Lofa, Gafa, 's Traochta Tnáite

Every action has its equal and opposite reaction–a ball exerts downward force, the ground exerts upwards force and the ball bounces; your foot pushes on the ground, the ground pushes back and you walk; she kisses you, you kiss her and…then what?

It’s been the same thing for years.

They kiss you, you kiss them.

They take off your clothes, you take off theirs.

They finish…you don’t, and you go home and finish yourself off with your vibrator and a glass of wine.

So, when Larissa asks you out after years of working with each other and almost a whole school year of flirting and yearning looks, you’re almost dreading it–because you know it’ll end the same way. You’ll get three months into the relationship, you’ll be laying in bed, the mood will feel right at first, and then you’ll end up making them finish and you’ll receive what you can’t even call aftercare.

Man or woman, it didn’t matter–the result was always the same.

But somehow, you convince yourself that Larissa will be different. And you pray that your gut is telling the truth. 

You’ve been on plenty of dates in your life, but your first date with Larissa was possibly the best one you’ve been on. You’ve always loved the fair and going with Larissa made it even better. 

A gasp from Larissa startled you and you turned your head to find her staring at one of the ring toss booths. “What is it?” you ask.

“That stuffed bear,” she says, pointing up at the corner of the booth where a stuffed brown bear hangs from a hook by the ribbon on its neck. “I had one just like it when I was a girl. I lost it one day and I was distraught–I have no idea where it went.”

You look from her to the bear and back to her. “Do you want me to get it for you?”

She looks at you, eyebrow raised. “You want to try and win me the stuffed bear?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “Isn’t that what fair dates are all about?”

At the mention of it being a date, a light rose dusts Larissa’s cheeks and you can see her trying not to smile. “Fine–But no cheating with telekinesis!” she says pointedly.

You gasp in mock offense, hand clutching your chest. “How dare you suggest that, Principal Weems! I would never!”

You walk up to the booth attendant with a smug grin and hand him a twenty dollar bill in exchange for ten rings. Your heart races as you feel Larissa’s eyes on you and you lean forward, tossing the ring forward. It misses the bottle neck by a hair’s width and you huff before tossing another one and another one.

“Why am I so bad at this?” you whine as Larissa giggles, hand covering her mouth.

You get the fourth try and the fifth, then the sixth, but the rest you miss. You purse your lips as the attendant hands you a tiny dog plush that you’d find in a fast food kids meal. You hand it to Larissa and sigh, “Hold this.”

She watches as you hand the man another twenty and toss more rings–and miss more bottles. You’re handed another tiny plush and you hand him another twenty.

“Darling,” she says, pocketing the second tiny plush, “you don’t have to keep–”

“No, I want to,” you say, and throw the first ring. “You’re getting that bear, Larissa–I don’t care how much it costs me.”

Larissa sighs, smiling softly as she rolls her eyes and lets you continue.

This time around, you get five bottles and hand her a plush that’s a bit bigger–but it’s not good enough for you. So, you hand him another twenty and as you throw the first ring, you give into your urge.

The first ring falls perfectly around the neck of the bottle.

Then the second.

Then the third.

The fourth.

The fifth.

The attendant isn’t paying attention as he helps a group of students on the opposite end of the booth.

But Larissa is paying attention. She eyes you suspiciously and when you throw the eighth perfect ring, she leans down, lips by your ear. “What do you think you’re doing?”

A chill runs through you and you shrug, aiming the ninth ring at the next bottle. “Practice makes perfect. I have no idea what you’re insinuating.”

With an amused smile, Larissa stands up straight, watching you make the last two bottles. The attendant–confused, but not getting paid enough to care–rings a loud bell and hands you the bear.

“Y’know, you could’ve just bought it for thirty bucks,” he shrugs, and you glare at him.

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” you say, face deadpan.

You turn to face Larissa, reserving your smile for her alone as you hold out the stuffed bear. She takes it gratefully and thanks you, leaving a kiss on your cheeks and you can feel the heat rush into your face. 

