Mr. Tucker

  Mr. Tucker

  Justine Elvira

  Edited by Eileen Proksch

  Cover by Robin Harper

  © 2016 Justine Elvira

  [email protected]

  All rights reserved. This book contains material under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any Unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events, places, businesses, or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

  Cover image used under license from shutterstock.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

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  Chapter One

  September

  "This year is going to be epic. We finally rule the school and we'll be graduating in nine short months," Anna Belle cheerfully states. Her curly blond hair–created from sleeping in curlers at night–bounces on her shoulders as she hops up and down with excitement. I shut my rusty locker door and try to prepare myself for the first day of my senior year of high school.

  There was a time, not long ago, that I thought this day would never come. There were so many obstacles in the way and I thought I'd become another high school statistic that local, state, and national government could refer to and make promises to fix, knowing their words were empty promises. My plan was to wait until I was sixteen and then ditch this town–there was nothing here for me. Thankfully, I pulled my head out of my ass in time to realize a high school education was what I needed to secure a decent job to support myself. I stayed, even though I was completely miserable, and now I can't wait for the next nine months to breeze by so I can graduate and focus on my next step in life.

  "What class do we have after homeroom?" I ask as we stand at my locker and wait for the other two girls in our clique to show up.

  "I think we have gym first period, which means Mr. Simpson is our homeroom teacher again this year."

  "Ewe, gross," we both say in unison and then burst out laughing. Mr. Simpson's middle-aged and overweight with a large potbelly. He tends to wear his clothing a size too small so we'll be forced to see an inch or two of his hairy belly as he perspires in the September heat. It wouldn't be so bad if his sleazy eyes weren’t scamming on all of us underage girls as he tried to find any activity that caused us to bounce our tits and bend over the most.

  My gym clothes are old and donated so I'll have to be extra careful in class. My shorts are a size too small and if I bend over the right way he'll be getting the view he wants and the view I never want to show him.

  I've lived in this small town near the Appalachian Mountains in Tennessee my entire life and there is a huge divide between the wealthy and the poor in this town. The rich keep getting richer and the poor–that's me–continue to struggle to put food on the table. By the time I was fourteen I was already working part-time at our town's full-service gas station.

  It pays decent and the hours aren't bad, but it's awkward when I'm forced to wait on a schoolmate, or worse, one of my friends.

  Anna Belle is one of those friends. Her family comes from old money and she never wants for anything. Jo Lynne and Addison, the other two girls who finish off our foursome, are also wealthy. When I really take the time and think about how the upper class treat the poor folks in this town, I'm actually lucky these girls even speak to me.

  Well, I guess I'm not lucky. They talk to me because of my family legacy and my desirable looks. I come from a long line of prom queens at this school and a few women in my family went on to be crowned Miss Tennessee. My mother, her mother, and my sister just a few short years ago, were all crowned with the title of Miss Tennessee, despite the fact that they never entered a pageant before in their lives. My mother and grandmother–before she passed–ended up staying here after serving a year as Miss Tennessee, but my sister fled this dive the minute she had the chance. Last I heard she's somewhere in South Beach bikini modeling and mingling with the stars.

  "What's up, bitches?" Jo Lynne shouts from down the hall as she makes her way over to my locker. She's in a floral sundress with a denim jacket over it and white sandals with a hint of tan on her feet. Her satin smooth dark hair is up in a high ponytail. Addison is next to her with a huge grin on her face as she waves over at Anna Belle and me. She's dressed more casual in jeans and a white t-shirt, but it's all designer clothing, I'm sure. I smile and wave back as I wait the few seconds it takes for them to meet me in front of my locker.

  "I was hoping to have a better tan on the first day of school but I'm still lighter than you, Savannah." Jo Lynne laughs and I look down at my bronze tanned skin. I'm only this dark because of working at the gas station and if she rolled up my short sleeve shirt she would see I have a massive farmer's tan.

  "My tan will fade," I assure her. "I thought you laid out at the lake yesterday?"

  "Well, that was the plan.” She giggles. "But a few of the guys on the football team broke up the party and I ended up spending the afternoon in the lower cabin of Spencer's parents' boat."

  "Did you finally lose your V-card?" Anna Belle asks from beside me and I'm immediately uncomfortable with the conversation. I'm nothing close to a prude but her answer is important. If Jo Lynne went all the way with Spencer that would mean I'm the last virgin in my group...and they'll give me hell about it.

  "Yes, finally. And he was amazing the second time that afternoon. The first time he came in the condom a few seconds after popping my cherry."

  "These high school boys are like that. They don’t have the willpower to hold off and make it good for the girl. They're too focused on the fact that a naked girl is in front of them to worry about anything else."

