I woke up in my bed, my body heavy and my breathing uneven. I had slept only a couple of hours. My blonde hair was tangled and stuck to my neck, damp from restless night sweats. The light blanket lay crumpled around my naked body. My heart beat faster than I wanted to admit, and my skin felt hot. The arousal that had gripped me last night—when I heard and saw Laura and Marcus behind the curtain—hadn’t faded. My thoughts were foggy, filled with shame and that inexplicable temptation that had kept me awake: the bottle game, their stares when I took off my T-shirt, my helpless attempt to cover myself, and then Laura and Marcus—naked bodies, the creaking bed, their moans. It had all ignited something in me. Lying there under the sheet, I felt my chest rising faster, my nipples still sensitive, and that heat pulsing between my thighs, forcing me to hold my breath.

I glanced at the clock—6:15 a.m. Today would be a long day: four classes before lunch, then thankfully free in the afternoon. Though there was still time before the first lesson, I wanted to leave the apartment early.

“I have to get out before they wake up,” I thought, my heart pounding. Laura and Marcus were probably still asleep in the next room, under the covers, maybe wrapped in each other’s arms. I couldn’t bear the thought of facing them—the bottle game stares, the moment they heard my moans. I rose slowly, trying not to make the bed creak as I slid the blanket off. My panties lay on the floor; my legs felt weak from last night’s tension. My body trembled.

“I’ve fallen into this trap again,” I thought, my face burning with shame. Yesterday at work, I had been focused, holding myself together. But now—sleepless, my whole body on fire—the only thing I could think about was last night’s scene: Laura riding Marcus, her breasts bouncing, his hands on her round ass. It played vividly in my mind, and the heat was too strong to ignore.

I stood quickly. The bed squeaked faintly. I froze, listening. From Laura’s room came only soft, steady breathing.

“They’re still asleep,” I thought, relief mixing with anxiety. I hurried to dress. I grabbed a black lace bra and thin black thong—the first things I found in my suitcase—a sheer light blouse, a short dark summer skirt, and my ready-packed handbag. Wrapping a towel around myself, I slipped into the bathroom with my clothes. I took a quick hot shower, trying to rush. In front of the mirror, I dressed. I looked too provocatively sexy—the blouse too thin and revealing, the skirt barely reaching mid-thigh, exposing my long, tanned legs. I hadn’t dressed this seductively in a while; the boys had been behaving at school. But I didn’t dare go back to my room for different clothes.

“I’ll manage,” I decided. I threw on a gray jacket, grabbed my bag, and tiptoed out the door—my heart racing.

The Los Angeles morning was still quiet. The streets were empty, a light breeze rustling through the palms, carrying the scent of waking city—gasoline, dust, and distant coffee. I hurried to the bus stop. My blouse clung to my skin; the skirt rubbed against my thighs. The bus was nearly empty—just a few early commuters in the front, eyes glued to their phones. I sank into the back seat, pressed my legs together, and stared out the window, trying to forget last night.

“I need to calm down and focus on school,” I thought. But it felt impossible.

I stepped into the school building. The hallways were empty, only the faint echo of a janitor’s steps and dripping water from the first floor. My office was on the second floor—a small room with a narrow desk, an old chair, a computer, pale walls, and a window letting in gray morning light. I reviewed today’s lessons and prepared: math problems, geometry topic, diagrams for the board.

When I entered the classroom, all the boys were present—except Thomas. My cheeks flushed from lack of sleep and last night; my demeanor distracted. The boys noticed.

“Hey, Miss Stella, rough night? You look… hot!” Alex said, grinning. The others chuckled.

“Yeah, like you partied all night,” Mike added, his eyes sliding over my blouse.

“Or someone wouldn’t let you sleep?” Ryan teased, winking.

I blushed, forcing a smile.

“Enough, boys. Let’s focus on the lesson. New topic today.”

My sheer blouse didn’t help. When I walked to the window side of the room and stepped into the sunlight, the black bra beneath showed clearly. The short skirt left half my thighs bare. They didn’t miss it.

“Miss, that blouse is… eye-catching today,” Alex laughed.

“I like the new style!” John called, staring at my blouse and skirt.

My cheeks burned hotter. I tried to stay calm.

“Stop it. What’s wrong with you today? Focus on the board.”

But inside, my body reacted—nipples pressing against the bra, heat pooling low in my belly. As if last night wasn’t enough, now the boys teased with compliments. Being only a few years older, their male attention still flustered me. I was supposed to be their teacher. I took a deep breath and tried to focus.

In the second lesson, after introducing the new topic and giving assignments, the boys exploited every chance. They called me over to check their work—always to the sunny window side. It seemed planned during break.

“Miss Stella, come here—I desperately need you!” Alex called, giggling.

