Lessons in Sin

by Pam Godwin

I kicked the toe of Tinsley’s shoe with enough force to send her shooting up in the chair. “That”—I motioned at her ramrod position—“is the posture I expect in my classroom. I’ll deal with your other transgressions later.” Frozen in shock, her lips formed a pouty O. Her hair, the palest shade of gold, reached nearly to her waist, fading to the color of cultured pearls as if naturally whitened by the sun. Long lashes swept outward from extraordinary wraparound eyes that were wide, light blue, and unduly striking. Add to that her small, pointed nose and delicate bone structure and she had a distinct elven look. A purebred beauty with a face that unveiled magic whenever she was provoked. In thirty years, she would be exquisite beyond compare. The kind of allure that elicited intense reactions from the beholder. Most men would find her desirable now, but I was one of the unconventional few who had a strong aversion to teenagers. Even when I was a teenager, I sought older women. An obsession that ultimately became my destruction.