She felt this was the day she might get Mr. Holiday to bend her way. She shivered at the thought of his rugged handsomeness, and the way he looked so much like Robert Redford. It puzzled her that all the other teachers wanted to look at her, wanted to play with her, but Mr. Holiday wouldn't give her a turn.

He seemed so intent upon his teaching, so upright, so strong, so moral. Oh, God, how she wanted to kiss him. To have him hold her would be totally insane. Totally awesome.

It's not unusual for a schoolgirl to have a crush on her teacher, and certainly all the girls at Jefferson desired Mr. Holiday, but Suzy's desire was not so much infatuation as fantasy of having the older man love her, adore her, and take care of her.

Suzy had never had a father. Her mother had become pregnant and refused to marry, so Suzy came into the world fatherless.

Perhaps he was a father-image to her, but beyond that she was taken by his handsome good looks, his All-American physique, and actually everything about him.

She knew she was the most beautiful girl in school; she knew also that she had developed very well for a teenager, and had all the assets of a young woman, especially her ripe, young tits, and her well-curved ass.

She sat in his class later that morning trying to gain his attention. Mr. Holiday lectured about Stephen Crane's short stories.

"His tender, touching story of Maggie, Girl of the Streets, is about a young waif caught in the New York slums who had a battering mother, a drunken father; a victim of fear, environment and social values of the lower class."

Mr. Holiday leaned against his desk. He wore a brown tweed jacket, a blue buttoned-down shirt, tight jeans, and a pair of brown loafers. His tie was loose.

Suzy shifted in her little desk, and let her skirt ride high on her smooth, tanned thighs, hoping the teacher would see how delicious she could look.