The college students wait in anxious anticipation of their new teachers entrance. The classroom is a curious place for an English Composition class.

Black tables are lined up in smart rows with sleek LCD monitors on top.

The walls are starkly unadorned and silent about the rooms purpose. The teacher enters.

Her tight black jeans, sharp-toed boots, and fashionable jacket catch at least one students eye. She carries a pile of bound papers and nervously smiles. Her name is Mysti and she teaches to convey her obvious love of writing. Students, young and old, seek out her class and love her for her zest for life and unconventional style. Jack sits back and watches the scene unfold. He observes Mystis medium length brown hair dance about her round face. The teacher makes a case for the classes format. The students will write a book. Undeterred, the students silently agree to undertake the goal, but not without some fear and trepidation. Jack cannot help but feel Mystis attraction.

Her petite, yet athletic form seems to fit her intelligence and exuberant personality. A pretty white bra is barely visible through her white cotton shirt. If only he wasnt so shy.

He would die for the undivided attention of a beautiful woman like this. It is a lonely life being a thoughtful introvert. OK class, write down the first things that come to your minds. What is she up to? Jack anxiously awaits, pencil at the ready.

Name a fruit a color a street a city a river a month a professions and a fear.

Lets see strawberry, red, Gulfway Drive, Port Arthur, Sabine, January, Professor, and failing.

Now, use those words and write about the first time you made love. Wow! Made love? The best and most lovemaking Ive ever had is in my mind, Jack muses. I should write about a fantasy I have had. But, I cant. The Editor tries to interdict.

Coitus interruptus! Oh what the heck, Ill change her name and go wild! Jacks pencil starts moving and not stopping.

The Spring Semester starts in January. It was an unusually warm month for Port Arthur when my English professor asked me to meet her during office hours. I inevitably worried that I must be in trouble. My mind races and then I knock.

Please close the door, Anne requests.

She sits at a cluttered desk.

Her demeanor is friendly and I relax. Anne indicates that I sit in a chair close to her. I sense her perfume. Her proximity makes me feel out of body.

I cannot help myself and my hand unintentionally grazes her muscular thigh. Her red lips come closer to me. Those blue eyes envelop me. A kiss and our passion flows like the Sabine River at high tide, ebbing and flowing. I pick her up and lay her on the desk.

Papers fly, like pigeons scattering, as I roughly push up her shirt and bra.

Under the bra, Annes flesh stands up, tall and flushed, like strawberries.

I feel their texture like ripples on my tongue. Anne frantically pushed down her pants and pink panties. Her lips are glistening and inviting. Another kiss, but it is different this time. The taste is musky and intoxicating. We melt together. Our passion plays out in a crescendo of throbbing contractions. We hold each other, not wanting to let go.

Our extended embrace on the Southwesten rug filled a basic and yet too often unfulfilled need.

It was like a long, slow, Sunday drive down Gulfway Drive on a cool, dry day. That was the first of many times I was summoned to Annes office that semester. The other students must have thought I was failing. I loved being near her. She was mystical. Jack wanted to fold the pages over in his journal.

That meant for the teacher to not read the pages. Boy, did he go wild! Life marched ahead and the journal filled with other writings.

Unsure how Mysti would take his provocative prose, Jack awaited.

Upon the journals return, Jack noted Mystis yellow highlighting.

Words like tall and flushed were underlined. Also glistening and inviting and throbbing contractions. A happy face was that a wink and plus symbol followed the essay.

What is that? A nearly illegible postscript saying Please meet me during office hours.

Oh God! In trouble again