Sweetest Taboo (7 page)

“We should stay away from the windows,” he whispered into my hair, “but we can do what we want in here. No one can see us standing here.”

The comfortable embrace lingered for what seemed to be minutes. Mr. Stevens’ hands explored my body, first tracing the planes of my back and arms, then focusing on my waist, taking the time to feel under my fitted black cotton tank top. I held tightly to his body, running my hands up and down his back and enjoying the warm feel of the fabric of his polo shirt. I didn’t know if his body tingled as intensely as mine, but I could feel his heart pounding against my chest and knew he could likely feel mine as well. We stood there, locked in a tender embrace, for an eternity it seemed. I didn’t want it to end.

“Isabel,” Mr. Stevens whispered in my ear. “I never thought we would get to this point.”

I felt his grip loosen just enough to create a slender gap between our two bodies. He pulled back slightly and his cheek brushed up against mine, I could feel the five o’clock shadow on his face. We moved toward each other and I shifted my face slightly, finding his lips with my own. I had kissed boys before and knew how it was supposed to feel, but was shocked at the lightning that struck when our lips met for the very first time.

Our lips met time and time again, first slowly and gently, and then more urgently and passionately. Our hands explored the uncharted territory of each other’s bodies, and our movements grew frenzied. Mr. Stevens placed one of his hands soothingly on the nape of my neck and guided me as he kissed me more deeply. I had no idea how much time had passed before we finally pulled apart, both breathless and flushed. Mr. Stevens let out a soft chuckle and stroked my hair.

“Now, I’m sure you’ve had some practice at this,” he said, “because you’re such a good kisser.”

“I’ve had some practice,” I replied with a sly smile, “but it’s never been as good as this.”

He smiled, one of those big smiles that exposed his white teeth and made his bright hazel eyes sparkle with delight.

“You know, if I didn’t already know you had braces, I would’ve never known you wear them from the way you kiss,” he told me.

I’d worn braces for the past twelve months, and had learned to be very careful while kissing, to make sure that my braces never got in the way. I couldn’t resist asking, though. “Haven’t you ever kissed a girl with braces before?”

An incredulous and hurt look clouded his face. “Isabel, do you think I’m in the habit of kissing schoolgirls? Do you think that’s why you’re here?”

The tone of his voice was defensive, but there was something else behind his question. I realized he didn’t want me to think he was messing around with me. He didn’t want me to think that what we were engaging in was something flippant or commonplace.

“That’s not what I meant,” I answered quickly, trying to reassure him. “I was just curious, that’s all. What am I supposed to think? You’re here kissing me, so why would it be so crazy for me to think that maybe you’ve kissed a schoolgirl or two before this?”

Mr. Stevens abruptly loosened his grip on me and stepped back.

“Isabel, I need you to understand that I’ve never done anything like this before,” he said, looking straight into my eyes, his tone serious. “In answer to your question, yes, I’ve kissed someone with braces before … when I was sixteen. And no, I don’t go around kissing schoolgirls. I’ve been a teacher for over ten years and this has never happened before, and–”

I put a hand up to his lips, stopping him. “That’s not what I think,” I said softly. “I wouldn’t be here if I thought you were like that. I was attracted to you from the first day we met, and I didn’t even know you were married then. I was just curious if you had ever been with someone else as young as me, that’s all. I didn’t mean to imply that this is what you do for kicks.”

Mr. Stevens relaxed a little; I could see it in his body language. He placed his right hand on my left cheek, and then leaned forward and embraced me again, as carefully as if he were dealing with a priceless porcelain doll.

