Our time was now, p.27
Our Time Was Now, page 27
As for Conner, he spent each class period sitting as his desk, doing his best to get some yearbook work done and not be distracted by the dizzying array of flesh all around him. The costume days were somehow even harder. Nudity was at least in some ways natural, but the whorish outfits they’d rustled up for his class were impossible to read as anything but advertisements for their sexuality.
That day was such a day. Lauren, for instance, had changed into a pair of sparkly plastic shorts, obscenely brief and tight, and a cut-off t-shirt so brief it left her nipples exposed if she didn’t tug it down every time she moved her arms. Which she didn’t. Most days in the week and a half since he’d taken over, the girl amused herself by doodling on the board; today, apparently, she felt like chatting.
“So, what’s getting you down, Mr. Fishers? Wanna talk about it?”
He arched an eyebrow. “With you?” Lauren had always been nice to him, but they were a far cry from friends. He’d been invited to her birthday party in first and second grade, but that was as close as they’d ever been.
“Sure. Why not me?”
He couldn’t help but smile at her plainspoken offer. “Thanks, but I’m not sure I could explain it all if I tried. Lots going on, I guess.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I hear that. Still, ya know, I’d be happy to try to help, if you want. A while back, we learned how to–”
He held up a hand. “Please, I definitely don’t need a blowjob. Thanks, though.”
Lauren arched a neatly sculpted brow. “I was about to say how to give massages, but way to assume I can’t wait to get your cock in my mouth.” She batted at his arm playfully.
“Oh. Sorry, just…”
“Yeah, I know. These girls are like babies needing pacifiers with those things. Anyway. So…?”
“So… what? You mean, a massage? No, I’m really OK.”
“Come on, I’m good at it. Really. You’ll feel better. And it beats sitting here doing nothing all period again, right? Not your fault Mr. Lyons didn’t leave you anything to do.”
Four or five increasingly feeble protests later, Conner found himself laying down on a padded massage table the girls kept folded up behind the changing screen, his face looking at the cold tile floor through a window in the surface.
“Wanna take off your shirt? I can do it with it on, but it’s a lot better without it. Your call.”
“Shirt on,” he said quickly. He would not let this massage snowball into something else.
“Suit yourself.”
A few times over the years, Conner had found himself in the happy position of having someone give him a backrub, and each time it had been delightful. Not because the girl in question had been especially skilled, of course, but because it had been a girl, any girl, touching him, and because backrubs were relatively hard to screw up. For the first time, he was receiving the treatment from someone who had an actual idea of what she was doing.
He had to say, the distinction was profound.
Lauren found muscles he hadn’t known he’d had, hadn’t known how much tension they’d been carrying, and targeted them with laser precision and dogged firmness. By the time she asked again if she could persuade him to remove his shirt, he did so without even thinking twice. She knew what she was doing, and he’d be damned if he was going to stop her. Before long, he could see the toes of multiple girls gathered around the table, though Lauren shooed them away from doing… whatever these girls might think to do. They stayed close, though, he was sure of that, yet he couldn’t be bothered to care about having an audience. Once upon a time, Conner would have had a of panic attack being half-naked and surrounded by girls like these, but that Conner was long gone. This one was lying here wondering where they’d been hiding that fragrant oil that the captain of the volleyball team was now rubbing over every inch of his skin.
He didn’t realize how eager his erection had grown until she climbed on top of him and mashed it into the table. Thank goodness for that padding.
Lauren didn’t warn him first; one moment she was grinding an elbow into his shoulders, and the next, her weight was pressing down on him. Neither said a word; it seemed to simply be part of the act for her, nothing more than a better way to apply pressure where needed. As she bent down to rub up and down his arms, her mostly bare breasts lay firm against his back, and though he’d seen them dozens of times by now, the feel of them was something else, and immediately he found himself missing the sight.