“Oh, I got lipstick on your cheek,” she says, and swipes her thumb over the mark before grinning. “Your face is very warm.”

You clear your throat, trying not to smile under her smug look as you mutter, “Shut up.”

The night progresses and Larissa never once lets go of the stuffed bear. You walk around the fair with conversations being broken by students saying hi and orders at the concession stands.

Now, you walk side-by-side with snow cones and blue tongues. 

“You know, I’m not usually one for carnival rides,” Larissa begins, “but would you want to join me on the Ferris wheel to watch the fireworks?”

“The Ferris wheel?” you repeat. “That’s a bit cliche, don’t you think? But yes, I’d love to join you on the Ferris wheel.”

You have no idea how you ended up here–on the Ferris wheel, in the arms of your boss as she clutches the bear you won for her at a game of ring toss. 

“Thank you for tonight, by the way,” Larissa says quietly. “I haven’t had this much at the fair since I was a student here–and nobody’s ever spent almost a hundred dollars trying to win a silly stuffed animal for me.”

“Of course,” you smile, and you feel a chill run through you as her finger tips trail over your arm. “I felt it was my duty to make sure you got your bear back.” 

The gondola you’re in stops at the top of the wheel–how convenient. The view of Nevermore lit up in the night, the colorful fair lights, the fireworks starting in less than two minutes.

“My knight in shining armor,” Larissa muses. There's a moment of silence as you watch the fair below–students running around with their friends, the screams of laughter on rides, the dings of bells on games. Larissa turns her head to look at you, quietly admiring how the lights hit your complexion. 

Her voice is quiet, and she hopes it doesn’t shake with the anxiety she has. “Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes widen and you smile as you look at her. “You’re very straightforward, Principal Weems.”

“I don’t think there’s any point in beating around the bush,” she says. “Now, can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you giggle. “You can kiss me.”

Every action has its equal and opposite reaction–you strike a match, the friction creates a spark and a flame; you put a flame to a fuse and the fuse lights; a firework bursts and sends stars in every direction; she kisses you, you kiss her.

You want so badly to bask in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, but every time you’re in either of your little staff cottages, you feel your stomach churn. You know you’re attracted to her–God, it’s pathetic how much you are. You touch yourself to the thought of her, the things you want her to do to you, but even two months in, all you can bring yourself to do is kiss her.

Larissa’s lips are soft against yours–the softest thing you could touch. You relish in the kisses you exchange, whether they’re stolen kisses at school or kisses shared when making dinner together, but they slowly become more heated.

More passionate.

Lasting longer.

And three months in, you’re retreating.

This isn’t the first time you’ve done it. You’ve flat out broken up with someone because of how scared you were to be intimate with her. You’re quiet and reserved now, making excuses as to why you can’t go over to Larissa’s for dinner, or why you can’t join her for a glass of wine in her office after school.

And she notices.

Larissa isn’t stupid. She’s worked with you for three years and not once have you needed a substitute or canceled plans you made with her.

Until now.

You slowly start to come back one week and she observes you carefully–you’re still quiet, like your mind is preoccupied. But then you retreat back into yourself again and she can’t help but convince herself it’s something she’s done.

Larissa doesn’t confront you, though. Instead, she asks you to come over tonight–for the first time in almost a week—and she’s relieved when you say yes.

She’s pulling you through the doorway of her house at 5pm, both of you smiling as she presses a kiss to your lips. You make dinner together, catch up on episodes of the show you’re watching, and you let her hold you as the living room slowly darkens from the December night.

“I’m gonna take our dishes to the kitchen,” you mumble, standing up as the show credits begin.

The sink water scalds your hands as you wash the dishes from dinner, but you don’t change the temperature. You’re quiet as the stream of thoughts in your head turns into a raging river, and then you’re startled, pulled out of your head by a pair of arms wrapping around you from behind.

“You shouldn’t be doing the dishes,” Larissa mutters, kissing your temple.

