The most trouble though was when one day after school I hit hard on the band teacher. He was in his mid twenties, gorgeous, hot, let the kids call him by his first name, and I just wanted him. And what Lindy wants, Lindy gets. So I thought at seventeen. After school I went into one of the practice rooms, took off my bra under my tee shirt, and put it in my purse. Then I went into his office, where he was sitting slouched in his chair facing the computer screen, and I just kind of draped my boobs over his shoulders. He looked at me in the mirror on his desk and said "Lindy, what are you doing?" and I said something to the effect that he should lock the door and pull the shade, I had something I wanted to show him. He said "Lindy, wait, I have to go to the bathroom." and walked out the door. Then he went and CALLED MY DAD who walked in the door about ten minutes later.
I was mortified! I adore my Dad and I could tell the he was so hurt and...disappointed in me. I was grounded for the rest of the year --about six weeks. Took my car away.
Made me do volunteer work at a nursing home. We laugh about it now, fifteen years later, but God, was I in the doghouse. Five years later he (band director) sent me a card for college graduation and wrote a nice note about how I was one of his favorite students, and thanking me for helping him in his personal growth.
I cried and cried and cried. And writing this I'm sniffing, and my eyes are all misty.