As the five-minute mark arrived and the girls began to dress themselves for third period, it was that precise thought that he was only half-realizing. So naturally when she asked if tomorrow, he’d like her to do his front, he agreed without a second’s hesitation.
Conner saw Lauren several times that day. Once in the halls, again the cafeteria, and she delivered a packet of papers to Mrs. Brantley during her period as an office aide. She acted like nothing was weird, except when she caught him staring at her next to Mrs. Brantley’s desk. Then, her only reaction was to give him a soft smile and depart without a word. Whatever had happened that morning, she didn’t treat him like he was anyone but the same old Conner Fishers.
Maybe he hadn’t taken advantage of her after all. Maybe it was a platonic thing that simply happened to occur with the pair being three quarters naked on account of unrelated and incidental happenings.
Maybe she was still grateful for the Hannah Montana CD he’d gotten her in second grade.
In any case, the next day she reminded him of her offer to do the front, and he acquiesced almost immediately. She said nothing of his erection throbbing in his jeans, not even when she once more joined him on the table, its length nestled in that blessed space between her naked thighs.
The day after she did the front again, only this time they were both completely naked. And that time, he fucked her.
“Hey, sorry about the other day,” Lauren said the following Monday as she finished stuffing her clothes in her purse. “I hope you’re not mad or anything.”
“Wait, you’re apologizing to me?” Conner sputtered, his own apology having been preempted. “How could I possibly be mad at you?”
She smiled. “Good. We kind of have an unspoken policy not to talk sex ed outside of class. Just… super weird, you know? Nobody would feel comfortable sharing or experimenting if that stuff was going to become public.”
He blinked. “Are you talking about when I tried to talk to you in the hallway?”
“Uh, yeah. Why, what’d you think I meant?”
“I meant where I made you have sex with me!”
“Made me… what? Conner, I’ve been trying to get you to have sex with me for like two weeks now.” She laughed, then laughed harder. Nearby, more than a few girls laughed along at this apparently absurd notion. “I’m sorry, it’s just… we had sex, and you thought…” She shook her head, fighting down still more laughter. “Didn’t you have fun?”
“Sure I did! I mean, a lot of fun, actually, but…”
“But…?” she prompted when he failed to articulate an objection.
“But I’m, um, your teacher. I was taking advantage.”
“Wait, you think… you forced yourself on me? Is that it?” She looked stupefied by this notion.
“Of course I did! Someone made you take this class, made you do what the teacher tells you! Someone made you all get naked and learn how to dance and strip and massage and… and fuck! Then here I come and right off I’m taking advantage of the position you were forced into. It was wrong.”
“Oh, Mr. Fishers,” Lauren said, voice oozing sympathy. Most of the class was watching now, intrigued by their teacher’s outburst. She sunk into his lap, stroked his hair. Conner tried to push her hand away, but she persisted. “You’re right – about some of it. It’s super lame they made us all re-take sex ed, and I guess some of our class policies are a little… ya know. Out there. But that doesn’t mean you did something wrong.”
“Lauren, I–”
But the volleyball captain had some experience in talking over people when she needed to flex her leadership muscles, and she could do it without even raising her voice. “Before I took this class, I’d never had sex with anyone. I’d jerked off my ex-boyfriend, thought it was gross, and hadn’t gone any further than that. I was probably gonna wait until marriage – or tell myself that I was, and then eventually get drunk and hook up with some rando in college. But know what I learned in this class?”
“What?”
“I learned that I really, really like sex.” She paused, but Conner didn’t know what to say to that, so she went on. “In hindsight, I can’t believe I was waiting. Not that I’m a slut or anything, but like, what’s wrong with two people having sex if they both have fun?”
Mary Buchanan sneered. “There’s a lot wrong with it. Pleasures of the flesh are still against the will of god, even if they’re… you know.”
“Pleasures of the flesh?” said Yuri with a smirk. Mary only gave her a dirty look before clasping her cross pendant – the only thing she wore – and murmuring a brief prayer.
