Hot for Teacher

I got it bad!
I got it bad!
I got it bad!

I'm hot for Teac-

>With a click and a short pop the stereo tunes out.
>That song... Why did it have to be THAT song?
>And today of all days.
>The radio homes in on your second preset, just in time for-

I got it bad, sooo bad!
I'm hot for teacher-

>Goddammit
>You turn off the radio, preferring to drive in silence rather than bare the airwaves taunting you.
>The one day you weren't a fan of Van Halen, and it seemed like all the stations worth listening to were playing nothing but.
>Maybe that crap Theo said about your luck was true. Either you hit the triple seven, or you strike out hard.
>A lump in your throat was forming, over if that rotten streak would extend to the very reason you were even out of the house when it's 90 odd degrees outside.
>Car had no working AC, and fuck rolling the windows down all the way, that's just a good way to get carjacked.
>At least the insurance payout could buy you a piece of shit that actually works. Maybe one of those new consoles?
>Nah, nothing worth playing for them yet.
>You were starting to question if there was even anything worth being out here for.
>Sweating your ass off, radio is playing the wrong songs, and the minivan in front is going five under the limit.
>It had been around two months since you even saw her last. Would she even really stay interested for that long?
>Too many of your friends came to you with sob stories of how their long distance fling fell flat.
>Not to mention your whole relationship was a bit... weird.
>So weird that the thought of it almost made you pass right by your turn, at least nobody was behind you for that rush job you pulled on the brakes.
>The shocks bucked as you rolled over the curb into the parking lot, prompting a groan as your back protested the jostle.
>But here it was, Yada's. A little hole in the wall diner that supposedly did really good rhubarb pie.
>And her favorite spot...
>Speaking of spots... where the hell were you supposed to park?
>You crawled around for a bit, trying to ignore the asthmatic wheezing under your hood to find a clear place in the little restaurant's own lot since every spot up next to it was taken.
>You spy a spot behind a burly SUV, only to find a greenpeace plastic compact squatting on your prospect, and an open spot ahead is taken by a pair in a convertible.
>Looking around, that just leaves a single open spot rather tauntingly just removed from the shade of a young tree.
>Then there was the matter of what was in the other spots in that shade, about half a dozen Harleys.
>You're pulled back towards those tv drama episodes you binged a little while ago, this many motorcycles in one place always meant trouble.
>But this isn't some gangville town held hostage by the local infamous biker club, just a corner eatery trying so hard to bring back the classic Americana feel.
>Nothing exciting ever happens in this town anyways.
>Pulling up you slam the shifter in park, trying to ignore the way the plastic handle rattles under your grip.
>The whine under the hood dies and you slide out the key, taking a deep breath to try and collect yourself.
>You're at the right place. You made sure to spruce yourself up and wear your sunday best. And you put on your deodorant, skipping the cologne as you remembered her preference.
>Best hope you didn't sweat all of that off on the drive over.