You brush off her words. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

Her lips remain close to your ear and you feel that tug in your abdomen, but you continue washing the dishes as Larissa watches you.

“You’ve been washing the same fork for two minutes,” she mumbles, and you can hear the teasing lilt in her voice as you set the fork in the drying rack. Her hands splay over your belly, running over your hips and squeezing as her lips start making their way down. 

You want to continue, but everything inside of you screams to stop. When Larissa’s lips reach your neck and her fingers brush under your shirt, you’re quick to turn the water off and remove her hands from you. 

“No!” You turn around, face hot with embarrassment as you tense and move out of her grasp. “I’m sorry,” you say quickly, avoiding her eyes. Your voice quiets and you sigh, “I’m sorry.

“It’s okay,” she reassures you gently. “Is it something I said, or did?”

“No, it’s not you,” you say. “I just don’t want–Well, I do want to–I really want to–” You feel your throat tighten as you struggle to gather your thoughts. “But I’m–scared–I think…I’m sorry.”

Larissa’s face softens and she nods lightly. “Okay…It’s alright.” She steps forward carefully. “Can I ask why you’re scared?”

You chew the skin on your lip, heat rising in your face. “I’ve never had–um–”

“Sex?” she says for you.

“No, I have,” you say. “Just not with…someone who cared. Sex has never been…fun or…pleasurable for me.” You feel shame boil in your chest, like it’s your fault somehow, and your voice reflects it. “At first I thought it was just the guys I was seeing, but then the women didn’t care enough either, so…I’ve just kind of been avoiding it altogether.”

“I see,” she says quietly. 

“I want to have sex,” you say, hands running over her forearms. “I do, really. I just don’t know when.”

“You don’t have to know when,” Larissa says, eyes warm and face soft. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she nods, and pulls you into her embrace. “We can wait as long as you want.”

Winter break comes and goes and with it, your anxiety and fear of letting Larissa down. 

“Thank you for being understanding,” you mutter one night, laying in bed with her. 

She kisses you softly, hand squeezing your hip. “I would never ever want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“I know,” you mumble, kissing her again. “Thank you. Most relationships got three months in and I thought I was ready, but…Needless to say, the only thing that’s made me finish is my vibrator.”

The good thing about Nevermore having on-campus housing is that technically snow days don’t affect classes.

The good thing about having Larissa Weems as principal is that she knows that’s not what snow days are about. So, the day before the Vermont sky dumps almost a foot of snow on the ground mid-February, you manage to convince her to cancel classes.

You’re walking toward her office in the middle of your planning period when the intercom crackles to life overhead.

“Good afternoon, Nevermore students and staff,” Larissa says. “Due to the forecasted snow, administration has made the decision to close campus tomorrow. Grounds crew will be on campus today and tomorrow to assist in winter weather safety, and the dining hall will remain open for all students and staff. Should you have any questions or concerns, an email will be sent out shortly with more information. Thank you for your understanding, and enjoy your snow day.”

From a distance you can hear cheers from classrooms, and when you enter Larissa’s office, you’re smiling brightly. “Glad to hear you took my suggestion.”

Larissa scoffs and smiles as you rest on the edge of her desk. “Begging is more like it.”

“I was thinking,” you say, “maybe we could get snowed in together–you can stay the night, we’ll wake up tomorrow, you’ll be stuck with me, we can make cookies, have hot chocolate, watch a rom-com.”

Larissa looks up at you from her laptop, smiling. “I would love nothing more, my darling.”

A little under a foot of snow lays on the ground outside. Bright light seeps through the windows of your cottage as you lay on the couch with Larissa, and the movie playing on the TV is forgotten through the soft kisses you exchange. 

A knock on your front door pulls you from your warm, domestic bubble, and you reluctantly leave Larissa to open it. In front of you stands three students, all bundled in snow clothes with bright faces red from the cold.

“Is this a question about the homework due on Friday?” you ask, and they giggle.

