Her last sentence seemed a little strained.
"Tim's a kid, in Cliff's care-group," she explained.
"No," I answered, then quickly changing what I'd said. "Oh yes, wait a minute… that must be the kid Cliff asked to bring my luggage up. But he's gone now. I… don't know where he is."
I hoped I hadn't sounded too devious or nervous I never ‘was a' very good liar.
"What's a ‘care-group,' anyway?" I asked welcoming a chance to change the subject. "Isn't that the word you used?"
"Yes," explained Kate. "That's what we call ‘the group of kids assigned to each teacher here at Brightwater. You'll be getting your care-group yourself. It's sort of like a home-room class in a public school. Only it's much more personal. You know, you get to know the kids better, and you're responsible for them in a more all-inclusive way than simply concern about their academic progress. It's a great system. I dig it."
When Kate left, giving me a friendly wave and saying we would have to get together soon, I was both relieved and disappointed. Relieved that I'd finally gotten rid of her without having the boys discovered, in my room, and disappointed that I bad lacked the opportunity to talk longer with her. She seemed like a really nice girl and I was sure that we were going to get along swell as fellow teachers. It was obvious that she was no stick-in-the-mud.
When I opened the bathroom door the boys had all their clothes on. I told them they'd have to leave pronto, but first I wanted to check the hall to make sure no one saw the two of them sneaking out of my room.
"Who's going to sneak?" posed Tim.
"Yeah," parroted Petey, "who's gonna sneak out?"
"It's no big deal for us to be here, Teach," Tim continued. "You think this is the only time we've ever been in a teacher's room? Ha, what a laugh!"
"I'm more than just a teacher," I reminded them. "I'm a female teacher. And a brand-new one at that. If you'd been in some male teacher's room it would be entirely different."
"You don't have to remind us you're female," Tim cracked, a big smile on his face.
"Not hardly," chirped Petey. "Not after-"
"Just keep your traps shut," I scolded, feeling myself start to get red in the face. "And if r ever hear of either one of you repeating what happened here, I'll… I'll… "
I couldn't think of anything for a proper threat, so I ended by warning them, "You'd just better not, that's all!"
Even though they wore halfway through the door way, Tim was still blabbing.
"You mean you didn't like it?" he accused incredulously. "You're never gonna make us believe that. Right, Petey?"
"Right!" exclaimed his partner in crime.
"What… what took place here this afternoon was… was something very unusual," I stammered. "… Something that'll never happen again, I can assure you. Just remember that, and see that you don't mention it again. Understood?"
"Okay, okay," they nodded.
But just before I closed the door behind them Tim flung a parting shot. "Better watch what you're doing, Teach," he snickered, pointing to my chest. "Looks like something's trying to get out of there. And if it does, you just might get all hot and bothered again-especially if-"
"Goodbye!" I said, closing the door behind them with finality and breathing a sigh of relief.
I looked down at the front of my robe and sure enough, one of my boobs had somehow become bared all the way to the point. A nipple was peeping out from the folds, in plain view of whoever might have been, there to see it.
I tugged it closer and thought of the view I'd accidentally given the two boys. They had seen plenty of me, for sure, and hardly needed more in fact, they had seen (and done!) more than enough to get me fired from any normal school!
I went ahead, unpacking and musing over everything that had happened. I could only hope and pray that Brightwater was as liberal and open-minded as I had been made to think. If, not, I was going to be in big trouble.
I took a long, luxurious bath after setting my room straight, then went to bed very early. But I must say I didn't go to sleep as quickly as unusual. There was one main fact I had been avoiding… a fact that I could not help but dwell on with increasing intensity and shame. I, a 25-year-old grown woman, bad just allowed myself to be roundly fucked and sucked by boys only twelve and fourteen years old. They were barely more than children!
What did this mean about me? I would never in my life have imagined myself allowing such a disgusting thing to happen to me. Did what had taken place mean I was, for some unexplained reason, turning into a sex freak of the filthiest kind-a woman who got her kicks by seducing kids less than half her age? Of course, I tried to argue to myself, I hadn't exactly seduced them. It was quite the other way around. But even so, I had to admit that I bad participated, once aroused, with the greatest gusto.
Besides, there bad been the night below my window, the woman and, boy going at it in the bushes when I had first entered the room. It had made me so hot I had to get on my knees and masturbate right on the spot. Surely that had something to do with my letting myself get involved with Tim and Petey, didn't it? Well, it would never happen again, I consoled myself. It had been one of those one-of-a-kind incidents that occurs in every girl's life. When she suddenly finds herself with panties so hot shell do anything for relief.
It would never happen again, I ‘repeated to myself as I fell asleep. Yet in my dreams that night, I saw young adolescents with their pants open and their little organs sticking out… kids as young as Petey and even younger… mere children with hard little cocks as stiff and straight bones.
And the woman in my dreams who fingered those childish cocks, who jacked them off and played with them, and sucked "them and sucked them until their fat little heads shot off like milky fountains,… that woman had been me.
Me and me alone in the morning I found myself so wet and hot in the pussy I had to masturbate before I dared get up from bed. I was so horny that if I hadn't brought myself off I would have been tense and nervous all day.
But when I did it, I thought of one of my old boy friends, a manly guy with a hairy chest and a big cock that reamed me out like a roto-rooter. I consciously avoided any thoughts of younger men or kids… of anything the least bit immature.
I dressed and hurried to the first faculty meeting. It was extremely informal and quite abort, leaving me with the general impression that I was very much on my own in dealing with my "caregroup," which would be assigned to me the next day. I was told by the Headmaster, a Mr. Ian Carmichael, that my acceptance as a teacher at Brightwater meant that I was automatically credited with being sensible and creative enough to see that my students received proper instruction in the various subjects they were expected to absorb, and that my methods and day-to-day teaching plan would be almost entirely up to my own idea of what was best.
Mr. Carmichael-Ian-was an ancient soul, seventy or more, who insisted on being called simply by his first name. He left early, and the rest of the meeting was scarcely more than an introduction to the other teachers. There were no more than ten in the entire school, which was plenty since the student body was composed of only about seventy or eighty' students, who ranged from six to seventeen. Most of the kids attending were in the lower and middle age groups, with only a few over fifteen.
I saw Cliff again, the teacher who ‘had helped me have my baggage moved in, of course. And I saw Kate, who was as friendly as ever. Two others who seemed especially nice to me were Carrie Simons, a striking brunette only a couple of years older than me, and Percy Chileott, a rather effeminate man in his early forties. Cliff, a good-looking man if greying hair and a chiseled features turn you on, seemed to be giving me the eye quite a bit. It made me feel good to have his attention, but I didn't respond openly.