>The window, hell, the whole car practically rattled as you stepped out and slammed the door shut.
>You have no idea why your folks left you condemned to this lemon. You were certain you would get something more workable after graduation, but that whole thing fell through.
>The sun glares irritatingly in your eyes, once again reminding that summer is the worst season.
>Tugging at your jacket, and stashing your keys, you advance towards the sparkling double-wides you spied around the corner, but the doors slung open and a small crowd filed out,turning in your direction.
>There were those bikers that Sons of Anarchy taught you to be so afraid of.
>Worse yet, they were hyenas.
-Daughters of Ballbusting-
>not helping
>You remember from highschool that as a rule, they payed the most attention to the dweebs and shy guys. Hyenas liked to harass weak dudes, so just square your shoulders, walk on by, and try not to give off any smell of distress.
>Easy stuff
>The biggest and burliest of them leads the way, and skirts straight by you, not even sparing you a glance.
>Her cronies follow her lead.
>Guess you got worked up over nothing, better get worked up over what might actually go wrong.
>Sure, you knew eachother for a while before this, but this is your official first date. Would any of the same chemistry still be there?
>Did she actually like this place like she said? Or did she just call you out here because it's something she thought you would like?
>Whatever, it's showtime. You can't stand around gawking forever.
>A bell above the door gives a light jingle as you push through, taking in the mixture of aroma, light, and sound floating on the cool air from inside.
>The sunfaded exterior gave way to a squeaky clean tiled floor. Plush red bench seats bracketed chrome trimmed tables topped with a cream finish.
>The waved lines of cursive neon signs glow as hotspots of attention on the walls, surrounding them are all sorts of antique photos. Greaser jackets, hubcaps, and baseball mits are just a few examples of the americana memorabilia staining the walls with star spangled nostalgia.
>In the corner stands a bubble-domed jukebox, glowing vibrantly from neon accents and chrome. You were half expecting Fonzie to jive out of the bathroom door and give it a whack.
>So much was the visual dazzling of art deco and unapologetic nostalgia that you briefly forget to look for your date.
>Scanning over the crowd, you try to pick out which muzzle peeking over the seats is hers.
>Off under one of the sunniest tables is the narrow snout of a coyote, not her, but you do remark on the stellar patterns on her black shirt spelling out some joke. It doesn't land with you since whatever the reference it's serving flies over your head, but she seems to be enjoying herself as she talks to her human friend.
>You mentally filter out the longer, pointier noses as your eyes continue trailing along the line of windows in your search.
>You think you have her as you narrow in on a shorter, rounder face, but have to take a step back as you're met with the wrong color of fur.
>Some snow white tiger sits tapping her claws and staring nervously at her food, as the man across from her raises a nicked up brow.
>You find yourself wincing a little as the tiger's opposite looks like Nick Fury had a hot date with a cutting board, eyepatch included.
>The hell did that guy go through? His girlfriend doesn't look like she'd be capable of scratching him to hell like that, not with the way she's suffering from stage fright.
>Some of the types these retro places attract...
>Whatever, you gotta find your own kitty, keep lookin'.

>The clash of dense decorum on the walls is hard to sort through, but eventually you make contact with a pair of vivid green eyes that stare back.
>Her midnight black fur ruffles as she gives that patent smile.
>There she is.
>"Hiya."
>You return the shy little wave she gives, you almost didn't hear her.
>She always did have difficulties with being heard across the room.
>You slide into the compliant red pleather of the bench seat opposite her and breathe a bit of relief.
"Hey Karen."
>"How ya doing champ?"
>Why did she still call you that? It's not like you were the one that was solely responsible for winning the big game.
>You were just the goalie, and the goalie never gets any credit, even if you blocked more than a few shots.
>Course, you were also the big dumb fucktard that got held back two years so they wouldn't let you leave the goalbox. At least according to Kimba, the fucking prick.
>Whatever, all of that is behind you now, graduation was that fresh start you told yourself it was. That, and you probably look strange just staring off into space as soon as you sat down.
"...Just uh, had a lot on my mind recently."
>One of her thin brows creeps up a step. She obviously expected a more direct answer.
"But uh. I guess I'm good"
>"You guess?"
>Before you can stammer into some sort of deflection, the waitress appears over your table.
>"Well, don't you two look cute. What can I getch'ya?"
>One of Karen's ears flick at the mention of 'cute', but she grips her composure quickly.
>"Steak and hashbrowns for me."
>With a practiced hand, the woman scratches down the order as quickly as it escapes the cat's mouth. You can't help but notice your server is another hyena, with a peculiar blonde color to her mane.
>"Anythin' to drink?"
>"Just some water is fine."
>"And you?" The question snaps your wandering attention back to the present.
>Not wanting to look awkward, you quickly decide on something simple.
"Burger and fries, with a coke."
>"Aight then." With that, she wanders back over to the counter, and you're left with a bemused looking Karen beaming you with her eyes.
"What?"
>"You just seem distracted is all. Not thinking about anyone else, are you?"
"Wha? No!"
>Immediately her lips shift into a smirk as she gives a curt giggle, and the lump that just shot up your throat slowly glides back down.
>She was just screwing with you.
>"Relax dude, unwind a little. It's not like we don't know eachother."
"Yeah, but-"
>"But nothing! This is just our first 'real' date. You aren't meeting my parents."
>She's right, there could be worse things. From what she told you, her parents are real sticklers.
>Her dad was a curmudgeon of a tiger, and her mom? An all business panther. What came from their union was that spunky little hybrid you caught the hots for.
>Black fur, subtle grey stripes, and those rich green eyes, she looked a lot different from the other cats at school.
>School was back there though, not here, you should just relax.

