History With Miss Martin

We walked down the short corridor to the lounge room, where we found my dad and Mr Weston talking and laughing together, and as we walked in, I saw my father doing a cartoon double-take when he saw Miss Martin.

"This is Katy Martin," I heard Mr Weston saying, to my dad, "She's from the United States, on a teacher exchange program. She'll be here for three months, and we had the back shack vacant, so she's staying in there with us for the duration." My dad shook hands with her, and as Miss Martin stepped back across the room, I saw my dad's eyes go straight to her crotch, for moment. I couldn't really blame him, but he was so obvious about it, I felt a little embarrassed.

The four of us stood there for few minutes, as Mr Weston explained to my dad about how Miss Martin came to be here, and how he was a co-ordinator on the program, and my dad asked her a few questions about her own country, and she told him how I was in her history class at school, and that's why we knew each other. Then, she said, "Look, I think I'll go out and get the barbeque going, and Justin here can help me." She looked at me, and said, "We were having a very interesting conversation out in the kitchen, weren't we?" She made eye contact, and smiled at me, and I mumbled, "Yeah, it was pretty interesting." I couldn't help smiling, though.

I followed Miss Martin back out to the patio, getting an eyeful of her bottom in those shorts, and we started to get the barbeque ready. My mother and Mrs Weston were already on their second bottle of white wine, and were having an earnest discussion at the outdoor dining table, and as we set up the barbeque and lit it, Miss Martin looked at me, and said, "I get the impression you would have been in for a pretty boring afternoon if I wasn't here. Am I right?"

"Pretty much," I said, watching as she lit the burners.

"Well, you'll have me to talk to now," she said, looking up from what she was doing. I felt a little swell of excitement to think that this gorgeous woman seemed interested in talking to me, and she added, "That essay you did, that was pretty darn good, but getting a word out of you is like pulling teeth. Are you always like this?"

"Umm, most of the time," I answered, honestly, "Until I get to know people."

She gave her head one shake, and said, "That day at school, when I was about to get you to stand up and talk to the class, I realised how nervous you were. Back home, we'd say you looked like a deer caught in the headlights. I don't know what you say over here, but I had to let you off the hook."

"Thanks for that, Miss Martin," I said, handing her the metal spatula.

"Please," she said, looking at me as she took it, "Call me Katy here. Miss Martin sounds soformal."

"Okay," I said, pausing and adding, "Katy." It felt so strange to call her that. I helped her to cook the steaks on the barbeque, and to bring out the salads and other stuff, while my dad, along with my mother and Mr and Mrs Weston, continued drinking beer and white wine, and then we had our lunch.

There wasn't enough room at the Weston's outdoor dining table for all of us, including Suzy and the other two boys, so Katy and I sat on two garden chairs, away from everyone else, with our plates on our laps. We talked together about all sorts of things, while the others drank and ate, and Katy asked me a few things about growing up in Australia, and she told me a little about growing up in Small Town, U.S.A. We talked a little about politics, and she told how it was exciting back home because it was an election year, and I told her a few things about Australian politics, or at least as much as I knew, as an eighteen-year old. It seemed like we discussed all sorts of things as we sat there, and we had a few laughs as well. I was really enjoying myself, talking to Katy like that, and my nerves were completely forgotten

After lunch, I helped Katy clean up, while my parents and the Weston's continued with their drinking, and we went to the lounge room to watch some afternoon television and continue talking. Now and again, I'd sneak a look at her in those denim shorts and that white T-shirt, and I'd find it hard to imagine that I was actually here with this incredibly beautiful woman, or I'd look her way, and get a lump in my throat at the mere sight of her, dressed like that, so close to me.

Later in the evening, as we sat there discussing a new movie we had both seen recently, called "Xanadu," Mr Weston came in the room, with my dad in tow. The beer was obviously getting the better of both of them by this time, and when Mr Weston had a few on board, he used to speak dramatically, and exaggerate everything. "Justin, my man," he said, as my dad stood swaying behind him, "There has been a disaster!"

