3.1 - A Story About a Married Teacher Who Becomes Obsessed With Her Female Student

Chapter 3: "In The Sea Without Borders" - Part One 'What's the color of your underwear today, Sensei?' 'Stop sending sexual harassment like it's a morning greeting.' 'I just want to enjoy imagining what color underwear you're wearing while watching you teach.' 'Pay attention to the class. The exams are coming up.' I sighed heavily and tossed my phone onto the bed. It was a cheeky message from Togawa-san amidst my frantic preparations. It wasn’t exactly unwelcome, but... Is this where I’ve gone wrong? In the past, I might have found it more amusing. But perhaps engaging personally with a student like this is already crossing the line. I am, after all, a failed teacher on the verge of social death, a delinquent, a criminal for reaching out to a girl ten years my junior, engaging in adultery, depravity, and indiscretion. My future seems foggy, and I feel like I could disappear any moment now. Why am I still alive? Why do I put on makeup and head to school as if it’s the most natural thing? The reflection staring back didn’t even appear awkward; it was stoically indifferent. As if unscathed by wounds or pains. My hair and skin weren’t suffering from stress; if anything, lately, I’ve been putting more effort into polishing my appearance. There's no need to contemplate who might be watching. Why am I calmly sitting in front of the vanity, just steps away from social downfall? My emotions aren’t completely dead, after all. The phone, which I had thrown, buzzed again. Despite my rush, I dutifully checked it. 'My guess is blue.' "..........................." The fact that I acted on what came to mind at this moment was proof that my sensibilities had completely transformed. Feeling a tingling burn at my fingertips, I took a photo, and sent it to Togawa-san. I captured an image with my shirt slightly unbuttoned, showing just a hint of my underwear. "............................................" My head felt painfully hot, as if it were burning. 'You're wrong.' I added this simple message before the scorching pain spread across my cheeks, bringing regret. It was the first time I had taken such a photo—or sent one, for that matter. An unpleasant sweat broke out, certainly ruining the makeup I had applied thus far. 'Sensei...' Togawa-san seemed to have run out of words too, reacting in such a way. I felt a deep regret, being far too old for such things. Moreover, when turned into text, Togawa-san's ‘sensei’ felt stiff and pressed on my chest. 'I thought the naughty Togawa-san might like something like this.' Even my words quickened in pace. 'This is too much.' 'This is dangerous.' 'It's dangerous, Sensei.' 'My head is spinning.' Togawa-san’s frantic messages arrived one after another. For now, it's apparently a hit? I felt a slight relief in that. Being nearly thirty, I do feel insecure at times. Togawa-san is in her teens, in the prime of her life. Comparing our skin would clearly highlight the age difference. 'Are you tempting me?' "Tempting... oh, you mean seduction." 'That wasn't my intention.' 'Then, are you just naughty, Sensei?' As much as I wanted to deny it, the photo made it hard to argue. Why did I send it? Regret swelled anew. 'Don't send this to anyone else.' 'I don't have anyone else to send it to.' 'Your husband.' 'I don't do this kind of thing with my husband.' What does that even mean? It’s unsettling. Discussing my husband with Togawa-san feels wrong. I've avoided addressing what Togawa-san thinks of my husband because I know that whatever her answer is, it'll painfully tear at me. 'Sensei, you're a bad woman without even realizing it.' 'Bad?' 'Since I got the underwear color wrong, I’ll use this selfie for practice and review.' 'Delete it.' 'Nope.' The words ‘practice and review,’ echoed in my head making my ears feel as if they were splitting with heat and pain. Today, when I head to school, only Togawa-san will associate my lecturing with the color of my underwear. I will proceed with homeroom, unflinching, even as that fact sends tremors through my chest. "I should just die... I should just die..." Even my curses sounded faint and breathless. The disparity from my earlier self almost moved me to tears. But bowing forward, deeply lost in thought, what slipped from me wasn’t tears, but something much more murky. 'What about you, Togawa-san?' Forgetting to swallow, I sent the message while a dry ache formed in my throat. It was a cowardly prompt, obscuring exactly what aspect of Togawa-san I meant. I curled up, hugging my shoulders, overwhelmed by my own greed, dirtiness, and shamelessness, my head throbbed with pain. I thought again, maybe I should just die. I still held onto morals that wanted to salvage my dignity, but I lacked the strength to uphold them, just helplessly stirring chaos within. The torment might end if they simply ceased to exist, but would Togawa-san accept such a resignation from me? Shortly, a reply came in from Togawa-san. Seeing the message made a short, sharp gasp catch in my throat. The sight was of a skirt lifted to reveal what was underneath. The question of whose skirt it was or whose underwear was trivial. It was my first time seeing below Togawa-san's skirt. It was a twisted relationship, where I had fondled her breasts but had never seen this before. Or was it twisted? Maybe I'm just cutting in line, since I've seen her bare breasts before but never her underwear. The underwear was a familiar blue, a design I recognized. 'A matching set with Sensei's. I searched for it and bought it.' 'Figures...' She put them on me when I crashed drunkenly at her place. It seemed a bit plain for someone her age, but still, it fit under Togawa-san's skirt. Her skirt. Legs. The idol show. Flashbacks hit. The cuteness and ulterior motives of the side-to-side jumps made me want to throw up. 'Are you seducing me?' 'I am.' I'm somewhat grateful this was just an image. The heat swelling in my head, threatening to burst, was bearable. If this had unfolded in front of me in real life, what would have happened to me, to Togawa-san? 'Can I come by during lunch today, too, Sensei?' Such an unassuming line had me holding my breath. Having Togawa-san visit during lunch had become a kind of confirmation between us. Just typing a short response made my thumb quiver slightly. 'Of course.' 'K.' I thought to myself, "It happened yesterday as well," but after having this exchange, I realized it would happen today too. After all, I was the one who started this by sending my selfie. It was almost like an invitation, and in fact, it would be a lie to say that that wasn't my intention. Sharing a deep connection with a girl ten years younger, finding joy in being ardently desired. That version of myself was certainly, undeniably, here.