Page 37 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

I ease it in slowly. There’s a stretch, a slight pressure, then it settles. It’s uncomfortable at first, but my body adjusts quickly; the fullness turns warm, almost pleasurable.

I finish getting ready, feeling it with every step. I grab my bag, lock the door behind me, and head to school.

Throughout the day at school, the plug buzzes inside me at the most inconvenient moments.

Every time I stand to write on the board, every time I cross my legs during story time, I feel it. Just enough to make me falter mid-sentence.

In the middle of math centers, it ramps up, short pulses that have me gripping the edge of a desk, my vision blurring. I text Leonid under the table, fingers shaking.

Me: Please stop. I’m going to embarrass myself in front of my colleagues and students.

No response

Me: I’m taking it off

Leonid: Don’t you dare!

By lunch, Maria from second grade studies me over her salad, her brow creasing. “Laurel, are you okay? You look… flushed.”

“Yeah,” I say, forcing a laugh. “Just… hot in here.”

She glances around, confused. “But the air-conditioning is on full blast.”

“Maybe it’s a hot flash. My aunt started getting those when she hit menopause,” comes Aria’s grating voice.

Ignoring her, I grab a donut from the box and make a beeline for the restroom.

I barely make it into an empty stall before the sensation peaks. I bite down hard on the donut to keep myself quiet, knuckles whitening as an orgasm takes over my body.

When the waves finally recede, I’m panting, forehead pressed to the stall door, legs like jelly. The buzzing eases, drops to a low, almost gentle hum, and then fades completely.

I toss the ruined donut in the trash, wash my hands, and stare at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. Maria wasn’t wrong. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes a little too bright.

I splash cold water on my face until I look passably composed, then straighten my blouse and head back to class.

The rest of the afternoon is marginally better, as the buzzing is subdued, but all I can think about is getting home and ripping the damn thing out. Except I can’t. Because tonight, we have a parent–teacher meeting.

I’m setting up the classroom when the door opens, and Leonid walks in.

He’s in a charcoal suit and a gray tie. “Hello, Ms. Harper.”

He winks at me, then takes a seat among the other parents.

He’s never come to one of these before. He always sends a representative, some assistant who takes notes and leaves early.

I take out my phone and type: What are you doing here?

Leonid: For the meeting, of course. A certain someone told me I needed to be more present. Problem?

I stare at the screen. He isn’t wrong. I did tell him that. But how am I supposed to concentrate with him in the same room, while wearing this plug?

I’m pulled out of my thoughts when the Principal walks in, and the meeting starts. I stand at the front, smiling, explaining report cards, behavior trends, and upcoming field trips.

I have just finished talking, and a parent is asking a question when the buzzing begins again. Low at first, then building. I grip the podium, thighs clenching, words stuttering.

“Ms. Harper? You alright?” The Principal asks, looking concerned.

I nod too quickly. “Yes, sorry. Just… excuse me for a second.”