Teacher's Pet, Part 2

From Puffery@prodigy.com Mon Sep  9 03:18 EDT 1996
Date: Mon,  9 Sep 1996 02:16:40, -0500
Subject: Teacher's Pet (2 of 2)

Perhaps two thirds smoked, I extinguished the cigarette.  I'd taken a 
number of somewhat more ambitious inhales and had been rewarded by 
concomitantly proficient exhales.  But the world too was beginning to 
spin and queasiness was setting in.  I knew that I'd have to pace 
myself.

Mom had been adamant that morning for a change about just the two of 
us having dinner together so I had to keep my wits about me.  After 
that second glass of wine I steadfastly refused another and switched 
over to water.  Signs of drunkenness couldn't be covered up.  On the 
other hand I did have a couple more cigarettes, Winstons its seems, 
figuring that any detected smell could be dumped off on Sheila.  Mom 
wasn't crazy about her anyway.

The four o'clock chimes on Steven's grandfather clock signaled my 
departure.  In the light of day he didn't offer a ride nor did I 
suggest it.  Bundling up my stuff, I headed quickly for the door 
where he met me with my coat and this time the follow up hug couldn't 
be interpreted as incidental.  His arm brushed slowly across my body 
from neck to derriere resting there for a noticeable moment.  A 
pleasant moment.  Impetuously I turned and gave him a light peck on 
the cheek then gave him a very sincere thanks.  "Please come again 
soon" he said very genuinely.  "Count on it" I replied.  The next 
time there would be no guise.

I took a slight deter on the way home in order to pass by a Seven 
Eleven.  "A pack of Parliaments.  No, make that two"  I requested 
confidently to a clerk that I didn't know by name but recognized from 
around school.  He responded mechanically and, with an "Oh, some 
matches too please" I exited the store.  Suddenly, I appeared to no 
longer be so disinterested in smoking.  And a little rush came with 
that realization.

I knew that if I hustled I'd have a good hour around the house before 
mom would arrive so I elected to detour through a little park, seldom 
used this time of year.  At an out of the way bench encircled by 
trees, I retreated and pulled one pack out of the picnic basket where 
I'd stashed them.  For a couple of minutes I just toyed with it and 
then finally decided to proceed.  This wasn't a week for second 
thoughts.

I carefully unwrapped the cellophane ribbon then lifted off the 
cellophane top.  Next I meticulously peeled back the foil protecting 
the cigarettes and struggled to get one out, yet unaware of the 
knuckle tap protocol.  Why I'd bought Parliaments I wasn't really 
sure.  I could kind of picture some elegant woman sitting in a garden 
and something about their recessed filter.  They just sounded clean 
and cool and saying "Parliaments please" just seemed oh so 
sophisticated.  Whatever.

Anyway, once extracted I quite quickly lit up, this time paying far 
more attention to the mechanics required.  Inhaling wasn't that 
difficult but it certainly was trippy.  Half a dozen puffs and my 
head would swirl.  That not entirely being a bad thing, I took 
another few.  The taste wasn't either good or bad.  More like 
peculiar.  They did however produce a kind of high and it had been 
even ever so much more intense sitting there with Steven.  No time 
for a second one now.  My margin of error for the evening was rapidly 
disappearing.

Mom did get home on time but I'd already changed clothes and thrown 
the old ones into the washer and grabbed a quick shower.  Evidence 
past.  We had a fairly pleasant time at dinner mostly chatting about 
her upcoming wedding.  I was just beginning to appreciate the favor 
that Art had done for me.  Emancipation thanks to diversion.  And 
more thanks were due tonight as she was headed for his place and, for 
the first time and blushingly, she admitted that she might not be 
back until breakfast.

Hallelujah.  I needed a night with just me.  Not mom.  Not Sheila.  
Not even Steven.  Just me.  I'd carved out a well articulated path 
and before I walked it, I'd better figure out why I was doing so.  A 
month from seventeen and I'd led a very sheltered life.  That had 
really been okay.  I recognized who I was.  Forthright, reliable, 
predictable.  I liked it that way.  

