Community Involvement Ch. 04

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The sound of the alarm the following morning tore me away from a dream world full of Michelle. My aching, hard penis was testament to the effect she had on me. I casually stroked it as I lay there in the first glimmer of day light that came through the large glass floor to ceiling windows and doors that looked onto our upstairs balcony, the gossamer white curtains, softening the light. I thought of Michelle's bra encased breast filling my hand the day before as kissed farewell, the heat of her body pressed firmly to mine and the firmness of her fingers caressing my back as we embraced.

"Oh well, on with the day." I thought to myself, shuffling my way toward the shower.

This day, however, was not going to be a typical day for me. It was going to start in the usual fashion; make the breakfasts and prepare the troops for their individual days and get them to their respective drop-off points, but then there was the meeting to get through. A meeting conceived and arranged without my involvement, to be hosted by someone I had not meet, and the outcome of which I had no idea about. Sure, I knew what Michelle expected, but my gut feeling was telling me to approach it with an open mind, to hear what Clare had to say and to take my time before making any commitments.

Fortunately, I had time, following the morning drop offs, to return home and dress appropriately. I had originally dressed as if for a normal day to save any tricky questions but now I had to get a move on, the morning traffic had robbed me of some time that would have otherwise been spare. After much indecision, I finally selected a plain white fitted shirt with dark navy jeans and a tailored black jacket with a fine white pin stripe. I looked in the mirror and felt happy with the look, the shirt and jeans comfortably snug to show the athletic shape of my slim body.

"Why all the fuss?" I asked myself. I had no answer, other than it was a habit when getting ready to meet a client, especially for the first time. You only got one chance at a first impression as they say.

I arrived at the school gate twenty minutes early, not being one for lateness. I parked near the main entrance and decided to go straight in, figuring by the time I went to reception and signed in and a message passed to Clare about my arrival, it would be close to the arranged timing. The grounds were large compared to most government schools, as you would expect from a private Catholic school. The sports field off to the right of the main drive were immaculately green but still showed signs of the rugby games played over the weekend. The main building was a huge red brick and sandstone building in the Italian-Gothic style with a smaller, but equally beautifully styled, chapel behind. I entered the main door, an imposing double door with intricate lead light glass inserts, and walked along the long Persian style hallway runner to the modern looking front desk. I noted with delight, the high ornate ceiling, above the hall and the delicate use of colour, in the federation style, on the walls and cornices. The receptionist, a plump efficient looking woman of middle age, directed me to sign the visitors' book with a wave of her fleshy arm. Just as I was about to take a seat on the large dark brown leather sofa, she called a senior boy who was walking past and asked him to take me to the music centre. I could tell he was not too happy about the request and I lowered my eyes to hide my amusement, knowing that I would have reacted in exactly the same way at his age. It's strange how the more things change, the more they stay the same.

I followed him through numerous hallways, admiring the decor, and then across a large quadrangle area with a huge sun shade above. There were two basketball courts marked on the ground and a number of handball areas as well. I smiled to myself, reflecting that when I went to school we had to use chalk to draw our own handball courts. I asked my guide a few questions about the school but got little response so we spent the bulk of the journey in respective silence. At the top of a flight of stairs he stopped and pointed.

"If you go down these stairs and turn right you will see the music departments' main entrance right in front of you."

I thanked him for his help and stopped for a moment to get my bearings. The music building was newer than those of the main building, its pale golden brick work reflecting the seventies period of architecture and design. It was only a single story construction but it spread out over an area close to two football fields in size. All was quiet as I stood there, taking in various landmarks so I could navigate my way out.

"Let's get this show on the road." I said quietly as I descended the steps.

I greeted the music department receptionist and told her I had a meeting with Clare and apologised as I had only been given her Christian name. The receptionist was a small framed woman with a skin colouring that told me she was probably of Italian heritage, with black hair and the dark Mediterranean features of the South. She indicated for me to take a seat and said that Clare would be with me shortly. Again, just as I was about to be seated, the receptionist apologised and told me to go through into Clare's office, which was off to the left of her desk.

