Classroom InterludeI tried to straighten my face as I stuck the Ms Mack sign on my classroom door. I didn’t succeed. It was 5.52pm on a Thursday night and I should have been at home, in the shower, turning myself into a submissive goddess in expectation of my Sir’s arrival, and instead I was uncomfortable in the heels and crumpled shirt and blouse that I’d been wearing all day, interviews with thirty sets of anxious parents ahead of me. By the time I made it home, I’d have a pounding head and nothing but an empty bed to look forward to.
Well, that and a massive glass of wine.
It didn’t matter that Sir had messaged me three days ago to tell me he couldn’t make our weekly assignation, either – or that I’d forgotten to tell him I’d be working late and wouldn’t be free, something I’d have go