Lauren shook her head. “I’m not getting into the Christian stuff, but I’m not really religious, and I don’t see the problem. I like sex, I’m in a place where I can do it safely and privately, and… well, you have the only cock in the room, Mr. Fishers.”
“And the only reason I’m the ‘only cock in the room’ is because someone locked you in here with me,” he insisted.
“What, so like, you feel guilty or something?”
“Exactly!”
Lauren flicked him in the forehead and giggled at his reaction. “Well stop it. I get it, you’re in sex ed with a bunch of cute girls. Sure. But hey, some people are born to rich families, some people ace a test with lucky guesses… Hell, my own brother has this thing in his genes where he doesn’t get itchy from mosquito bites. You got to teach sex ed. Maybe someone else made it happen, but don’t feel like you’re in the wrong just for being lucky.”
“Lauren…”
“I liked having sex with you. Did you like having sex with me?”
Of course he had. His memory had made a permanent file for sightings of Lauren’s ass in her volleyball shorts years ago, and the real, naked, jiggling thing was even better. “I… um…”
“I didn’t hear a yes, and I’m about to be kind of offended,” she said, but she was smiling.
“Well yes, I did, but–”
“So whatever’s making you feel bad, get over it! Whatever brought us all here, everybody enjoyed it and nobody minded!”
“I minded,” said a girl’s voice. Lauren and Conner both scanned for the source and soon found it in the reproachful countenance of Sydney Genovese.
“Syd…?”
“Mr. Fishers, you used to check me out, all the time. Remember? Like, back in eighth grade, or maybe seventh, we had the same gym class and I swear, you and Luis probably lost twenty pounds between the two of you running right behind me, every day. Remember?”
He’d forgotten, actually, until that moment, but as the class snickered over the accusation, she went on. “Then you show up as my sex ed teacher, and you don’t even try to fuck me? You didn’t even touch my butt or anything. No offense, Lauren – I’m only saying, there are other asses in this class.”
“Oh. Um… I’m sorry…?” Conner said reflexively.
But Sydney only glowered. After his inaction only threatened to continue, Lauren whispered in his ear. “I think she wants you to… you know.”
This could not be happening. Lauren, insisting he was being silly not to take advantage of his position. Sydney, glaring at him because he wasn’t being a pig. Then again, he remembered Heather, complaining how he’d never so much as asked to fuck her legendary tits; Kristy, chastising him for not having more developed fantasies of his teacher; Amanda, practically enraged that he’d seen her only as a colleague and not a potential sexual partner.
“Sydney… can I see it?”
She folded her arms across her chest and refused to look at him. “You’ve seen it, like, a hundred times now. You just didn’t care.”
“No! I mean, well, yes, I saw it, but like, I was trying not to look. This is my first time teaching sex ed, or whatever this is, and I was trying not to make you uncomfortable.”
“I took off all my clothes, and you took that as a sign that I didn’t want you to look at me?”
“I’m sorry, OK?” Somewhere inside him, the eighth, or maybe seventh, grader who’d pretended to be mad at Luis for making him jog behind the petite blonde, watching her pony tail shimmy in time with her butt cheeks, was indeed sorry. Albeit for different reasons. “Come here and let me check it out, OK?”
She frowned, but he thought the frown lessened as she finally strode over to him, turning away and thrusting her butt back at him for inspection. It really was a glorious thing, tight and perky and all muscle, a dark-colored slit just visible between the cleft. “Wow,” he said after a moment. He’d meant to simply humor her, but once he got to staring, it was actually pretty hard to look away. “That is one amazing ass, Syd. Seriously.”
“You don’t have to tell me, I’m the one who ran cross country the past seven years to sculpt the damn thing,” she said, but she was smiling now, if barely.
“You know it’s all right to touch us, right? This is sex ed, Mr. Fishers,” instructed Lauren. When Conner did nothing, she took his hand and, with far less resistance than he felt like he should have mustered, placed it right on Sydney’s taut bottom. She surprised him by squirming deeper into his grip. It was insane how toned it was. Kristy jogged four or five days a week and her ass was nothing like this.
