Nothing's Too Good For My Boy

Ms. Hensley kept Sandra after class. No practice that afternoon, so the girl figured she could spare a minute. Turns out the talk was about Sandra’s slipping grades and all the time she spent flipping around on the field. Ms. Hensley had the perfect fix: her college-aged boy Isaac, already seasoned at tutoring other girls, could fit Sandra into his schedule right after tomorrow’s practice. Later she rang him up. “Found another one.” Next day he showed—smooth haircut, cocky half-smile, eyes that lingered on Sandra just a beat too long. Ms. Hensley fawned all over him, calling him her “very particular” genius, while he sized Sandra up like she was next on the menu. He asked to see her pencil grip. She obliged. A second later his fingers slid over her wrist, “fixing” the angle, pressing warmth into her skin. Then his hand skated up her spine to straighten her back, down her calves to “improve circulation.” Each touch felt thicker, bolder. Sandra stayed frozen, unsure but obedient. Isaac smirked at his mother. “She follows directions.” Sandra finally asked what the hell was happening. Ms. Hensley laid it out flat: pleasing Isaac meant passing grades and keeping her pom-poms. No need to quit the squad, simple trade. Sandra swallowed hard—she was still a virgin—but Isaac’s grin only widened. Ms. Hensley cooed that he loved first-timers best.