I hesitated but told them to try themselves. They wouldn’t let up. I went, feeling their eyes on my blouse and legs. My embarrassment was obvious.

Ryan leaned in.

“Miss, can you open the window? It suddenly got really hot.”

I blushed.

“Ryan, focus on the assignment!”

He continued, “Seriously, you look extra beautiful today. Is it because you didn’t sleep?”

The others snickered. My voice trembled.

“Solve the problem, or you’ll get a two and stay after class.”

Suddenly, seven hands shot up.

“Teacher, can we stay after too?” they laughed.

Break time. The boys didn’t leave me alone. They crowded around my desk, buzzing like bees.

“Miss, do you have a boyfriend?” one asked.

“You look like a model,” another said.

I blushed, trying to stay calm.

“Boys, go rest. It’s break.”

But inside, I felt a thrill—their stares, their closeness, my skirt brushing my thighs.

Mike showed me a music video on his phone. As he took it back, his hand brushed mine.

“Sorry, Miss, but you’re like a magnet today.”

I giggled nervously, blushing.

“What am I going to do with you all to calm down?”

The morning classes ended. Relief washed over me. I hurried to my office to compose myself. Sleeplessness, last night, and the boys’ attention overwhelmed me. I felt guilty for letting it affect me. I barely sat—heart pounding, body still hot—when a knock sounded. Javier entered.

The chemistry teacher. I knew he wasn’t indifferent to me. I was sure he wouldn’t leave me alone.

He noticed my flush.

“Stella, you look… heated. Boys teasing again?”

He smiled, stepping closer.

“You’re glowing today. That blouse… suits you.”

I blushed.

“Thanks, Javier. Just a warm day.”

He continued.

“I’m planning a field trip next month with my class. Want to join with your boys? We could combine. Your class is the envy of the school—they talk about you nonstop.”

I giggled.

“They’re just boys.”

He tilted his head.

“But I’m a man. And I can’t ignore you.”

His eyes lingered on my sheer blouse.

“What do you think about the trip?” he asked casually, as if the prior comment hadn’t happened.

I hesitated.

“Yeah, that could be fun. We’ll discuss details later, Javier…”

He laughed.

“We’re agreed then. Seriously, you’re like a breath of fresh air in this city.”

As he left, he added,

“Stop by Tommy’s office—he was looking for you.”

A sly smile. His eyes paused on my chest.

“He’s not indifferent,” I thought, startled. His gaze was intense, making my heart race.

“Okay, I’ll go now,” I replied quickly.

My body trembled.

“Javier is something special. I actually like him,” I admitted. Then sobriety hit.

“No, that means more trouble.”

I didn’t need this—I was already struggling to focus in this city. Los Angeles had trapped me with its rhythm and temptations. Javier—his look, his smile—was the next danger to avoid.

I grabbed my handbag and hurried down the corridor to Tommy’s office. My blonde hair fell messily over my shoulders, the white blouse and summer skirt clinging to my skin.

It was 2 p.m.—hallways filled with students as the next break began. I rushed to Tommy’s room, heart racing. I knocked. He opened quickly.

“Stella, there you are!” he said, dark hair slightly tousled, smile friendly but probing.

“I… was in class,” I mumbled, voice shaky.

“Come in.”

I stepped into his larger office—books and papers everywhere. He sat behind the desk, gestured to a chair. My body was hot, panties rubbing my skin. I sat carefully—the tight skirt rode up slightly. I kept my legs together, trying to hide it.

“I wanted to tell you something,” Tommy began.

I blushed.

“What is it?”

“Our school is featured in an article. Tradition includes profiling one teacher—showing school life and the human side. You’ve been chosen as the school’s most beautiful teacher. There’ll be a short feature and nice photos. All teachers agreed.”

I stared, heart nearly stopping, body tensing.

“I can’t do that,” I whispered, face burning.

“Tommy, I… I…”

Deep down, I knew my looks. I had secretly dreamed of trying modeling. My shyness and easy blushing had always stopped me.

“It’s an honor, Stella,” Tommy continued.

“I’ll handle the interview and highlight your work and progress. You just need to let them take beautiful background photos. Professional studio. I’ll drive you—today at five.”

I blushed deeper, trembling.

“I… I’m tired,” I tried, voice shaking.

“Stella, it’s decided. You’re perfect. We all think so,” he said firmly.

My resistance crumbled. Secretly, I was thrilled—could my dream come true? Try modeling and photography?

“Okay,” I barely whispered.

He led me to his car—a gray sedan smelling faintly of cigarettes. The heat inside me grew as I imagined posing under others’ gazes. I was trapped again, heart fluttering.

“Get used to it,” I told myself silently. “This city never lets you rest.”