I knocked as I reached the open door. The room went off to the right of the door and was narrow but long, with windows along the left hand side as I looked into the room. Some of the curtains across from the door were pulled back to reveal an outlook on to a beautiful rose garden that showed every sign of being lovingly kept. The desk was at the far end of the room with a head studiously bent over some papers and indicating, with a wave of a hand, that I was to enter. The floor along the left hand wall of her office was awash with a variety of instruments, from guitars and violins to woodwinds and brass, together with numerous pieces of sheet music. This reminded me of the shemozzle that was the music masters office at my sons' high school. I wondered if Clare had a similar management style to him as well. He was a chaos generator in the name of creativity and building the future of the department but leaving the delivery up to the staff; time would tell.

Taking a seat in front of her desk and a little to Clare's right, I waited for her to finish what she was doing. Her dark brown hair was tied back in a bun, so it was difficult at this stage to guess just how long her hair was. Her skin looked pale white against the darkness of her hair and the black jacket she wore. From this vantage point that was all I could determine and see of her, so my mind went wandering and images of Michelle crept in.

"Sorry about that." Clare's voice jerked me back to reality with a start. "You must be Ray."

"You must be Ms........"

"Clare is fine." She interjected, rising from her seated position and offering her hand.

We shook hands in greeting and exchanged a few pleasantries. Clare was a tall woman, at least six foot, depending on the size of any heels she might have had on. Her jacket was short, black and tailored, finishing at her hips with a small ruffle. Under the jacket she had a pale blue simply styled blouse which tucked into the waist band of a black hip hugging skirt that finished mid-thigh. Around her waist she wore a belt the same colour as her blouse. The first impression was quite eye catching; professional looking outfit and grooming, a person that emanated a certain sense of presence and appeared to have an air of confidence. Her sense of presence was reinforced by her height, not doubt, but her smile was warm and welcoming, and made even more appealing because of her crystal blue, twinkling eyes. Her shoulders were not too broad, but broad enough to give increased angle to the triangular configuration as her torso tapered in to her tiny waist and filled out to rounded hips; an hour glass figure if ever I had seen one. Her blouse was unbuttoned to that delicate degree of decency, just in line with what could be guessed to be nipple level. I noted that the button hole was showing some signs of strain as the material stretched across of her eye popping chest.

"She's packing a pair of 38's!" I mused to myself, recalling a school boy joke which was a parody of the old gangster movies. "I wish I could take private lessons from her."

"Michelle tells me you're a photographer and could do the photography and video work we need for our music tour?" Her voice was gentle and soft, not unlike a teacher of young children, but there was a sense of purpose in it as well.

"Yes." I answered, trying to guess an age bracket for her, no more than mid to late 30's surely, not that it would have changed my opinion of her. She was stunning and would not have looked out of place in movies from the 50's and 60's. I went on to explain my previous experience of the music tours with my son's school and my role both during and after each. She nodded and made notes while listening and asked the occasional question.

"I guess you fit the bill to a tee. I would like to see what you did regarding the DVD at some stage?" Making a final entry on her notepad. "Michelle certainly spoke highly of you."

"That was very nice of her. I think she would be excellent with the boys on tour." I said, feeling the warmth of my blushing cheeks rising and trying to talk up Michelle's application into the bargain. "We are neighbours........"

"So she said. From the way she spoke though, I go the impression that you were her partner." Clare interrupted. Her soft blue eyes fell upon me and it felt as if she could see my every thought. I shifted in my seat a little uncomfortably but returned her look.

"I could get the DVD to you through Michelle, if that is okay?" I suggested, hoping to avoid making any comment about being Michelle's partner. Clare nodded, it seemed she had something important to relate which gave me the impression she was going to leave that topic open.

"Before we go much further, I have to tell you the dates have changed. Is that going to cause you to reconsider?"