>What was that trick again?
>You can't remember. So instead you just take a second and try to let your shoulders sag.
>"You usually weren't this wound up in class."
"Yeah, because I could care less about that."
>"No, you only cared about when the next game was so you could pout at the goalbox while the lions fumbled the ball and the tigers went all lone hero."
>Snarky as her point may be, she was right about the rest of the team. Kimba always fucked up on passes, and for as much boasting as Theo did on the regular, his lone blitzes across the field with the ball ricocheting between his fat feet rarely scored any goals.
>Mira had a good technique for kicking, but she was damn tiny and could barely get any real distance onto the ball.
>The rest of the team was a mundane mix of painfully average or lazy, but not once were you ever asked to step out of the box and take the field.
>No, you were always just the weird transfer student because of all the places your folks picked to stop their game of schizophrenic hopscotch through the states, it was here. Where your nearest high school level institution was used to educating nothing but feline anthros.
>To say you were the odd one out would be an understatement, there were some genuinely rare anthro species in those classes that looked less out of place than you did.
>"Earth to spaceman, hello?"
>The chirp of Karen's voice rips you out of your reminiscing.
>All you could return her was a transfixed stare as you mentally blanked on how to excuse yourself.
>"You immediately went back to thinking on soccer, didn't you?"
-just say something idiot-
"...Yeah."
>Her grin has faded as her lips purse in thought. You already know she's probably trying to suss out some root cause.
>You don't want to sour your date.
"Look, it's fine, I-"
>"-Don't feel accomplished?"
>Your chest thumps a bit as you find yourself mentally reeling. She hit the nail square on the head, and the way her green eyes beam intently at you means that she knows it too.
>So much for that nice, worry free date you promised yourself. Your frown grows as you think over how you were never given the real chance you wanted.
>You can't hide that nag in the back of your head anymore, and all the other little nags it drags along in its net, might as well spill.
"They never let me do anything but goalie. I wanted at least one good shot out on the field."
>"You know, we all talked to the coach, but it was out of his hands. A lot of the parents were skittish about letting a human out onto the field."
"Why? They worry over me getting cut? Everyone wore clawcaps out there."
>"No, they were just buying into that little bit of myth that humans would outlast everyone five times over."
-ayyy-
>"And before you say it! Not like THAT."
-awwww-
>She must have seen that little twitch the corner of your mouth made when your humor and libido briefly jumped into the driver's seat.
>It still reads as fantastically selfish of them, however.
"So they sabotage my chances at a pro-scholarship because they don't want their flawless kittens to get outplayed?"
>She offers a shrug.
>"It's bull, I know, but there was nothing to do. Besides, the school was too much of an armpit for any talent scouts to be prowling around, believe me."
>"It's not like you can't try at it when you get into college, you're a lot more likely to get recognized there."
>'Wait until college' A big consolation prize when you can't afford it and your folks are too cheap to pay your way for you.
>There was also the wave of political hysteria that seemed to seize every campus you looked at, that would pan out real well for your ambitions.
>Your mental eye-rolling stops as you pick out the waitress coming back to your table with your order.
>She wears a sly grin, like she knows something you don't.
>"Aight, steak and hash for the lady with a *thirst* quencher, and a classic for the gent."
>"Have fun you two."
>You're sure you hear a snicker as she walks away.

