Mr. Matthew’s (part 1)
I walked down the hall towards my son’s computer science classroom.
It was parent teacher conference night, and it was the last meeting.
Austin was a brilliant kid, and I couldn’t be prouder of how his freshman year had turned out. All A’s and nothing but amazing feedback about his progress.
I was looking for room number 110 and saw the entrance on the right. I slowed my pace as I came up to it and maneuvered my black pleather purse to my right side and reached the knob with my left hand. As I was about to touch it, the door swung open and out came a woman.
“Thank you so much Mr. Matthews, I will pass along the good news. You have a wonderful evening,” the woman said. She turned around and almost ran into me. She was flustered. Her rosy cheeks turned a brighter shade of red, “Oh sorry about that,” and she walked around me. I know I shouldn’t assume things, but she seemed to have the hots for this teacher. I giggled and hoped she didn’t hear me.
“Not a problem,” she held the door open for me and I moved towards the entrance, still with my eyes on her. “Have a good night,” I smiled sweetly at her.
Turning towards the classroom, I strode into the room and looked up at Mr. Matthews. The whole world stopped as I looked into a pair of dark brown eyes attached to a milk chocolate face which had a couple days growth of scruff that was his beard. He had black hair that was puffed out into a very soft afro. And god…those arms. I remember those biceps as they had flexed under my hands…and those abs…how they tasted…and his hair…how fluffy it felt as I entangled it in my hands that night…
“Arial?” His voice was deeper than I remembered it. Did I hear a bit of huskiness? Was he remembering what I was remembering?