"It all depends on what the new dates are."

"As you can imagine from your previous experience, these things take a lot of planning and organising, and due to some glitches, I have had to push the timing back to the September school holidays. Michelle was not aware of this when she asked you." Clare wet her lips with the tip of her tongue before continuing. "I now have a firm commitment of the dates for all the performances, all the venues and all the accommodation, so now I can start finalising head count numbers for the students and the teachers as well as accompanying parents and carers."

"How many people are you expecting to go?"

"I will get to that at our next meeting."

She stood up and walked around her desk. She carried her body with an air of a person in charge of the situation. I found it difficult to get a read on her, partly because it was our first meeting, and partly because I was secretly undressing her sensational body. As she started to speak again, she sat on the edge on her desk just to my right. Her long legs protruding from the hem of her black skirt which was snuggly wrapped about her milk white thighs. I noticed that her heels were only small, thereby supporting my original assessment that she was a tall one.

"The change in timing is better for the school curriculum as well." She continued, crossing her left leg over her right. "It also means we miss the extreme heat over there, which is good all around, but on a personal note, it is good for me. I am not a summer person and I am not one who can take too much sun, as you can see."

"Yes, I......"

"I thought you had noticed." She said, cutting me off mid-sentence (thankfully) and then crossed her right leg over her left. I looked them up and down, admiring the slight muscle contours of her calves and the narrowness of her ankles.

I shifted position again, trying to hide my discomfort which was mixed with a sense of growing sexual intrigue. My throat was dry at the nearness of her commanding presence and I had to stifle a cough before speaking.

"You certainly do attract attention," I agreed, trying to sound equally assertive, before adding, "September is good for me too."

"That is pleasing to hear." Her legs unfolded as she turned her upper body to retrieve her notes. "Will I put you down as a possible, a probable or a definite starter then?"

She had turned to get her notepad which was still on her blotter but her pen slipped off, moving it further away as she lifted it. She rolled a bit more onto her right hip to retrieve it which caused her legs to part slightly. I could not see far up her skirt, but her thighs looked equally milky white as her calves; smooth and inviting. I heard her catch her breath lightly as she lifted herself upright drawing my attention away from her lovely legs. It was not until she was fully upright that I realised what had caused her to gasp.

"Damn." She exclaimed aloud, looking down at me. "My button has broken off."

Clare held her blouse closed where the button had been, the button at nipple level I noted, but as she told me of her mishap, she flapped it open, exposing her deep cleavage and the inner sides of her lacy white bra cups.

"I might have some sewing equipment with me." I replied impressed with myself that I had a prompt and suggestive reply at the ready, even though it was a lie.

"What am I to do?" She asked, moving her blouse opening from side to side.

"I think I have a solution?" I forwarded, throwing caution to the wind. My hand went to her knee and started to move along the soft, warm curve of her thigh. Clare stopped and stared at me without making any comment. Her right leg was out stretched, with the foot flat on the floor and her left slightly bent at the knee with her left foot hooked behind her right ankle. Her knees were slightly parted, giving me just enough room to insert my hand and move it north.

"What sort of needle would you recommend for such a situation as this?"

"If you could close the door we might be able to ............" I left the sentence unfinished. Instead, I moved my hand further up under her skirt. Clare stopped my progress her by placing her hand on top of mine through her skirt. Just as she was about to say something her phone buzzed, it was the receptionist using the intercom.

"Hi Clare, I am going up to the middle school assembly and then I will go straight to the post office as we discussed. I will close the front door and put the unattended sign up for you."

"Thanks, Darcia, that's excellent. Oh, looks like we have the green light for September."

Darcia closed the intercom connection by simply hanging up her phone which meant Clare did not have to move. Her hand was still holding mine in position on her thigh through the material of her skirt.

"I can't stand going to assembly. It's too boring." Her tone was full of annoyance toward the idea of attending any of the weekly gatherings of the school body. My attention was directed toward furthering my education with some one-on-one tuition with the head of the music department (and the rest of her body).