“No!” one of them laughs. “We’re going around to all the staff cottages to get a teachers versus students snowball fight! We’ve got Coach Vlad, the English department, the Math department, all of the History teachers–we might try to get Principal Weems too!”

You glance behind you at the living room where Larissa sits on the couch, bundled in blankets. “Principal Weems,” you say, clearing your throat, and she turns to face you, surprised to see the faces of three students. “Would you care to join us for a teachers versus students snowball fight?”

Larissa looks at the four of you and realizes that saying no isn’t an option, so, instead of fighting a losing battle, she sighs and agrees. You close the door as the kids run away to the next staff cottage and retreat back to the couch. 

“I cannot believe you roped me into this,” Larissa mumbles from her blankets, and lets you plant a soft kiss on her lips.

An hour later, the two of you are emerging in suitable clothes for the current weather and Larissa's face is already growing red among her bundle of scarves around her neck. There's at least fifty students on the green and faculty members are slowly joining in. Students prepare their piles of snowballs and patches of snow dusted grass pop up here and there as other students build forts to protect themselves and their teammates. When the teachers and staff realize how serious the students are about this, they begin doing the exact same thing. Forts are built quickly and you help Larissa pack snowballs. The second the first snowball is thrown, it's anarchy.

Snowballs are running out quickly and soon, you're making snowballs as you go. The students are ruthless, sparing mercy for nobody. Your pants have damp patches from snow and your face feels frozen, but you continue on—until you feel someone pull the back of you coat and shove snow down your back.

You shriek, and when you turn around, Larissa is laughing. And as if the universe is on your side, she's immediately hit in the face with a snowball. You burst out laughing as the students who did it quickly retreat, and you take pity on her, helping her wipe the snow off of her face. You pout and it's hard to hold back your laughter. "Are you okay, honey?"

Larissa huffs but there's no hiding her amusement. "Do you think I'd be able to give them detention for that?"

"Absolutely not," you say. "I'm not allowing it." Back in the house, you kick snow from your boots and leave your coats to dry. Despite the heat being on, you're shivering, and it's like Larissa reads your mind. “Why don’t I go start you a hot shower so you don’t succumb to hypothermia?” she muses, pressing a kiss to the side of your head before retreating to the en suite bathroom in your bedroom.

"If I succumb to hypothermia, it'll be your fault!" You rifle through your dresser for a pair of pajamas and follow Larissa into the bathroom where she’s carefully resting your towels on the towel warmer. You set your pajamas down on the counter and stand behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“You know,” you say, kissing her shoulder, “if you want to, I wouldn’t mind if you joined me in the shower…”

Larissa’s head turns before her body completely faces you. “Are you sure?” she asks softly, hands running over your shoulders to hold your face.

You nod. “Yeah…I mean, isn’t it more environmentally conscientious to shower together?”

A laugh escapes her, “You’re right. In order to conserve water–”

“–And heat,” you interject. 

“And heat,” she adds with a grin. “I completely agree that we should shower together.”

You pull her down for a kiss and your smiles slowly fade as an uncontrollable fire takes over. Larissa’s hands slip beneath your shirt and the anxiety you’ve been plagued with for years still settles in your belly, but you force it down and push through–because, God, you want this woman more than you can put into words. 

“Is it alright if I take this off?” she asks quietly, lips brushing yours.

You nod, “Yes,” and your hands raise as she pulls your shirt over your head.

Both of you struggle to separate, but eventually, you’re slowly being walked backwards and into the shower. When the hot water hits your back, you gasp, but it turns into a quiet moan when Larissa’s tongue slips into your mouth.

You brace your hand on the tiled wall as water runs over you both. “Wait,” you say, out of breath. “Wait, we were gonna shower to–”

“Save water,” she finishes for you, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You’re right.”

You ache between your legs but somehow you manage to properly shower through giggles and kisses and awkward heights. The bathroom is filled with steam when you get out, and you’re barely able to get your towels on before your lips are together again. 