I saw a look of alarm on Katy's face, but I knew it was just the way Mr Weston talked when he was tipsy, and he went on with, "We've run out of beer," announcing it with the gravity of a man saying, "There's been a terrible earthquake in Peru." He took a set of car keys from a hook on the wall, and held them out to me, saying, "I request that you chauffer your dear old papa and me to the nearest intoxatorium, so we can continue with our bacchanalian revelry. You may drive us there in my Valiant. It's time you got behind the wheel of an engineering thoroughbred for a change." I took the keys, and looked at Katy, who smiled, and said, "I think I'll come along for the ride."

We walked out to the front of Mr Weston's house, and I got in the driver's seat of his beige Valiant, and Mr Weston opened the back door, and then said to my dad, "Malcolm, my old comrade, seeing this fruit of your loins is acting as our chauffer tonight, it is only fitting that we ride in the back of this limousine." He stood back and said, "After you," letting my dad in first. They both stumbled into the back seat, and Katy climbed in the left hand front passenger seat, saying, "Looks like I get the shotgun seat." I started the engine, and my mother and Mrs Weston came around the side of the house, walking fast, but taking small steps because they too were already intoxicated, and Mrs Weston called out, "Wait for us!"

They walked to the car and Mrs Weston opened the front passenger's door, while my mother opened the back door, and they also climbed in. As Mrs Weston got in the left-hand front seat, Katy slid over to the middle of the seat, next to me, and she said, "This is cosy," giving me her bright smile as she said it. I put the car into Drive, and headed out onto the road, acutely aware of Katy sitting next to me, squeezed into the front seat of Mr Weston's Valiant.

The nearest hotel was about four miles down the road, and as I drove along with a car full of drunks, Katy giggled in my ear at the absurdity of it all. Her warm breath on the left side of my face alone was so exciting I could barely concentrate on my driving, and after I stopped outside the hotel, my parents and the Weston's piled out. "Are you coming, Katy?" Mr Weston said, but she replied with, "No thanks, I think I'll just go back and keep Justin company. You guys can ring us when you want to come home." Mr Weston leant in the driver's window, breathing his beery breath all over me, and he said, "I'll leave you to be entertained by this vision of loveliness, young man." He stepped back, slapped the roof of his car twice with the palm of his hand, and said, "I bid you adieu, adios and goodbye. We'll ring you when the premises close, or we get kicked out, which ever comes first. Now, be gone, young man, until your services are again required." I turned the car back towards his house, and off we went.

Katy had slid back over to the left hand front seat of the car, now that there were only two of us in it, but after only a few hundred yards, she giggled and said, "I feel really weird over here, like I should be driving." I chuckled at her myself, and she said, "No, I mean it. It's really strange, sitting here, where the driver normally sits in my country, but with no steering wheel to hang onto." She slid back to the centre of the bench seat, and said, "I think I'll sit here, instead." As I drove, I could feel the warmth from her body on my left side, and that lump in the throat feeling returned.

We drove into Mr Weston's driveway, and after we got out, Katy said, "Do you want to come up to the shack for a while? I've got some records you might like." In those days, or course, there were no CD's.

"Sounds good," I said, and we walked up to the old house, and Katy took me inside. The back shack was furnished quite comfortably with some of the Weston's' old furniture, and Katy went to the fridge in the shack's kitchen, and got two beers, handing one to me. "I had a little secret stash," she said, as I took it. We sat around, listening to some of her records and talking for a long while, and later on, as we both sat on the floor, resting our backs against the front of the couch, Katy said, "You surprise me."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"You seem to be able to talk about all kinds of things, but it's so hard to get you started," she said. She took a mouthful of her beer and went on with, "After this afternoon, I feel like I can talk to you about anything. You just need to work on your confidence."

"I don't know, I just get nervous sometimes," I mumbled, "but once I get to know people, it's different." I felt awkward talking about it, but she said, "Don't worry, we all get nervous sometimes."

After a little more talk, Katy said, "I got a new record the other day. I think you'll like this." She got up and looked through her records, and found a new Dire Straits record, and put it on the turntable. "This is lovely," she said, "Just listen to it," and a song I'd never heard, called, "Tunnel Of Love," started playing. We both sat there for a moment or two, listening to the sweet, longing music, and the lyrics, and Katy got up and said, "Do you want to dance with me, Justin?"