Neither drinking nor smoking had ever held much appeal to me.  Not 
because I was a prude or anything.  More like "who needs them?"  Well,
 suddenly the answer seemed to be me.  Out of nowhere suddenly I 
needed them or wanted them anyway.  Why?  Because they were perfect 
companion activities for being with Steven.  And what about Steven?  
Was this about him?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  But it was certainly about 
me.  And I was beginning to recognized what I was.  Plain, simple, 
horny.  And I didn't like it that way.

My sexual portfolio was indisputably light.  I was still a virgin.  
Well pretty much so.  One night the previous summer I was hanging out 
over at Russell's and we started fooling around.  I guessed he'd had 
a crush on me for a long time and I thought he was okay.  What the 
hell.  You've got to do it sometime with somebody.  Right?  

So there we are watching television on the floor and the next thing I 
know were necking pretty heavy.  It wasn't all that long before he 
found his way inside my clothes and his exploring felt unexpectedly 
enjoyable.  He wasn't being rough or anything.  I can't say I was 
anywhere near as adventurous in return.  When he started probing 
between my legs I became anxious, but not necessarily discouraging. 
'Just keep it slow' was all I said.

When he finally entered me with his finger it was totally weird.  The 
more he massaged the more I wanted.  So this was what I'd been 
missing.  Still the thought of going all the way was just too scary.  
Particularly with my buddy Russell.  But then the chills started.  
Little spears penetrating every cell of my body.  "Jesus" I screamed 
out loud enough to be heard in the next block.

"Russell go ahead.  Please go ahead." was forming upon my lips but 
not in time.  A mixture of profanity and profession bellowed out of 
Russell and then he was still.  It happened just that once.  By later 
in the evening my thermometer had leveled off and never again had the 
conditions seemed ripe.   Besides, I'd discovered that I could do 
most of what Russell was doing myself.  Perfectly.  Frequently.  
Safely.  It was a remarkable discovery I must say.      

Until this week it had sufficed.  But now the temptations were 
rampant.  As these thoughts ran roughshod through my mind, I was 
sitting out in the peace and the dark of the back patio.  It wasn't 
that cold and what with the portable heater plugged in, actually 
quite endurable.  I chuckled though at how totally curious it would 
look if someone were to find me here all bundled up.  Add to that 
scene, a filling ashtray and an honest-to-God drink.  

Not finding anything else in the house, I'd mixed some vodka with an 
orange soda.  It'll do in a pinch.  And I had six or seven cigarettes 
that evening.  I knew that I was getting the moves down.  To this day 
I'm embarrassed to admit I even brought my make up mirror out with me 
to practice.  I got this strange pleasure out of watching the smoke 
disappear down my throat then resonate throughout me.  I delighted in 
how my exhales brazenly assaulted the mirror's face only then to 
dissipate into the night.  Janet Leigh had best look out.  But better 
get to bed now.  Tomorrow just could be a big day.

As predicted, mom just blew in for breakfast and a change of clothes. 
 It couldn't be much longer 'til her clothes would spend the night 
too.  That could be good.  Very good as a matter of fact I thought 
smugly.  We did our kissy kissy and split.  Though it was not yet 
eight I had much to do over the next three hours.  But first out back 
for a cigarette.  Not bad at all with a cup of coffee.  Who knows.  
This smoking jag just might be all right.

I'd perused my closet the night before with mild disappointment.  
There wasn't a single outfit that seemed appropriate to my purposes.  
Seeing mom leave that morning however rectified the problem.  Her 
wardrobe was far more robust and her skirts a good bit shorter.  I 
selected a white one, archived for the past couple of years, what 
with the five pounds she'd put on and accordingly unlikely to be 
missed.  That, coupled with a red sweater slightly more provocative 
on my larger endowment, and I was in business.  

At nine I was the first customer at the beauty shop.  Not my regular 
place.  Sorta out of the way so why not another cigarette in the 
waiting room and for that matter, pursuant to "Yes.  I'd love a cup 
of coffee thanks.", another in the chair.  "Where do I work?  Oh, I'm 
a secretary at Harris and Fischer.  Came here from Colorado a couple 
of months ago so I'm just starting out.  My fiancee works at the base.
"  A new me.  Why not a new history too?