You can’t tell which one of you is more frantic, but your hands grab and pull at each other so much that your towels are slipping down. 

“Bed?” Larissa huffs in between kisses.

You nod quickly, pulling her with you toward the bed, and right as you’re about to pull her down with you, she breaks away.

Larissa’s eyes are dark as her hands hold your face steady. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Yes.”

Your response is breathless but confident, and she searches your face for any doubt. “Alright,” she mutters. “If you want to stop at any point, say so, and we will. You could never disappoint me.”

You nod lightly and your voice is barely a whisper, “Okay.” Her lips are on yours again, but you pull away. “Wait, can we go slowly?”

Larissa carefully tips you back on the bed and you can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face. “We can go as slowly as you want,” she mutters, and kisses you softly as she situates herself between your legs.

Your fingers tangle in her wet hair, smiling as she pecks your lips. “Thank you.”

“The slower we go…” Larissa’s hands begin undoing your towel as she leans in close. “The longer I get to keep you like this.”

She leans down, pressing kiss after kiss to your chest. “Absolutely beautiful,” she mutters against your skin, eyes dark as she looks up at you.

Larissa kisses back up your chest and over your neck, and as she kisses your lips, her hand runs over your abdomen and kneads at your hip. “What do you want first?” she asks, and a chill runs through you.

You feel your face warm and you don’t know how to respond. “I–Um…”

“Do you want me to decide for you?” she asks quietly, and you nod. 

Larissa plants a kiss on your lips and works her way down your body, letting her towel slip off her figure. Her hands are soft as she spreads your legs further and kisses the warm skin on your thigh. “Relax, breathe…good…”

Her tongue slowly runs through your folds and your breath catches, fingers grabbing at the edge of your pillow. She doesn’t quicken her pace, instead taking her time and savoring your taste and the quiet sounds she pulls from you.

You don’t know how long it’s been, but you become impatient at how slow she’s going. Your toes curl and your back arches as you try to get more, but she stops and pulls away.

“If you want something, you need to ask,” Larissa says, hands running over your thighs and hips.

You let out a huff that turns into a moan as the tip of her tongue swirls over your clit. “Fuck–More, Larissa. I want more, please.”

“Good girl.” 

Your head falls back into the pillows at the feeling of her fingers slipping inside of you. But they don't move any further than the opening. They sit there as her tongue and lips work on your clit, and the tips every slightly curl as they gently message the flesh. The feeling has you gasping as your own fingers grasp her damp hair tightly. Your legs shake and you cry out, begging her to keep going.

It hits you harder than you thought it would. Your legs clamp around Larissa's head as your orgasm takes over and you cry. Your chest heaves as you go limp, and with her fingers still inside of you, Larissa crawls up and kisses you softly. Her fingers move slowly, deeper inside of you now as her tongue brushes yours.

The sensitivity from your previous orgasm subsides quickly after Larissa's thumb makes contact with your clit. Your fingers tie into her hair as her mouth moves to your neck, sucking and biting at the flesh as her fingers begin to pick up in pace. Your hips grind against her hand desperately and her lips trail back up your neck and cheek to capture your own.

"That's it," she mutters, and her free hand grips your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. "Keep going, baby. You're doing so well for me." She watches you closely as tears form in your eyes. "I can feel you getting close. Are you gonna cum for me again?"

Pressure in your abdomen builds and builds and you struggle to respond, but you manage to nod, and your voice strains, "Yes!" Larissa's lips are on yours as your legs begin tensing around her hips. You can feel it coming, feel it hurdling towards you and you break the kiss with a cry that borders on a scream. As you writhe and scramble for purchase wherever you can reach, your eyes open wide with a gasp when you feel yourself gush around her hand. You look up at her with wide eyes and it's hard to gauge her reaction. "I'm sorry! I've never done that before—"

Larissa kisses you hard. "Don't you dare apologize. That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Seeing Larissa Weems, who is usually so dignified and mannered, like this could send you into orbit. The messy hair, the way her cheeks are flushed, the dark look of desire in her eyes—it drives you crazy.