<Karen>
>She winked at you...
>Oh God... she knows.
>You had been sporadically eying him up, and you were probably putting out just enough of a hint on your scent that you were interested.
>Of course she would pick it up.
>Now you had to worry about 1) the waitress at your favorite joint knowing you're into humans, and 2) her potentially trying to pull something to embarrass you in front of him.
>...fuck
>At least the steak looks as appetizing as ever. Looking up, he's immediately paying prompt attention to his sandwiched slice of cow, giving you a clearing to at least scowl at her from across the room.
>She's propped herself up at the wall by the kitchen, wearing a shit-eating grin that's just creeping wider and wider.
>Dammit Alva! You had talked with her ahead of time, just to make sure that punk you knew wouldn't pull anything while you were here with him.
>You were careful not to start growling, but your frustration at her little tease demanded you at least find a way to voice your dissaproval, so you settled for mouthing at her in silence.
"I thought you'd be cool!"
>Her grin only grows as she starts snickering.
"Don't fuck this up for me!"
>She mouths something back.
>"Relax! Just talk to him." She nudges her muzzle in his direction to append her point.
>And here she was spoonfeeding your own advice back to you, all you can do is huff as the counter bell rings and Alva slinks back to her work.
>Hyenas just always have to make trouble... but maybe you should take your own advice.
>Not that winding down would be easy. The hell would everyone say if they found out you were interested in one of your former students?
>Sure, he had been held back a couple years, so he was closer to your age than anyone else in the building when he showed up in your senior class.
>The whole teacher thing was just a hold over job for a couple years while your mom found something for you, so of course a young, eager panthress/tigress would find herself interested in the exotic, more seasoned pick of her students that was just a few years under her.
>If you weren't his mentor for that one year, nothing could be viewed as wrong about your fling, just a couple of kids in their early twenties getting friendly. Only one to take issue with that would be those obnoxious species purists on /pol/.
>'humans are stealing our women!' pffft, like you belonged to anyone.
>Still... You couldn't deny that maybe something about the forbidden fruit angle was pulling you this way with little of the guilt.
>It WAS only one year, and he was already legal when you first set eyes on him. You also had those fantasies about pulling him into 'detention'...
-easy...-
>You should heed your mental warning, you can already feel the heat creeping towards your ears just thinking on it.
>It's not like that temptation was all there was to this. Both of you were rather friendly with eachother, and you could tell that he was thinking about you at least a little bit.
>Best just settle in and eat, the steak is juicy and bleeds just a touch, exactly the way you like it.
>As you fork a mouthful of the red meat you do have to glance at him as he chows down. Maybe something about the way he moves will give you more insight.
>His scent isn't carrying enough of a signal to clue you in.
>What you would give to have a canine nose, those girls were so good with scents, they could probably tell exactly what he was thinking.
>But what exactly was he thinking about?