“You understand what I’m risking here, don’t you?” he murmured in my ear. “This choice I’ve made to give in, to hold you, to kiss you…” he pulled back and looked into my eyes. “I’m risking my career, I’m risking my family. I’m risking everything. I could go to jail if I were to get caught, do you know that? I would never do something like this if I didn’t sincerely care about you, Isabel. You’re not a game to me.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words. This had never been anything more to me than a crush, and some kind of conquest. I wanted to break some rules and see how far I could go with Mr. Stevens, how far I could get him to go. But there were serious repercussions on his end, and it wasn’t just a game. Now that I was in his arms, I knew that it was more than a game for me as well; I had developed stronger feelings for him than I realized. It was as if that embrace and that lingering and passionate kiss awakened a love I hadn’t felt before, and overwhelming emotion that was new and unexpected. The thought of him going to jail put me into a cold sweat and it was clear that I cared a great deal about this man who was putting his life at risk for me. All of a sudden, I realized that this was an immense responsibility for me, to engage physically with him like this, and to care for the faith he so willingly had in me.

“I know, I really do,” I replied. “I believe that you care about me, and it means the world to me. I want you to know that.” I took a deep breath and seized the opportunity I’d been waiting for. “Will you write me a letter? So that I know how you honestly feel about me?”

Mr. Stevens seemed to hesitate, but finally he nodded.

“All right,” he said, “But you have to be really careful. We both have to be very careful. And after you read the letter you have to destroy it, or give it back to me so that it doesn’t end up in the wrong hands.”

“You can trust me,” I reassured him, “I wouldn’t do anything to get you in trouble. But, I don’t think I’ll want to give it back.”

He paused, then nodded again. “I felt the same way about yours,” he said, leaning toward me again.

We stole another lingering kiss before I left his classroom. I walked quickly down the hallway, wondering if I looked any different now than I had when I walked into his classroom just an hour before. I felt different. I felt … alive. I glanced at Principal Warren’s office as I walked by, and remembered what Mr. Stevens had said about his life and his career. One of the walls of the Principal’s office was glass from floor to ceiling, with mini-blinds obscuring the interior. Was he in there? Was he watching through the glass? Had he seen me leave? What if he knew how long I had been in Mr. Stevens’ classroom?

I pushed these thoughts out of my mind and hurried toward the parking lot.

Chapter Seven

Friday, I’m in Love

A
s time went on, the spring days got longer and stretched toward summer. Sunsets lingered and came later and later in the evening, and the air-dried and warmed toward the hottest months. My afternoons became longer, due to the extended daylight hours, and I was thankful for that, because it allowed me to maximize my time with Mr. Stevens in his classroom after school, where I spent three to four afternoons every week.

At least once a week, though, our swim team traveled to a meet at another high school. We never hosted the meets at our school, as our practice pool was too small. The additional travel made the afternoons even longer, and tortured me endlessly. I ached to be near Mr. Stevens in every sense, and being around him in such a public place was sheer torture. Seeing him across the swimming pool, keeping time on the races and keeping official scores … it pained me to be so far from him, but the last thing I wanted to do was expose him. He had risked so much to touch me, kiss me, hold me, and care for me, and I didn’t want to ruin that or endanger our relationship. The knowledge that we were breaking the law was exciting, but also a bit frightening, and I didn’t want either of us to get caught. So I bit my lip and controlled my feelings, and tried to seem distant and aloof around him when we were in public.

“What’s up with you?” Vicky asked one day during practice. “Did Mr. Stevens piss you off or something?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. He didn’t piss me off. Why?” I asked, suspicious of her motives. Had she seen something? Did she know what was going on? “What makes you think I’m pissed off at him? Did someone say something?”

Vicky shrugged. “No. But you used to hang out with him all the time, and now you avoid him like the plague. Whenever he comes over to talk to us, you walk away. What’s all that about?”

I realized suddenly that I had gone from one extreme to the other in a few weeks. That was a mistake, and people were bound to notice. I couldn’t backtrack now, though – the damage was done. What was I supposed to say? “
Yeah, I’m staying away from Mr. Stevens because I don’t want anyone to know I’m making out with him after practice
” would never do.

“You know, he was pretty cool at first,” I replied as nonchalantly as possible. “But one day I was late for practice and he made me go to the diving pool to swim laps. I’m not going to hang around with him if he’s going to be such a jerk, you know?”

