Working late for me isn't anything new.  Especially three times a year when report card marks need to be in.  One would think this would be an unpleasant part of the job, but it helps when one has a friend to pass the time and lighten the mood. 

It really started innocently enough; we had known each other for years as colleagues.  Actually it went back even farther than that.  Believe it or not she had been one of our babysitters when my siblings and I were younger; something I ribbed her about often, as she was a bit sensitive about getting older.  As I hit high school she still chatted with me, and of course I developed the "older woman" crush.  But hormones aside, I knew there was really never a chance of anything really coming of it.  Well, except for me alone in my room with indecent thoughts.  Fast forward a few years and here we were teaching at the same school. 

Vanessa, as I've already hinted, was older than I by a few years, but you would never have known it by her appearance.  I've not known many women who have worked as hard as she did to stay in shape.  And what a shape it was!  She only ever complained about one part of herself, which I thought ridiculous, and that was her ass.  She often lamented that it was too big for her liking.  It was, however, just perfect for my liking and for many of my other male co-workers, and I'm sure a masturbatory session for more than one or two male students.  It was round and capable of hypnotizing anyone who watched her walk down the hall in a nice skirt or jeans.  Hell, a pair of sweats couldn't dampen that walk!  But I've digressed.

Vanessa and I taught the same subject in different levels.  Needless to say, as a result we often found our late night marking sessions coincided.  Often we'd take breaks together and just talk in either her or my classroom.  Both married, we'd talk of our kids and little quirks that we liked and disliked in our spouses.  Once in a while I'd think I caught a glimmer of something more in a look she'd give when we talked, but chalked it up to over-tired infatuation.  We often emailed each other to see how we were progressing from our rooms, which was a bit unnecessary as they were right next door to each other.  The distraction was welcome from the dullness that would set in with the sometimes-repetitive nature of the work. 

One night close to the marks deadline, we were both working late and I wasn't particularly motivated to work on the job at hand.  I emailed as much to Vanessa.  Her reply was the usual sly remark, but had a bit of an edge to it this time.  "You're probably too busy watching porn sites and I'm sure it's hard to mark with only one hand."  While we'd been flirty with a few talks and emails, this