“Nice, right?” Sydney said, somewhat smug.
“Wow. Yeah. So nice.”
“You see, Mr. Fishers?” Lauren said. “You need to ditch those inhibitions if you’re going to be a good teacher. Or at least, if you want to have any fun with your job.”
“I… I…” Conner stammered, tongue-tied by the ass in his hand and the ass in his lap.
“Girls – how many of you were offended Mr. Fishers didn’t try to have sex with you?”
Numerous hands flew up. Sydney’s. Then came Stacy, Abby, Neveah. Kirsten, of course. She’d broken up with Owen out of the blue less than a week ago and she was nonetheless offended her ex’s best friend wasn’t trying to fuck her. That ego was unparalleled. Olivia’s hand went up on a quarter second delay behind Kirsten’s. Then other hands came up, more timidly. Jennica, Stephanie, Courtney, Ashley. Soon, all but a few hands were up, and those seemed to correspond to girls he’d seen nodding to Mary’s anti-sex outburst earlier.
“So, are you gonna teach us or what?”
Chapter Twelve
Looking back, I can’t even imagine where the time went. My calendar says that finals were four days ago, but I can’t convince my brain that it wasn’t four years ago. Remember spring break? Who could forget that? That was actually two months ago, not a lifetime, like it feels. Going through the day to day could feel like such a slog, but now all I can wonder is where all the time went.
Just like that, it’s over.
“Hey, Amanda, what would you think about swapping the order on the homecoming parade and career day? I was thinking the homecoming parade would make more sense next to the… Oh. Um… I take it you don’t like it.”
“I’ve never been dumped before, OK? Now I’m locked in a room for an hour a day with the guy who did it, so I’m allowed to angry cry once in a while.”
“Oh. Yeah, I know this is kind of awkward and all.”
“Ya don’t say.”
“Look, I just want you to know–”
“Switch ‘em. Anything else?”
“Uh, no. I think that’s it.”
“Good.”
Five days later
“Say, could you hand me the–”
“Get it yourself, then shove it up your ass. Unless you’ve got one of your little sex ed sluts filling it already.”
“Come on, don’t be like that. This–”
“This wasn’t your idea. I know. You’ve only said it like a thousand times. And I believe you. Which only makes you all the more pathetic for not coming up with the idea for yourself, since you were going to fuck everyone who’s not nailed down anyway.”
“I’ll get it myself.”
“Peachy.”
One week later
“What is it this time?”
“Sorry – I’m heading out, the office is yours. I just wanted to say you look really nice today, Amanda.”
“I look really nice every day, asshole. Say, maybe you should enroll me in your little class so you can see just how nice? Wouldn’t that be swell, sucking your dick for B+’s! Your magnanimity is unparalleled!”
“I’ll leave you to it then.”
Twelve days later
“Hey, you two. Either of my editors-in-chief have the final sales tally?”
“Yeah, Miss C. Total yearbook sales this year: 1,488. That’s market saturation of just over 72%.”
“What? That can’t be right.”
“Maybe it’s too soon to spoil the surprise, but what the heck. Us girls got together while you boys were distracted by the sportball contest and stole math and the ability to change tires all by ourselves. Brace yourself for the collapse of the patriarchy.”
“No, I only mean… last year, we only sold eight hundred and change, and that was our best year ever. Are you sure?”
“Let me see… hmm, one plus one, plus one, carry the one, plus one, plus another one…”
“We get it, Ms. Carpenter. You two should be so proud! Not only did you put together the best annual Northside has ever had, but better yet, more students than ever are going to take it with them. I knew you two were savants the moment I laid eyes on you, but this… I’m blown away, seriously.”
“Same. You know, I never could have done this on my own.”
“I know it.”
“Thank you, I guess is what I meant to say. You did an amazing job.”
