaking through like sun after rain, full lips curving.
"Bless you, Ethan. You're a godsend. And remember, you're welcome at our house anytime. The door's always open for you, day or night. Mean it from the bottom of my heart."
"How about now?" he said, seeing the opening wide as a door, voice smooth.
"Need a ride home? We can talk more on the way."
She hesitated a beat, eyes flicking to his body, the way his hoodie hugged his chest, then nodded.
"Sure. The car's over there."
Her sedan was older but clean inside—an air freshener with a pine scent hanging from the mirror, seats worn but comfortable with that lived-in feel, and the radio on low with R&B playing softly, a slow jam about desire.
She drove, curves shifting with every turn of the wheel, thighs rubbing together in the jeans with a whisper, and tits bouncing slightly over bumps in the road. Talked about her day at the hospital shift, patients, and long hours, his school stuff with the shock waves.
Dropped him at his house, hand on his thigh, brief and warm through the jeans, fingers squeezing lightly.
"See you soon, Ethan. And thanks again. I really mean it. Come visit me often, I would like to express my gratitude."
Ethan grinned, "Sure, I will drop by tomorrow."
[Progress: 30%.]
He watched her drive away, ass visible in the rearview as she leaned to adjust the mirror. The game rolled on, darker and hotter with every step.