<Anon???>
>Who the hell was cooking these burgers? They're startlingly good.
>Charred just enough on the outside, and tender on the inside. Karen was right about the stuff they serve here, absolutely a cut above fast food.
>There may even be something extra in the ground beef, an extra touch of ranch from the taste.
>Whoever the cook is, they really know their stuff.
>Karen idly digs into her steak, sparing an occasional glance your way. The way her ears occasionally swivel tells you she's deep in thought.
>You could think of something to say, but your baser needs call on you to at least wolf down the burger before chatting over the fries.
>That waitress is once again wearing a grin like she's clued in on an inside joke as she shuttles past your table.
>Maybe her and Karen know eachother?
>This was her favorite place, would only make sense if she was at least a familiar face to the staff.
>The thoughts click together as you take another bite, does that hyena think you and Karen are an item?
>Maybe that's why the cat seems more interested in the food than conversation.
>Sure, it was weird when the thought occurred to you that you were dating your old teacher, but the whole scenario was far from any of those stories on the news.
>The minutes roll past in relative silence until you're finally onto the fries, and you can spare any further protest from your hunger to strike up some sort of conversation.
>But what? You can't just blindside her with questions about the legitimacy of your relationship.
>Wait, you remember she said something about finding a new job after this last year teaching.
"Hey, uhm..."
>Her attention snaps towards you as she arches a brow. "Hmm?"
"How's that job thing coming along? You mentioned something about that a while ago."
>She pauses a long minute, before what she was mentally searching for snaps into her perception.
>"...Oh! Right. That. It's out of my hands right now. So... I'm just playing the waiting game."
>"Ya still got that old lemon parked outside, so I guess we're both in the wings. Huh?"
>She wasn't wrong, your complaints about that old banger that was your car were frequent and vocal.
>You swore up and down the first thing you would save up for would be ditching the old bucket for a machine that would start on a cold morning.
>Was hard to get payed when half of your applications vanished, half of the remainder never returned your calls, and of those that were left; most gave you the runaround before dropping off the face of the earth without so much as a 'fuck you'.
>Currently you were waiting on the gummed gears of bureaucracy to move for once so you could land that interview they promised.
"Yeah, just waiting on things too. Seems that's all I can do now, wait until I get lucky."
>She offers a short smile as she looks up at you from her shrinking steak.
>"You already did get lucky... with uh... -with me-."
>If only you were up all night for good fun instead of waiting for some stuffy midwest fatbody to let you in the door so you can take a paycheck.
>Wait...
>What was that last part?
"With what?"
>She freezes.
>"...nothing."
-That squeaking means she's up to something-
>You fight the urge to narrow your eyes at her and simply go about munching on the fries, delighting in the slight poof now present on what you can see of her tail.

>It's something that persists as she cleans up her steak and goes to tepidly munching on the side dish.
>You eye the fine sheen of her fur as it slowly smooths itself down. The pendulous sway of nerves hanging over your little outing seemed to rest in her direction for now.
>Soon enough your hand is grasping at straws and she's cleaned her plate. The whole thing moves that much quicker when you're awkwardly glancing at eachother instead of speaking.
>Guess you're waiting on the check in another sense now.
>...
>This is starting to slide the same way as your crush in middle school. It's bad form to just sit in silence.
>Least she isn't on her phone.
>But what to talk about? You have to reel her into some sort of conversation, think!
>What would smooth her nerves over? And more importantly, not get yours on end in the process?
>Wait, the big show and tell happened not that long ago, and everyone made a habit of ripping on the snake oil salesmen at least once.
"You watch E3?"
>Her ears perk up, you've sparked her interest.
>"What, and waste my time with *another* battle royale?"
"It is a trend lately."
>"Trend undersells it. Every developer and their mothers are throwing together some kitbash to cash in. A few years from now the industry will just move onto the next fad."
>Energy flows into her as she capably winds herself up. Just like she used to.
>"And what's up with all of these obviously staged 'gameplay' demos, and... You know just how to get me talking."
>That proof that you still know her brings a grin to you as she flicks an ear in a little bout of astonishment.
>You're about to say something, when a familiar presence looms over the table.
>You would never really call the waitress large, but anyone looks huge when they're standing so closely over your table.
>You definitely hear a slight snickering under her breath. She knows Karen for sure, and she must be having a laugh watching her friend's attempts at courting you.
>...Or your fumbling attempts at talking Karen into opening up more.
>"All done?" Her eyes flick between you and Karen as her lips spread into a knowing smirk.
>The hairs on Karen's tail are only rising higher.
>"erm.. yeah... Sans the drinks." The cat's voice is only raising octaves, and the hyena turns her muzzle towards Karen with what you can only imagine as a very amused look.
>"Are ya now?"
>You never thought you'd live to see a big cat lock up out of embarrassment, because Karen was shrinking into her seat in record time.
>"Mhm..."
>The hyena leans in, and you can't help but take notice that her tail is that blonde color too, but you quickly snap your attention back to the show.
>"He's cute ya know. I might just take 'em if you don't fess up."
>Karen's response almost sounds like a growl.
>"Alvaaa-."
>Immediately the hyena's lips part into a toothy grin as she breathes a wheezing laugh. Karen seems to, slightly, decompress before a paw lands on her back.
>"Come on!- Break yourself up a little Kare, you'll have plenty to talk about later. Anyway, here's your bill, than you two can uh. Get out of here~ Heheheheh."
>Much as Karen looks stuck between admonishing her friend or melding into the furniture; Alva seems content with her joking and just looks between the two of you with a patient smile.
"Should we spl-"
>"-No, no. I'll pay for us... uh, my treat."
>Alva's grin grows more and more.
>Karen alternates between signing the check and glaring at Alva, and soon enough the hyena shuffles off and you're on your way out the door.

