Private Lessons by Liza Mitchell

She’s always had a sharp tongue,
and now he could finally do something about it…
It was so easy to find his weak spots, to push his buttons.
“Be honest, Mr. O…”
“Dane,” he barked as his palm crashed into her causing the desk beneath her scraped against the floor, and explosions of white sparks filled her vision.
“You,” she said through ragged breaths, “be honest. You’ve been thinking about me since I was your student. What I wear has never mattered, Mr. O.” She held on to that last syllable, letting it rise and fall with her labored breathing… just like she did years ago in his classroom…