I had been feeling really at ease by then, but my nerves suddenly kicked in, and went off the scale. "I can't dance," I said, looking up at her.

"Come on," Katy said, reaching down and smiling, "It's easy, let me show you." I was so nervous, I felt my stomach drop, but I got awkwardly to my feet, and Katy said, "What's there to be nervous about, there's no-one else here to see you." I stood there, like an awkward lump, and Katy said, "I won't bite, I promise." She stepped closer, and took hold of me in the waltzing position. "Just move to the music," she said, in a soft voice, "Just hold me like this, and step in time with the music." She reached around with her left hand, and adjusted my right hand into the proper place on her back, and she said, "Move with me, Justin. Just move with the music."

Katy must have known the effect she would have on a teenage guy, dressed like that, slow-dancing around her room on our own. We danced like that for few minutes, as she patiently instructed me on how to step with the beat of the music, and another song from the same record came on. It was called "Romeo and Juliet," and it was even sweeter than the first. As I held Katy's beautiful body like that, I had a mixture of butterflies in my stomach, sheer sexual excitement, and a lump in my throat. "You're doing great," she said, softly, holding me close, swaying her body, and then she looked up at me and said, "Justin, have you ever had a girlfriend?"

"No," I said, looking down to avoid her gaze, and shaking my head, "Girls aren't really interested in me."

Katy swallowed, and said, "Don't worry, it'll happen. Trust me." She gave me the sweetest smile, and then asked, "Have you ever kissed a girl?"

The only girl I'd ever kissed was my cousin, Rhonda, who asked me to do it one time when we were both thirteen. We'd only done it once, but I didn't think that even counted, so I answered, "No," to Katy's question.

"Don't worry, that'll happen too," Katy said, as we swayed to the music in that little room in the back shack. Then, as hard as it was to believe that I was actually holding this beautiful sex goddess, alone like that, slow-dancing, swaying together with the music, she took my disbelief up another notch, and held me closer, resting her head on my chest as we danced.

I felt like I was dreaming, but it was true. I was holding a woman, and not just any woman, but a heart-stoppingly beautiful woman, and she was resting her head on me, as though she liked it as much as I did. I had to swallow, as I got that feeling you get as the roller-coaster drops, and you lose touch with gravity for a moment. Then, even more incredibly, Katy looked up and kissed me on the mouth. This was my first real kiss, forget all about Rhonda, this was thefirst timeI had ever kissed a woman. I felt like I was about to explode.

We held the kiss for a brief, exciting moment, and then Katy seemed to come to her senses, and after the kiss, she stiffened, although we were still holding each other. "I'm sorry," she said, loosening her hold on me, but not letting go, and adding, "I'm sorry, Justin." Her voice was still soft, but more serious. She made eye contact, and continued with, "Right now, I'm an employee of the Department of Education in this state. I can't do that." She let go of me, and stepped back slightly, and said, "I feel terrible, like I've led you on, but," and she paused, clearing her throat, "I could get into all kinds of trouble." She shook her head, and said, "I'mreallysorry."

We both sat back down on the couch, and she said, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said, "I'm okay. Don't worry about it." I smiled, but then I realised I was shaking.

Katy took a breath, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, and she said, "Justin, you are abeautifulyoung man. If I wasn't your teacher, believe me, I'd take you into my room, and I'ddragyou into bed with me." She gestured towards her bedroom, and burst out laughing, shaking her head at the same time, and said, "I can'tbelievewhat I was thinking just a few moments ago."

"I can't either," I said, as the truth of what she was saying dawned on me, but I had a dry little laugh as well.

We sat there for a few minutes, just talking, and then the phone rang. There was an extension in the back shack, and Katy answered it. It was Mrs Weston, asking me to come and pick them up from the hotel, so Katy and I drove back in Mr Weston's car to get them again. After I dropped them back home, I took my parents and Craig back home to our place in our own car, and that night, I lay in my bed, running the events of the evening through my head, thinking,The most beautiful girl I've ever seen almost took me to bed tonight.I was a little disappointed we hadn't gone further, but just getting to hold her like that was enough to fuel my fantasies for the rest of the weekend. In fact, that's about all I thought about for the next couple of days.

