“You must be our new librarian.” He dropped into the chair opposite her and leaned back, stretching his legs out.

“Um, yeah, that’s me. How’d you know?” She held out her hand. “I’m Liese Harper.”

“Blake Stone, lone drama teacher.” He leaned forward and shook her hand before reclining in his chair once again. “There were only two new hires this year. The other guy teaches science, and I met him when I was grabbing a coffee,” he said.

“Oh right. Well, it’s nice to know I’m not the only new person here.” She glanced around the room. No one else looked as out of place as she felt at that particular moment. Nonetheless, Liese steered the conversation, asking questions about Blake’s program and what it took to run a full production as the sole drama teacher. “It must be a huge time commitment for you,” she prompted.

“Sure, but I love doing it, and so do the students, so it’s worth it. If you want to help out with this year’s play, let me know. No pressure, though.” He winked and looked over her shoulder, waving enthusiastically.

Liese turned to see a tall slip of a woman slide into the seat beside her. Her short blond hair was cut into a straight-edged bob, and thick-framed, funky glasses perched on her nose. “Don’t tell me he’s already trying to recruit you to help him with one of his plays. Don’t do it. Blake is a perfectionist pain in the ass. You’d think he was running Broadway or something with his diva attitude.” Authenticity was absent in her warning. She gave Liese a warm smile. “I’m Emily Captain. I teach art and art history.”

“Liese Harper, the new librarian.” She took Emily’s outstretched hand.

“Don’t listen to anything this one says.” Blake brushed off Emily’s comment. She retaliated by flicking a paperclip at him. Theirs seemed to be a long-standing friendship.

Conversation turned to summer holidays and start-up plans for the fall, with more teachers joining the table as it drew closer to nine o’clock.

Emily flipped through her package and turned it around to Blake. “Have you seen this? They haven’t tried to outlaw it, but they sure are making it a big deal.”

Highlighted by bright yellow paper was a photocopied article on workplace harassment issues, including a bolded section on inter-collegial dating.

Blake scoffed. “I bet this is because of that principal in Berks County.”

“What principal?” Liese asked.

“The one who got caught having an affair with a teacher,” Emily explained.

“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t an affair. Neither one of them was married, from what I read, so that makes it a relationship.” Blake noted as he flipped through the pages of the orientation package.

He appeared uninterested in the topic, and Liese looked surreptitiously at Ryder. Her thoughts turned to the slew of images her best friend had been sending since Liese had accepted the position at FAHL. She’d gone on endlessly about Ryder’s attributes, both physical and intellectual, and in return, Marissa had indulged her with ridiculously porno-riffic pictures. Liese hadn’t thought it much of an issue until now. However, keeping a folder of doctored images featuring her principal might not be the most ethical practice.

If you enjoyed PUCKED, you should read on to experience the hilarity of:

FIRE IN THE HOLE

BY DEBRA ANASTASIA

Dove stood in her hallway for longer than a reasonable person should. All she could picture was Duke downstairs, taking off his crazy outfit. Shit, he’d probably poke his eye out getting that guyliner off right now.

She padded down the stairs and pushed open his door, which was slightly ajar. The light from the bathroom spilled into the living room, and she tiptoed in, and sure enough, he was standing in front of his mirror, dabbing at his left eye over and over and cursing.

She opened the door the rest of the way and waited a second until he saw her. He didn’t say anything. Standing there in unbuttoned jeans, a tight, sleeveless tank, and wild hair, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a dirty book. A filthy dirty book.

Dove grabbed a handful of toilet paper from the roll and scootched in front of him to moisten it lightly with water from the tap. She went to hop up on his sink, and he put his hands on her hips to help her.

“I figured you’d be down here turning your eyeball into a pile of mush.” She bit her bottom lip and ran the paper lightly under his eye, eliminating the smudge that wearing it had caused.

The normally chatty Duke was quiet, but his breath was coming faster and faster.

She moved to his right eye and did the same. The liner was still there, but just a hint now. She tossed the paper in the trash and ran her hand through his hair.

“What kind of product did she put in here? Her orgy-proof stuff is scary.” His hair was stiff but still soft somehow, and she ran her fingers through it a few times. He set his hands on either side of her, and his knuckles went white as if having her touch him caused him pain or made him want to hit something.

She looked from his hands to his eyes, and the lust there was so apparent it was scary in the most sensual way.

“He’s gone. Johnson left.” She ran her hands down his ridiculous biceps. “It’s us. Here.”

He put his hands on her ass and pulled her hard against him. “Damn it, Dove.” His voice was gravelly. “I want to tell you to leave. To go—because you’re too indecisive and it hurts me, but the truth is I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

She ran her hands down his chest, making sure to graze his nipples. He made an almost imperceptible growl. “That’s not fair.”

Duke put his forehead against hers.

“For you. You deserve more. What about Flower?” She touched her nose to his.

“Did you come downstairs and put your legs around me to talk about other people?” And that anger was there again, just resting beneath the passion he was barely keeping a lid on.

She locked her feet behind his back. She hadn’t even done it consciously. “No. I came down here because I needed to see you.”

Was this the same guy who had gay porn embedded on his TV? Was this the guy who wore chicken tighty-whities like a uniform?

His outfit was killing her in her ovaries. She set her hands behind her and pushed out her breasts, knowing her nipples were hard.

“I need you naked. Screaming my damn name. If that’s not happening tonight, you need to get the hell out of here.” He pointed at the door while looking at her chest.

“Duke. I’m not decided about Johnson. I just…” He was right. She should leave.

“Dove.” He grabbed two fistfuls of her hair. “I’d fuck you while he watched if I had to.”

She was supposed to make words, but the closest she got to them was a desperate, moaning hum. He was coiled and ready to pounce on her. The power to flip his switch was in her hands.

Dove put her lips next to his. He was shaking—just a tiny bit.

And then she unleashed him with one word.

“Please.”

***

Duke heard her permission through the blood pounding in his ears. It was going to be a fucking mess. She lived upstairs, she wasn’t sure which guy she wanted, but she was here and she was ready. Duke had watched too much porn to not take an offer of sex when he got one.

From her.

Her.

He kissed her so hard and deep he was pretty sure he could change her religion with his tongue. Her breasts missed him—he could tell; they’d been talking to him ever since he tasted them, even if Dove hadn’t realized it. He tore her shirt open, not really intending to, but her pajamas were so damn old her top reacted like a piece of paper to the force of his hands.