Angry Teacher Nicoletta
The key turned in the lock with a sharp click, breaking the silence of the apartment. Nicoletta closed the security door behind her, resting her forehead against it for a handful of interminable seconds. It had been a grueling day within the walls of the school: seven hours spent dealing with thirty shrill voices, arguments over a broken ruler, scribbles on the desks, and an extraordinary faculty that had dragged on until late afternoon like a sentence.
Then, the insistent ringing of the notification from the laptop on the desk shattered all hope. There she was, standing by her bed, answering in her red shoes, her knee-length skirt, and her red glasses.
A small red square pulsed on the screen: Make-up call 6:30 PM Individual review of geometry and verbs.
Nicoletta held back a hoarse sigh, running a hand over her face. She'd forgotten the last appointment of the week: the online session with Samuele, the academic despair of the class, a boy capable of staring into space for twenty minutes straight before he could distinguish a trapezoid from a slice of cake.
She dropped to the floor, turned on the webcam, trying to compose a vaguely professional expression, and entered the virtual room. The metallic sound of the connection gave way to the grainy frame: the boy appeared on the screen with his head resting heavily on his graph paper, a chewed pencil between his fingers, and his gaze lost who knows where at the ceiling of his room.
Good evening, teacher... mumbled a drawn-out voice, accompanied by the crackling hiss of the microphone.
Good evening to you, Samuele. Page forty-seven, problem number two. Read aloud, please.
Thus began an ordeal of surreal slowness. Each syllable was pronounced with monumental effort; The words stumbled over each other, punctuated by endless pauses where only the boy's heavy breathing and the dull tapping of the pencil on the desk could be heard.
Then something clicked in Nicoletta's mind... something truly perverse... why not teach her something else? She began to undress slowly... very slowly, one item of clothing at a time, and then, seeing the boy's shocked face, she began to rant and piss until things got really extreme... a fantastic, fat shit that could be eaten straight from her shoes. Something truly extreme, unmentionable.
