Isabelle: Chapter 3 - Sex Stories

Isabelle: Chapter 3

... Isabelle. “I see,” Mrs. Rudy said, going back to the introduction. All of my classes were double period classes so they lasted 90 minutes each, which felt like forever. I kept looking around the room for anything to distract me from my boredom. My eyes wandered and wandered until they ended up fixed on Isabelle. I hated how she made me feel but loved it at the same time. Everything about her just made me like her even more. “Her hair looks a little more curly today than usual,” I found myself thinking, “And her cute dress looked really good on her.” Why was it so impossible for me to just ignore her, even more a minute? “Mr. -um- Callahan,” I heard Mrs. Rudy say, bringing my attention to the front of the board. “What?” I asked surprised and nervous. “I know the wall looks great today, but could you please focus,” she said, saving me from the embarrassment of letting the class know I had been looking at Isabelle. “Yes ma’am,” I replied, focusing back to the front of the class. The classes giggles slowly died down as Mrs. Rudy continued with her seemingly endless introduction to Psychology. “Maybe this is a test to see who here was mentally fit,” I thought to myself. Soon, she transitioned to the lesson for the day and everybody got out their notebooks and laptops. I always left my laptop at home simply because I was paranoid somebody would log on and find something I didn’t want the world knowing I did. Besides, handwriting notes left more of an imprint in my mind. As the ...

... class dragged on to the bell for third period, I found myself having to shake the thought of Isabelle out of my mind too frequently. When passing time began and everyone spilled into the narrow hallways, Isabelle grabbed hold of my hand again as I lead her through the maze of walls and lockers, dodging other students and teachers at every corner. “This should be it,” I said as we entered the health class. Mr. Hutt, our health and fitness teacher, welcomed all the 13 of us to the class as we found our seats at the small, circular tables spread out across the room. “Who’s ready to talk about some Penises and Vaginas?” he began, making some of the kids giggle. “Wow, this is a tiny class,” he stated, looking around the room. Another long, boring introduction ensued as my mind wandered again. I was really good at occupying time with over analyzing social situations, looking at them from every angle possible, which was a curse and a blessing. For one thing, I was never bored, but at the same time I was always spacing out. As Mr. Hutt read off the attendance sheet, he came across Isabelle. “Isabelle Servais,” he said, questioning the pronunciation of her last name. “That is me,” she replied. “Are you the new-“ “Oui,” she replied, cutting him off. “Oh great!” Mr. Hutt said, “Class, this is Isabelle, she’s a foreign exchange student from France.” “Bonjour,” Isabelle said to the class. “Do you have a preferred nickname?” Mr. Hutt asked. “eh, Isabelle or Izzy,” she replied. “Alright, Izzy, ...