  "Yeah, that's definitely how it was the first time. We stayed in the boat for a few hours after and then slept together again. The second time he got me off before fucking me. It was much better. I'm so glad I lost it to Spencer before the start of our senior year because now I'll know what to do when the other football players come around."

  "Wait, so you and Spencer aren't going out?" I ask naively. I thought if she slept with him she'd at least be going out with him. Jo Lynne is much more traditional than the rest of us. It surprises me that she'd sleep with someone who wasn't committed to her.

  "Don't be silly. Spencer doesn't do the girlfriend thing and I don’t want to be tied down. I just wanted to know what it felt like before I make a play for someone better. Now I know."

  This truly shocks me.

  Anna Belle turns and focuses on me as she nudges me with her shoulder. "Looks like you're the last one up, Savannah. You know you only have until spring break."

  "God, don't remind me."

  I guess this is the time where I should tell you about the s
enior bet. It's a tradition that has been passed down from one class to the next and involves every senior girl. In order to be nominated for prom queen you have to lose your V-card. I'm not sure what year the senior bet originated, and I was really hoping our class would be the one to change the unofficial rules, but by the way Anna Belle is looking at me right now I know I have no chance of getting nominated by my peers if I'm walking around with my hymen intact.

  It's not that I don't want to have sex, because I do, I really do. My hormones are uncontrollable most of the time and I'm a frequent masturbator. I just don't want an experience like Jo Lynne's. I don't want some inexperienced high school boy who'll come inside me just because my warm pussy is wrapped around his cock. There's got to be something in it for me.

  "You should just do it with Chett. You're already fooling around with him and he wants in your pants so bad. It's all he talks about. Plus, he's the captain of the football team so if you fuck him you'll be guaranteed the crown."

  Anna Belle has a point about Chett, but I don't want my first time to be with him. Sure, we fool around a lot. He loves when I suck him off and after some instruction he's become an expert at making me come with his tongue, but oral is as far as I'll go with him. I like older men. I want a man with experience. I need a guy who will make me cry in pain as he breaks through my barrier and thrusts inside me but then cry out in ecstasy as I come shortly after. This has been my fantasy plan all along.

  If I don't find the right older guy by December, I've already decided I'm going to let Dylan fuck me in the back room of the gas station. He's twenty-three, sexy, and the women in this town go crazy over him so he must be good in the sack. We flirt a lot at work, and although I'm not interested in him, he definitely turns me on physically and in the past I've had a wet dream or two about him.

  If sex meant anything to me I wouldn't be so loose with my morals but it doesn't. This day in age, sex can mean a lot of things or it can mean nothing at all. I'm choosing for it to mean nothing at all. The only reason I'm being picky is because I want it to feel incredible and not like I wasted thirty seconds of my life. I'm not a giving person so I'm not going to give some guy a free place to get off if he can't get me off in return.

  This whole senior bet thing probably sounds absolutely ridiculous to outsiders but my sister, mother, aunt, and even my grandma were all crowned prom queen when they attended here. I have to keep our family's tradition alive–it's the only thing we have. I'm a legacy in this town and if I'm not crowned prom queen I let my entire family down.

  So you see, I have things to accomplish this year and the most important task at the top of this list is to lose my virginity. The high school crown is as far as I'll go, though. There's no way in hell I'll enter myself to be in the running for Miss Tennessee next year. I plan on being somewhere across the country by that time.

  "Chett's fun and all but I'm not fucking him. This isn't news–he knows that. I've told him many times. He's free to be with whomever he wants. We're just having fun."

  "So why not have fun and lose your virginity at the same time? I don't know why you won’t just do it with him."

  "It's because she's waiting for some ruggedly handsome older man with experience to lose it to. What about Dylan from the GG-mart station?" Addison asks as she raises her eyebrows inquisitively.

  "It'll probably be Dylan but I have to wait until I'm no longer jailbait. He won't touch me before then. I turn eighteen on December second and I plan on gifting myself a few orgasms from that man if I haven't lost my virginity by then."

  "Just remember," Anna Belle buzzes in again, "You only have until spring break so you better get a plan in motion or you'll lose out on your nomination."

  "Are we done talking about my virginity? I didn't know this was an open discussion. It's taking away from Jo Lynne and yesterday's afternoon delight."

  My attempt to change the subject works and my friends take the bait. Soon Jo Lynne is giving a play by play of everything Spencer did to her body yesterday. She seems happy, so I'm happy for her and when the first bell rings she's forced to drop the subject as the four of us head to homeroom inside the gym where we'll get to spend the next fifteen minutes listening to announcements and new school rules. Then the second bell will ring and we'll be in gym for fifty minutes of daily exercise.

  Only nine more months of this structured hell and I'm free.

  ***

  The thing about small towns is we have small schools. My entire high school only has four hundred and sixty one students and my senior class consists of one hundred and nine of them, which makes going unnoticed pretty impossible. With only one more period left today I've managed to have at least one class with every senior here.

