At one o’clock, I fall into my comfy rolling chair behind my desk. My door is closed, and I’m hoping to catch up on e-mails and make a dent in this paperwork piled high on my desk.

I place my hand on my mousepad, feeling around for the mouse.

What the …?

Where’s the damn mouse?

I check under my desk and inside the drawers, but it doesn’t take too long for realization to set in.

“Goddamnit.”

I tear open the door and stomp down the hallway.

Raegan’s at the whiteboard in her classroom in the middle of a math lesson. She doesn’t look surprised when I barge into her room and start searching through the drawers in her desk.

She does, however, look like a cat who’s been caught with a mouthful of bird.

With a bounce in her step, she waltzes over to me. “Good Afternoon, Principal Waters. Can I help you? What is it that you’re looking for?”

Glancing at the class briefly, I give her a hard stare and smile. “You know exactly what I’m looking for.”

“I can assure you that I don’t.”

I edge closer to her, lowering my lips to her ear. Her warm, sweet scent wafts into my nostrils, and I fight the urge to run my nose along her neck. Focus, Waters. Jesus. “Give it back, or things are going to get a lot worse for you around here.”

Her eyes blaze as they lock with mine. She closes the gap between us, her chest almost pressed flush against me, and she whispers, “You don’t scare me.”

A shiver racks through my body. I can’t decide if I want to strangle her or fuck her right here on her desk. I’m starting to gain a better understanding of people who have a choking fetish.

“Hi, Principal Waters!” Hannah’s waving at me with Joshua at her side.

I clear my throat and straighten my tie. “Hi, Hannah. Hello, class. I hope you’re all having a great day full of fun and learning.”

Raegan chokes back a laugh as she saunters back to the whiteboard.

Laugh it up now. You won’t be laughing for much longer.

The rest of September goes on like a tennis match.

Or more like a fucked up, sabotage-filled, immature version of a tennis match.

After Raegan’s little stunt, I started locking my office door. Fool me once, lesson learned.

But she’s found other ways to get back at me.

During a faculty meeting one afternoon, Raegan “accidentally” spilled her coffee on my crotch. If you’re wondering whether it was hot or iced coffee, you must be a woman. A man would know that either temperature means equally bad news for the prized possession in my pants.

Iced. It was iced.

So what did I do to retaliate?