I tried to get a rhythm going, five minutes on the files, five minutes on the math. I'm usually okay at multitasking, but the physics of the room were working against me. Gravity was centered entirely on the gap in her blouse. It was like a black hole; no matter how hard I tried to stare at the quadratic equations, my eyes just kept getting sucked back to that pale, lace-edged abyss.
I was sweating, and it wasn't just the room. The scent of her perfume was mixing with the faint, sharp tang of perspiration, hers and mine, making the air feel thick enough to chew.
Hasegawa didn't miss my struggle. She leaned over, her voice a low, controlled hiss that vibrated in my ear. "Having… difficulties, Romi? Your concentration seems completely compromised."
She tapped the desk, the sound like a hammer. Every time she breathed, the fabric of her open blouse shifted just a fraction of an inch, testing my sanity.
"Well, yeah," I blurted out, my filter finally failing. "It's your chest, Sensei. What's the deal with the button? I thought you'd have fixed it by now. It's been twenty-four hours and it's… it's still just open."
Hasegawa stiffened. A flash of irritation, or maybe something she was trying to hide, flickered across her face. She glanced down at herself as if she'd only just noticed, though the way she'd been carrying herself suggested otherwise.
"That is none of your concern," she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a cold blade. She made a half-hearted attempt to pull the fabric together, but it just settled back into the same distracting V-shape. "My attire is irrelevant. Focus on the files, not on… extraneous details."
She stepped back, but the office was too small for the distance to matter. "Unless you'd like to explain why you're more interested in my wardrobe than your future?"
"It's just… it's really distracting, okay?"
Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Distracting?" She took a deliberate step back into my space, her shadow looming over the desk. "Let me be perfectly clear: my appearance is not an excuse for your lack of discipline. Redirect your attention immediately, or I will find much more… creative ways to motivate you."
"Like what?"
A faint, predatory smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. "Oh, I have my methods. Extra assignments. Total loss of your weekends. Or perhaps a personal review of every single mistake you make, read aloud, line by line, in front of the entire class."
She leaned in until I could feel the heat radiating off her. The red pen tapped against the wood. "Or maybe I'll come up with something even more unpleasant. Want to test me?"
I felt like a fish on a hook. "No thanks," I muttered, looking back at the paper. "I'm focusing. See? Focusing."
She nodded, a smug bit of satisfaction crossing her features. "A wise choice. I'll be right here if you need… guidance."
The next hour was a blur of frantic writing and sorting. I stole a few more glances, I couldn't help it, but I managed to finish right as the clock hit 10:00 AM.
Hasegawa hovered over me, inspecting the work with a clinical eye. "Acceptable. Barely." She gathered the files, her movements sharp. "You've finished just in time. Perhaps there's hope for you yet. Now, get to class. And don't forget: punctuality is non-negotiable."
"Right. Going now." I scrambled to shove my stuff into my bag, desperate to escape the tension before I did something stupid.
"Wait!"
Her hand shot out, catching my wrist. I froze. "Your performance today… it wasn't entirely unsatisfactory," she said, her voice dropping an octave. "A small reward for meeting the bare minimum. Don't let it go to your head—this is purely a professional incentive. So, tell me. What do you want?"
My brain short-circuited. A reward?
Boobs.
That's nice. I could ask for an A in the class.
Boobs…
Or ask for the day off so I can go to the pool!
BOOBS!!!
Shut up, you fucking useless brain!Is boob all the things you can think for now? What's wrong with you? What's wrong with me?
I muttered to myself. I looked at her, my face burning. I felt like a total creep, but I couldn't stop my eyes from dropping to her chest. That's it. Day off. Pool. And summer. That's all I need.
"Well, uh… there's one thing. I think you already know what it is."
Hasegawa froze. Her eyes went wide for a split second before she masked it with a glare. She crossed her arms, which only pushed her chest out further. "I beg your pardon?"
Her voice was icy, but the deep red flush creeping up her neck told a different story.
"Actually, never mind," I said, turning for the door. "Forget it. I'm going to class."
"Hold on." She grabbed my arm again, her grip firm but surprisingly warm. The anger was gone, replaced by a heavy, charged curiosity. "You said I know what it is. I want to hear you say it. Tell me exactly what you want from me. In detail."
The silence in the room was absolute. I could hear my own heart thudding in my ears. I turned back to her, my face feeling like a tomato. I looked her dead in the eye, the words falling out of my mouth before I could stop them.
"I… I want to touch your boobs."
Hasegawa's breath hitched. A visible shudder ran through her entire body. She didn't slap me. She didn't scream. Instead, a flash of something that looked like raw arousal crossed her face. She took a step closer, invading my space until her chest was barely an inch from my face.
"You… you want to touch my breasts?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
She reached up with shaking fingers to the open gap of her blouse, her face a deep, brilliant crimson. "Very well then. You can touch them."