That answer must have been good enough for Vicky, because she lightly tapped my shoulder and then jumped into the water to swim off. I laughed as I watched her swim away; she was doing the butterfly – badly – and bumping into other swimmers as she shimmied from side to side down the crowded lane. My smile faded, though, when I realized that she was probably voicing what everyone else had noticed as well. My sudden change of attitude had been just that – sudden and unexpected – and people were going to wonder why. I had to come up with a better story, and quick, or change my behavior again and hope that no one else said anything.

I wasn’t sure which option was best, or which would cause me more pain. Our late- afternoon rendezvous were becoming more and more intense, and my senses were becoming fragile. When I walked toward his classroom, now, I knew that there would be more physical contact, with less clothing. We hadn’t gone all the way yet, and Mr. Stevens was always very careful about my feelings – he asked me if I was okay with what we were doing every five minutes, it seemed – but we were both getting braver, and closer. I didn’t know if I could be close to him without really wanting him, but I was afraid of getting hurt.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was also starting to fall in love with him.

***

He had asked me to call him Tom after a couple secret meetings, and nothing delighted me more. It gave me a sense of belonging and intimacy – a secret that we shared together, rather than a secret I shared only with a teacher. He had started writing me letters, and I adored them. I blushed, smiled, giggled, and sighed with content when reading about his feelings, desires and emotions.

Today was one of the days when I had to head straight home from school – to maintain some appearances, Tom said – and my heart was heavy at the thought of going home without seeing him. I found a letter in my locker, though, which improved my mood. I rushed down the two blocks between the school and my house, ran through the door and into the house, shouted a quick hello to my mother in the kitchen, and rushed to my bedroom.

“Isabel, are you okay?” she shouted after me, her voice worried. She had asked me the same question several times, and I wondered how much she knew. I thought that she had probably noticed my extended absences and preoccupation. I was sure that she’d noticed my obsession with being at swim practice every afternoon. She’d also made comments about the fact that I’d begun to wear more fitted clothing and wear makeup to school, something I had never done before. She hadn’t asked me why, though, and I didn’t plan to tell her.

This particular secret wasn’t ready for sharing, quite yet. Given the nature of the secret, I told myself, I didn’t know if I would
ever
share it.

“I’m fine, Mami,” I shouted down the hallway. “Just have homework that needs to get done.” I waited for a moment to see if she was going to respond, then closed the door to the outside world and jumped on my bed. I got cozy under the fluffy comforter, then pulled the letter out of its envelope.

Dear Isabel
,

I read your letters over and over again before I destroy them – and even then, that’s the last thing I want to do. I don’t have a choice, though. I wish I could keep them, and reread them whenever I want. Your words ease my mind and bring a joy that I have not felt in years. But I’m terrified that they’ll be discovered
.

I’ve never felt totally comfortable writing to you, because I’m very concerned that someone will find the letters and use them against me. But I know we both express our feelings much more honestly on paper than face to face, and I want you to know what’s in my heart when the words coming from my mouth fail me. As long as you destroy the letters I write to you, or return them to me, I have no reason to worry
.

I wanted to tell you, Isabel, that you’re doing great. You do such a great job ignoring me when we’re in public that it almost hurts, though I know that it’s necessary. I’m not as good at it – sometimes I’m foolish and I get too close to you when we’re at school or at the pool, and I should know better. I know that you’re protecting me, sometimes much more than I protect myself … and for this, I’m very grateful
.

You’ve turned my life upside down, Isabel, and I don’t mean that in a bad way at all. I know it wasn’t your intention, or mine, to end up in this kind of relationship. I’m not the most poetic or romantic guy in the world, but I can tell you this: my heart skips a beat when I see you walk by; my heart races when you glance my way and smile; and the way you look at me, that look that you save just for me, it makes me forget to breathe. I’ve never been the jealous type, but it bothers me so much when I see guys looking at you, or even coming by the pool to flirt with you. That’s the kind of power you have over me, Isabel. I don’t think you even realize it!