My ability to pass for twenty or more had been amusing to this point. 
 It now looked that it might be valuable as well.  Being honest, Mr. 
Armstrong, Steven, hadn't just picked me out for my brain.  I'd been 
asked to run for Homecoming Queen the next year but I was still 
debating.  It seemed kind of hokey.  This morning however I was 
leaving nothing to chance.  I'd piggybacked a quick makeover of sorts 
as well.  By ten thirty I'd hit 
Robinson's cosmetic counter and got the clerk enthused over a major 
order that somehow just never materialized.  Not a gigantic 
difference but a difference none-the-less.  The eye heat generated by 
my not unintentional exit through Men's Clothing verified that.  

Ten to eleven and I was easily thirty minutes from his house.  
Without a car the bus would have to make do.  I'd been too 
disinterested to get my license until that point but I made a note to 
rectify that immediately.  And then it was like the bus would never 
come so finally I lit a cigarette and it worked like magic.  The bus 
was there within two minutes.  

Though anxious and first in line, I found myself stepping aside to 
continue my cigarette.  Now trailing the small group, I dragged 
ravenously on this soothing crutch exhaling only belatedly as I 
crushed the half smoked Parliament under my modest height pumps and 
finally boarded.  Yes, red pumps.  And all of this to the rapt 
attention of the bus driver I should add.

The bus dropped me off within a block of Steven's house.  There was 
no trepidation in my step but a subtle, clawing wetness, not to be 
confused with perspiration, persisted.  Again the door was slightly 
ajar but this time I didn't need to yell.  I didn't need to do 
anything.  The door opened before I reached the top stair.  Gone were 
his flannel shirt and jeans and in their stead a smoking jacket and ..
. and what I wasn't so sure.  I was no more than three seconds from 
the point of no return and with the click of the door behind me the 
threshold was figuratively and literally crossed.  

Our table was already set in knowing anticipation and wonderful 
fragrances emanated from the kitchen.  A bottle of white wine lay 
chilling in the ice bucket.  This time he didn't ask to help me off 
with my coat.  He just slid his arms firmly around me and stripped it 
from my body.  Spun like a top, I met and matched his hungry glance 
then stretched my arms about him pulling myself close.  Slowly I 
cocked my head upward and we locked in our first kiss.  My tongue was 
on a maiden voyage but not without a compass.

All pretense now aside, it was anticipation and not the grilled trout 
as the main luncheon entree.  The fresh memory of his male firmness 
playing with my mind.  My crafted fragrance probably equally 
intoxicating to him.  His self-control surprised me when he proposed 
a second glass of wine before retiring somewhere more comfortable.  
He offered the cigarette box to me which I declined to his not well 
camouflaged disappointment.  His chagrin was just fleeting however as 
I asked him to pass me my purse and I removed the now less than half 
full pack of Parliaments.  

My dexterity extracting a cigarette from the pack still embryonic, 
his flame arrived prematurely.  I beamed, accepting his light, and 
seductively tilted back my head to deliver a Rita Hayworth exhale.  
Let's hope nothing else is premature I thought basking now in a tight 
lipped smile.  His attentiveness, never lacking over the past several 
days, intensified dramatically with every puff I took.  So captured, 
I executed the open mouth inhale that I'd practiced the evening 
before and I could swear he saluted from south of the border.  A most 
interesting development.

I reached for a second cigarette curious to see an encore only to 
have him clasp my hand and raised me from the chair.  "Please wait a 
moment" was all he said as he picked up my cigarettes and ashtray 
with his free hand.  I drew a deep breath as he pushed open the 
bedroom door and steered me first through.  It was immaculately 
arranged and the bedspread had been removed in clear anticipation.  
"Would you like to the use the bathroom?" he said, then completed the 
sentence with "first."  

"Yes" I replied.  Splashing a little cold water on my face was 
settling as I prepared for reentry.  First entry?  "There's something 
that you really should know before we continue.  This is my first 
time." I blushed.  

"Of that I was fairly certain but thank you for telling me and 
greater thanks for allowing me this honor.  I'll do my best to 
guarantee your pleasure and eliminate any regrets.  Choosing 
experience is a wise decision on your part.  Guessing this to be the 
case, I've assumed responsibility for precaution" and so saying he 
tore open that little package that foretold the minutes ahead.