>The summer breeze hits your face with a wall of warm air as you step outside, and once again the ever present sun seeks entry into your eyes.
>You're growing to hate that damn thing. This summer seems like it's only getting hotter as it closes.
>Karen strolls up next to you, Looking a little anxious.
>"I guess I'll see you around then? Ehm, maybe next week for dinner?"
"Sure."
>That went better than expected, and she strolls off opposite of you to wherever she must have parked.
>Time to go crawl back into the lemon.
>The jaunt around the corner is short, and of course your hotbox of a car was left in the sun that whole time, so you're likely going to be baking in your sweat the whole way home.
>The door sticks a little before grudgingly letting you into the rotting interior.
>The leather is split and sweaty, the plastic dashboard is cracked and faded, and the radio works perfectly some days while hissing nothing but static other days.
>The battered old seat whines as you settle into it and slam the door shut, worrying a little as you hear the window rattle in its frame.
>You would be amazed if this old bucket managed to hold itself together for another month.
>Your keys go in with a click, the ignition turns, and the engine starts trying to turn itself over from its bygone slumber.
>It turns, turns, and turns... but not a single cough to bring it to life.
>This anemic, wheezing thing has to have something left in it, your battery wasn't flat this morning.
>You try again, and give it a little gas, and although the banger under the hood whines and clicks, it just refuses to turn over.
>Come on, it's gotta give something!
>You try again, pumping the gas to try and force some life into it.
>The clicks turn into little sputters.
>The whining turns of the engine are going a little faster.
>You can almost hear it ready to go.
>Now!
>...
>Okay, now!
>...
>Now?
>...
>The turning ceases, and now your frantic jamming of the ignition forward isn't producing so much as a whisper.
-it's dead, Jim-
>It finally happened. You always wanted the old can of rust to just give up and die so your folks had no excuses to avoid getting you something that works.
>Yet you always pictured this happening in the comfort of your own driveway, not across town.
>Your head makes impact with the top of the wheel.
"Fuck."
>Walking home in this weather...
>You're going to die of heatstroke because your libido prompted you to sneak out here.
>What a day

<Karen>
>You were about to start for home when you heard the feathering squeal of a dying engine across the parking lot.
>His car always had trouble, but this time it seemed like it finally had enough.
>Peering around the corner, he had his head against the wheel in defeat.
-you can't just leave him like that-
>Certainly not, and it might just be an opportunity. You feel like you're being judged again as you consider that possibility.
>That possibility that you may finally score... er... well, at least worm a little closer to something like that.
>Would it be best? To invite him back to your home? You could just drive him back to his place if he said no, so it wouldn't be a wasted effort.
>Or would he think it was odd or stalkerish if you just showed back up to offer him a lift?
>ohhhh... Why does this odd little fling of yours have to raise so many questions?
>Deep breaths girl, you've been waiting for something like this, stop staring and just go.
>You know what mother said about not taking opportunities.
>Even Da'mar told you to just suck it up and go for it.
>Here goes nothing.

<[Data not found]>
>A light tapping at the window roused you from your defeated stupor.
>Peeling your forehead off the wheel met you with a pair of nervous green eyes and a shy smile.
>"Hey dude! uhh. Want me to take you home?"
>You could only offer a nod and an exacerbated groan, you just want the nearest place where there's AC and a couch.
>At least she seemed happy.

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