  Each one of my classes was as boring and mundane as last year and the only thing keeping me awake and alert is the repetitive buzz of my pay-as-you-go cell phone. I saved up for months to get this phone and almost all of my spare money goes into buying minutes and data.

  While I haven't received many texts from my close friends, I'm involved in a large group chat on Instagram and my phone is buzzing with notifications. Do you want to know what the gossip is? Apparently we have some new, hot history teacher. Every girl has something to say about him.

  Did you see his ass...I want a private history lesson from him...Mr. Tucker? More like Mr. Fucker...I bet he's married...Do you think he cheats on his wife...With a body like that he'd be stupid not to...I didn't see a ring...I heard he's related to someone at this school...How old is he...

  Those are just some of the messages that have provided me reading material throughout the day. I've found the excitement of a new teacher mixed with how entertaining my classmates’ delusions are, were enough to get me through the day.

  The bell rings, dismissing me from eighth period and as I walk out the door Jo Lynne, Anna Belle, and Addison immediately surround me. "We've just come from history and you're not going to believe how mouthwateringly hot the new teacher is,” Addison mumbles in excitement.

  I knew there would be a new teacher this year since the only history teacher retired last year after forty years of serving our community, but I never thought we'd get someone good-looking. History is my last period of the day so I haven't been able to see the fresh meat, but I suspected it would be some young woman, with her hair in a bun, dressed as a recluse. If the gossip is true...it's a nice surprise. “Oh, please, Addison, don't tell me you have a thing for a teacher. That's so cliché."

  "We live in a small southern town with names like Anna Belle and Jo Lynne. We are a fucking cliché, Savannah!" She drags a hand through the strands of her auburn hair that's pulled up in a ponytail and I notice she's not wearing her jeans and t-shirt anymore. She's already dressed for cheer practice. "It doesn’t matter what you think because he's young and totally bangable. I'd do him."

  "You'd do me, too, Addison, so that's not really saying much," Jo Lynne says, laughing under her breath.

  "I have history next so I'll check him out and let you know what I think." I brush past them without saying goodbye and run down the hallway to my last class. History is the last door on the left and every step I take on the hallway's white laminate floor reminds me that I'm stuck in this place for the rest of the school year. I duck into the classroom and look around to see what group of classmates I'll be stuck with in last hour.

  Most of the class is here already and the guys are all chatting in the back of the room. The girls on the other hand are staring with wide eyes. Their mouths hang open as they look towards the front of the room. I follow their gazes and watch as the new history teacher cleans the white board with one hand while he holds a disposable coffee cup in his other hand.

  With his back towards us I'm able to appreciate his strong form and firm backside as he bends over to pick up one of the dry erase markers that's fallen on the cheap carpet floor of the classroom. He places the marker in its holder before taking a long sip out of the Styrofoam coffee cup. When he turns around to face the
room that's when I temporarily stop breathing.

  Mr. Tucker is definitely bangable! There's no way this guy is from here.

  The new history teacher is in pressed dark denim jeans and a black vest with a modern fit dress shirt underneath. He has short, wavy brown hair and a scruffy light brown beard that's barely longer than a five o'clock shadow. His glasses rest perfectly on his face. He looks like a professor out of a college brochure instead of a small town high school history teacher. When his eyes land on mine I'm unable to think any clear thoughts and instead get lost in the grayish-blue eyes that stare back at me. Is that a hint of purple I see in his irises?

  He looks at me for what's probably considered a second too long and then breaks eye contact and addresses the class. "If everyone could please take a seat. The bell is about to ring."

  His voice is husky yet smooth, and after those two sentences I decide I want him to give a fifty minute monologue so I can hear him speak during the entire length of the class. It's not until an arm wraps around my hip that the trance Mr. Tucker has put me under is broken and I'm no longer under his spell. Chett kisses me on the cheek and then pulls me along with him to the back of the room. "Sit back here, babe, with me and the guys."

  I'm too stunned by these new, indescribable feelings I'm having towards the new teacher that I don’t fight Chett and sit down at the desk next to him in the back of the room. He's with his football buddies and they're all dressed identical in shorts and their jerseys. When the final bell rings, our new teacher shuts the classroom door and stands in the front of the room.

  "Hello class. I'm Mr. Tucker and I'll be your history teacher this year. You all are my last class of the day and I'm tired of giving the drawn-out introduction speech so I'll just tell you what you absolutely need to know."

  Damn, I was looking forward to hearing his voice all period.

  Mr. Tucker walks over to the front of his desk and sits on the edge, leaving his feet crossed in front of him and resting on the floor. His relaxed demeanor is somehow making him even more impossible to resist at the moment.