She holds you close as she places sweet kisses on your lips, and you laugh softly. "It's a good thing we had towels."

Larissa laughs and kisses you again as you slowly shift her onto her back. "And what do you think you're doing?" she asks with an amused look.

"Making sure you know how appreciated you are for being the only person to ever make me cum," you say, and a soft gasp escapes her when your lips attach to her neck.

Larissa's back arches off the bed when your mouth reaches her breasts. "Good girl," she mumbles, and her hand smooths over your hair as you suck and bite at her nipples. As you work your way down, goosebumps form beneath your touch and her fingers tighten in your hair. When your tongue licks through her folds, she gasps, and when your lips wrap around her clit and suck, the gasp melts into a moan that you'd kill to hear again and again.

The praise she gives you as you lap and suck at her clit is almost enough to make you finish for a third time hands-free. Larissa looks down at you, pupils blown wide with lust. "You look so fucking good between my legs," she breathes, and her back arches when you grin and suck hard. "Fingers—I need—your fingers. The way I—!" You slip your fingers inside of her the same way she did for you and she gasps loudly. "Just like that! Fuck! Good girl—keep going!"

Larissa cumming in your mouth is reward enough. To see her so inhibitionless, to hear her moans, to feel the soft skin of her thighs, to taste her, to smell her—you're addicted already.

As she catches her breath, you crawl back up, leaving small kisses up her torso and breasts and neck. She kisses you hard and you shiver at the feeling of her nails digging into the back of your neck. Gently, she guides you back onto your side where you resume the exchanging of soft kisses with your legs entwined and your hands roaming.

When you pull away, you can see every line, every wrinkle, and every scar on her face. "You're so pretty," you mutter with a sleepy smile.

Larissa kisses you again. The look in her eyes when she breaks the kiss is soft. Her hand grazes your cheek before brushing stray hairs out of your face with a smile. "Thank you for trusting me."

You take her hand in yours and press kisses over every inch of it. "And thank you for giving me two amazing orgasms back-to-back. And if I'm being honest, I almost had a third one when eating you out." You smile as she laughs, linking your hand with hers as you pull her in for a kiss. "But seriously, thank you for being patient. Nobody's ever made me feel wanted like that."

Larissa can feel her own heart break, but she smiles softly as she kisses you and maneuvers you onto your back. "Well, when you love someone, you wait for them."

Her words make your chest flutter. "You love me?"

"I love you—madly," she says, lips soft against yours. "You're worth waiting for, and I want you in any way you'll give yourself to me. Now…" Her hand slowly trails down your torso. "You mentioned almost having a third orgasm before I so rudely interrupted you with my own." Her fingers run through your folds and she grins as your eyes flutter and your hands grasp at her shoulders. "And the last thing I want to do is leave the woman I love unsatisfied after being such a good girl for me."

Your classroom is quiet as your students complete their physics test. One by one, they finish and place the paper on your desk, and eventually, the class breaks into quiet chitchat during their free time.

As you grade the previous period's tests, you feel eyes on you. Students smile as they glance at you suspiciously and you narrow your eyes at them. "What is it?"

Immediately, in the center of the classroom, one of your students blurts out with a bright smile, "Are you and Principal Weems dating?"

Amused, you roll your eyes and set your pen down with a sigh. "Yes."

The class breaks out into chaos.

"I knew it!"

"I told you so! Principal Weems was literally at her house!"

"Tristan, you owe me ten bucks!"

One of them does what you can only describe as a happy dance in her seat. "How long have you been together?"

"Since the Harvest Festival," you say, and that sets off another wave of chaos.

"I knew it! I knew it!"

"You thought I was seeing shit when I told you that I saw Principal Weems kiss her on the cheek!"

"Do you love her?" one of your students asks with a hopeful smile.