The world lost all its dimension.  Slow was fast and fast was slow.  
Hard was soft and soft was hard.  Up was down and down was up.  In 
was out and out was in.  My cry out to Russell had been an unanswered 
answer.  My cry out to Steven was fulfillment fulfilled.  
Relentlessly he managed my every desire while momentarily pre-empting 
his own.  

	I'd been to the mountain before his arrival 
	and thought that the top had been reached,
	But once that he entered the skies opened up
	and the gateway to heaven was breached. 

For a number of minutes I laid in his arms incapable of thought or 
expression.  A cotton candy exhaustion enveloped me.  And he as well. 
 Some time later in a world without later time he made the first move.
  He returned to the room with a split of champagne and two glasses.  
I'd never drunk from a champagne glass before and the first sip 
invited a short-lived giddiness.  A simple "Wow!" and gales of 
laughter ensued from both of us.  

Reclining with several pillows beneath each of us, we sipped and 
toasted.  Simultaneously he refilled his pipe and upon completion 
handed me my cigarettes.  I welcomed the offer and his light as well. 
 Taking several rapid paced inhales with little interest in exhaling, 
a strange euphoria occurred.  First this little unidentifiable 
naggingness of the past few minutes evaporated and somehow the 
unmagnifiable magnificence of the past hour was seriously magnified.  
I'd heard jokes about smoking after sex but having experienced 
neither, I'd paid little attention.  Maybe it wasn't a joke after all.


But an even more amazing byproduct of my smoking manifested before my 
very eyes.  Steven, spent only minutes before, was back in full 
flower as the flame embraced my cigarette tip.  An open mouthed 
inhale, a moment of expectant stillness, and a slow, languishing 
exhale in his general direction.   Mesmerized by my every puff, he 
awaited yet another performance and as I took the cigarette to my 
lips he reached out for me, grabbed my arms, and literally lifted me 
across the bed, the cigarette dangling helplessly from my lips.

Holding me slightly aloft, he gaped as I dragged voraciously on the 
dangling cigarette, exhaling simultaneously around it and through my 
nose.  I did so feeling an incredible rush as the dwindling cigarette 
burned hot and fast nearing the filter, ambient smoke blurring sight 
and smell.  A perfume all our own enveloping us.

Recognizing the exhilaration of the moment I lit a fresh cigarette 
from the stub almost like I knew what I was doing.  And you could say 
we hardly missed a beat as I took the smoke into every pour of my 
body, Steven lowering me gracefully onto his awaiting erection.  I 
was no expert but this one felt even harder than before.  A thrust 
then a drag.  A drag then a thrust.  Another, then another, and then 
no more.  

You couldn't ask much more from a teacher's aide.  A full service 
provider.  Tutoring.  Correcting.  Nurturing.  Oh so nurturing.  I 
just didn't know how to say no to Steven.  Didn't ever really want to 
say no to Steven.  God, if anyone had ever seen the wardrobe that 
Steven bought for me just to wear at his place.  We joked about me 
being the first homecoming queen in leather.  If my classmates had 
only known.  If the other teachers had only known.  

By the time it ended when, as he predicted, I went off to Stanford, 
it probably wasn't the best kept secret in town.  I was very careful 
coming and going but how could my behavior be anything but suspicious.
  Never seen with anyone but also clearly not a stay-at-homer.  
Sheila knew from the start but I never breached his confidentiality 
again.  

When I finally left for school however, he's all I left behind.  My 
taste for booze and nicotine had fully blossomed.  They weren't the 
only substances either.  I cleaned up my act eventually on drugs and 
alcohol, but to this day I'm still a confirmed smoker.  Take away my 
Benson and Hedges Lights and I'm an emotional pre-pubescent again. 

Steven and I parted friends.  Stayed friends really right up until 
his death a year ago.  That's why I finally feel free to share this.  
I've been through three husbands and countless boyfriends but it 
never did match up.  Maybe it was just young lust but I've never 
found quite the same magic.  The last time I saw him he said the same 
thing.  It turns out he'd seduced twenty three of his aides over the 
years and I was the creme de la creme.  The only one that lasted 
through a second year.  Somehow it seems there really should have 
been a page in the annual in recognition, don't you think?  
Student/Faculty affairs perhaps?

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