Our next history period of course was Tuesday morning, and we had to hand in another assignment. That day, Miss Martin was wearing a short, pale blue skirt and a cream coloured blouse, and as always, she looked totally hot. She gave me a special smile as she entered the room, and a couple of times, she made eye contact and smiled again. I didn't tell my friends about Saturday night, partly because I didn't think they'd believe me, but also because I saw it as a special memory that was too precious to go sharing around with just anyone. However, there was still a lot of talk from guys around the school about what they would like to do with Miss Martin, and when I heard them talking big, I would think to myself thatIhad been privileged to hold that beautiful body, andIhad kissed that pretty mouth.

On Thursday morning, we had yet another history period, and after we got our assignments back, Miss Martin held a class discussion about the topic. A few people got up to answer questions, and share ideas, and then she said to the class, "Justin had a few good ideas on this assignment," and as everyone looked my way, she asked me a question about the assignment, and got me to stand up and share the answer with the class. I won't say I wasn't nervous, but somehow after that night with her, I had come to see myself a little differently, and I felt as though I liked myself a little more than before. I stood up and shared a couple of my own perspectives with the class, and sat down, relieved, but a little pleased with myself as well.

Life went on, and after a few more weeks, Miss Martin announced to the class that she would soon be leaving us to go back to the United States. There was a kind of exaggerated groan from the class, and I felt a pang of sadness that she was leaving so soon. It occurred to me that no-one else in the class had as much reason to be disappointed as me, even if they would never know about it.

Then, a couple of weeks later, on another Saturday morning, my dad said once again, that we were having lunch at the Weston residence. This time, I was excited at the prospect, and as before, we arrived at midday, but I was disappointed to find Katy was not there. Mr Weston told us she was at a seminar for teachers on the exchange program, and was due back later in the day, so after lunch, I sat around watching my parents and Mr and Mrs Weston boozing, and avoiding Suzy for the rest of the afternoon.

Just before sundown, a small bus stopped outside, and Katy got off, along with a few other people, who I assumed were also on the exchange program. They stood around, shaking hands, hugging each other, and saying goodbyes, and then everyone except Katy got back on the bus, and it drove away. She walked to the door, and I let her in, and she smiled brightly when she saw me. "Hey, Justin," she said, happily, "fancy meeting you here again." She stepped inside, and greeted my parents, and the Weston's.

Katy was wearing a knitted turtle-neck top and blue jeans, and they were hugging her curvy figure, so the sight of her made a ripple of excitement go through me, as we all stood around talking together. I saw my dad checking her out a few times, and he gave her marvellously constructed butt a good going over with his eyes, when she turned to speak to Mrs Weston.

We had dinner inside this time, and after we had all eaten, as Mr Weston opened yet another beer for my dad, and started to drink one himself, Katy said to me, "Do you want to come up to the shack for while. I've got some more records you might like to listen to."

Katy and I walked up to the back shack, in the moonlight, and we went inside, to the little lounge room, where she showed me the newest additions to her record collection. She had a new album by The Police, and she put it on the turntable, and said, "I'm going to change out of these clothes. Make yourself some coffee if you like, or there's some beer in the fridge." She went into the bedroom, and as I looked in the fridge, it occurred to me that behind that bedroom door, an incredibly beautiful woman was changing her clothes, and was probably stripping to her underwear as I stood there. That thought alone made a cold wave of excitement pass through me.

I took a beer from the fridge, and opened it, taking a sip as I stood there, remembering that night a few weeks before, when Katy and I had slow-danced together in this little, old house. As I stood there, Katy emerged from her bedroom, now in a short denim skirt and a cream coloured tank top. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she had her sandals on, and she came over towards me, wafting the scent of freshly-applied perfume, and she said, "What do you think?" I was about to say how good she looked, thinking that was what she was asking, but she added, "Of the music, I mean," and I realised I had nearly said something very stupid.

"They're good," I said, although I wasn't a big fan of The Police. She saw the beer in my hand and said, "I've got some red wine here, I don't feel like beer at the moment." She poured herself a glass of red wine from a bottle on the kitchen bench, and took a sip.