I pushed my hand higher. Clare removed her blockade and placed both of her hands on her desk for support as she leaned back.

"Now, what sort of needle were you going to recommend?"

My hand reached the crease of her hip, her skirt gathering up around my arm. The heat being generated under her skirt was intense and only increased as I pressed my fingertips into the fold of her hip and her underwear, slowly trying to manoeuvre them lower, like the ancient adventurer Jason, in search of her fleece, golden or otherwise.

Clare shifted her position a little and parted her thighs some more giving me greater access. I stood to get better leverage and to answer her question, minus any words.

I quickly unbuckled my belt and fumbled my way to finally get my jeans undone. I pushed them down with my free hand unwilling to remove my right hand from its warm position at the top of womanhood. Clare kept her position, her eyes glued to my crotch.

"Is this an adequate needle, do you think?" I said pulling my underwear down to my knees along with my jeans.

"It's a lot thicker than I expected." She purred, admiring the view. "Michelle said you were well credentialed but I could not have guessed just how well. Has Michelle seen it? Is that why she was able to recommend you so highly?"

I chose to ignore her questions regarding Michelle but it did raise a question(s) of just what had Michelle and Clare talked about? Was Clare simply playing word games with me or did they actually discuss my 'credentials' (physical or otherwise) together?

"Now that IS being big headed and egotistical." I thought to myself.

"I am not sure how to thread such a thing. I hope you can manage." She smiled with her eyes, the smouldering look on her face imploring me to continue. Clare rocked her hips from side to side, roughly pulling her skirt up from under her rounded bottom.

"That might help a little." She said, parting her thighs now that they were free of the restrictions of her tight skirt. I ploughed my thumb hard into her cleft. It was instantly engulfed with her searing heat and a flood of her copious juices oozing through the crotch of her panties.

I moved closer to her right side and pulled hard at the waist band of her knickers. Clare moved her hand and grabbed my hard cock that was resting on her hip.

"That is a good needle you have there." She murmured, stroking the length of my shaft. My thumb ground into her soaking hole, through her underwear, drawing more of her flow through the material.

"Do you need some help with those?" she asked.

With her left hand, she quickly removed the waist band of her knickers from her hips. Then, letting my cock flop onto her desk, she wiggled her bottom and finally removed the garment from her lower body. She leaned back on her arms and spread her long legs wide.

I dropped to my knees and slammed my face into her dripping crotch. Her pussy was bare, not a hair in sight, and her mound was soft and slippery against my cheeks. I pulled her to me and placed my mouth over her pussy and sucked hard which made her shiver. She gripped the back of my head and shoved it to her pussy, fucking herself with my face. I speared my tongue as she thrust, stabbing it as deep as I could into her literally leaking vagina. Each time my face hit against her crotch she bucked forward and groaned aloud. She was getting wilder with each touch of my tongue inside her ribbed channel, my nose crashing into her throbbing clitoris. Both her hands wrapped into my hair as I lapped up as much of the river of juices pouring from her as I could. She was building toward a shattering climax and I was determined to join her.

"How do you want me?" she panted.

"Stay on your desk," I commanded, pushing the chair out of way the with my foot.

I stood and stroked my cock in front of her fixated eyes.

"I think it's time to thread this needle." I said in a voice slick with her sexy flow.

She nodded and arched her hips. I marvelled as her gorgeous legs rose and started to wrap around my hips. It felt like every centimetre of her skin was equally as soft and warm. Her calves on my back and the press of her thighs on my hips drawing me forward as I put the purple head of my cock at the entrance to her pussy. I pressed downward, easing the thick knob lower until it rested against her rear entrance. Clare jiggled her arse, groaning with pent up passion to be fucked. Slowly, I gouged the thick head upward, parting her gripping puffy lips and crushing her clitoris with the blind eye at the tip.