She looked at me sharply but didn’t let the tissues go.
“Can I help you?” she questioned, looking at me primly.
Or, more accurately, my cheek.
I grinned, happy to see that whatever worries that’d been plaguing her now seemed to have fled.
“I’m here to help you go over the lesson for today,” I admitted, looking up to find my nephew, Johnson, staring at me in concern.
He hadn’t lied.
Something about this class absolutely terrified Raleigh to teach.
And I was going to find out what it was.
But first, I had to actually make myself useful so she didn’t get suspicious.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is my favorite lecture to have. You don’t mind, do you?” I teased, batting my eyes.
Raleigh’s eyes went electric.
“N-no,” she stuttered.
I felt something in my stomach flutter.
“Cool,” I said as I took my baseball cap that said ‘Gun Barrel Coach’ off and placed it on the top of her desk. Once there, I turned to the class. “This is where you get to ask me whatever question you want, and I’ll answer it to the best of my ability. This chapter we’re going to go over today is the one where you should be honest and open with your partner. That includes sharing your sexual history, discussing safe sex practices, making sure that your partner is aware and it’s consensual, and also being sure that you’re very much aware of what you’re doing. To do that, you need to be able to have a discussion with your partner. I want you to write a question that you think a sexual partner should ask before sex. Fold it up and then bring it up to the front and put it in my hat. Go.”
Everyone started to tear off strips of paper, and I knew this could get out of hand.
Then again, it always did.
The senior class were technically adults, but a lot of them were just as immature now as they were when they were freshmen.
“All right, first question,” I said, gesturing for Raleigh to pick.
Raleigh pulled out her chair, took a seat, and took a deep breath. Then she pulled out a strip of paper folded so many times that it was hard to see and unfolded it.
Her face flushed a bright red the moment that she read it.
“What is the largest thing a woman can fit inside of her?” Raleigh read, choking slightly on the first few words.
I blinked, then shrugged. “A baby.”
A couple of the students at the back started to snicker.
“Next question.” I grinned at Raleigh.
Raleigh reached for another.
And again, she choked.
“Is it better to have anal or vaginal sex?” she read, sounding extra squeaky.
I bit my lip to keep from bursting out laughing—not because of the question itself, but what that question did to Raleigh’s face.
I turned to the class at large. “I’m going to be completely, one hundred percent honest with you. If you have a willing partner that trusts you, both sexual acts can be very satisfying. It’s up to you to decide which one—if either—you like best. Next?”
Raleigh squeaked so cutely that I wanted nothing more than to expound on my answer just to hear what she’d say—or do—next.
Wrong time, wrong place.
A couple of the girls in the class giggled, as a couple of the male students grunted.
I rolled my eyes.
The entire damn class was filled with my football team, with more than half of them being on the baseball team. This was nothing I hadn’t already heard, in one form or another, from them before.
I was always quite open with my students—and had been—since I’d started teaching this class and realized the importance of it.
“How many calories are there in semen?”
I had no idea.
That was a new question, even for me.
“Uhhh,” I hesitated. “I don’t know.”
I spun around and faced Raleigh, who had a Google device on her desk. “How many calories are in semen?”
The girl was all around surprising.
Then the damn thing answered her.
In a robotic feminine voice, it said, “Each teaspoon of ejaculate has about five to seven calories.”
Everyone, even Raleigh and I, laughed.
“Maybe we should just read these to your Google, Mizz Crusie,” came Johnson’s response.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, we could do that, but then it’s possible you wouldn’t get honest answers. And I want you to have nothing but the truth.”
“So help you God?” Raleigh whispered, almost to herself.
I snorted and bumped her with my hip, then moved to her desk and propped half of my ass right next to her.
“If you have sex underwater, will the baby be a mermaid?” Raleigh tried valiantly not to laugh, then answered that one herself. “No, mermaids aren’t real. However, sex underwater is still unprotected sex. It can, in fact, result in a baby. It just won’t be cool like a mermaid.”
I found myself grinning.
“Next?” I asked.
She pulled out two more. “Last two.”