All The Way In

"What is the matter with this place?" she thundered, and we actually heard her use the word "shit" before the manager hastily shut his door, while the three of us waited outside with our sandy, frozen swim trunks still on. Ms Dubinsky was upstairs getting the seven girls ready for dinner. The staff was very nice to us: free coffee and cookies, an offer of a free meal, all the complimentary toothbrushes we could ask for.

But the upshot was not good. Mrs Julian emerged from the office red-faced, as angry as I'd ever seen her, looking like she'd just bent the manager over and kicked his ass. "So, boys," she began, "it's like this. The hotel is all booked up, and this... this gentleman here," she went on, jerking her head sideways at the manager, "says he's not going to have a replacement room available this weekend. Your room is... well, it's uninhabitable, and he's not even sure it'll be okay by tomorrow night."

She was watching our faces, hers stern and deeply angry, but not at us; she was angry for us, which made me feel a lot better about myself. "The wait staff is going to go in and get your things. Right, Mr Tighe? Because we're not going to make these young men go back into that stinking cesspit? Right?"

"Certainly, ma'am." A dominatrix would not have enforced more obedience than that.

"Good. So, for tonight..." She licked her lips, considering. "Look, there's no good way to go about this. School policy prohibits cohabitation among students, Ryan," she said pointedly; she knew, of course, that he and Leah were dating, "and policy also says there must be a chaperone sleeping on every floor our kids are on. So it's not as if Ms Dubinsky and I can share a room and give you boys one of ours; I've already been in touch with the Principal, and he's been very insistent about that."

She sighed and laid down the law. "So Ms D has one bed in her room, I've got two in mine. That means two of you are going to stay in my room and one of you will be with Ms Dubinsky." She glared at us. "On the floor; Mr Tighe here can't get a cot until tomorrow, at the earliest." She glared daggers at the poor man, who looked like his penis had shriveled just from being in the same room with her. Mrs Julian could be chilling that way.

"So." She considered very carefully. "I'll confirm this with Ms Dubinsky before dinner, but Ryan? You will be in my room." She left nobody in any doubt that the reason for that choice began with an L and ended with eah. "Jeff, you too; you're short, so you can easily share with Ryan."

"I'll take the floor," he said immediately, pale. He was still shivering from the Polar Dip.

"No, you will not." Her voice was ice. "For now, once Mr Tighe's people get your things, you may change in the pool room? Right?" She glanced at Tighe, making it clear that was where she wanted them to change; what he wanted did not matter. Then she nodded to herself, and her voice softened. "This is a bad situation, boys, no doubt about it. But we'll make it work." The voice hardened right back up, going back to its old flinty self. "Won't we, Mr Tighe?"

"Oh certainly, Mrs... uh, certainly!"

"It's Mrs Julian. Now, bring these young men their things. They'll be showered and changed and clean and neat in twenty minutes, or the refund you're giving us will be even greater. Yes?"

We were warm, dry, and presentable in fifteen.

* * *

"So, yeah."

"Yeah." Ms Dubinsky was not her usual peppy self. I got the distinct impression she was nervous, which blew me away; why such a fantastic woman would be at all nervous around a yutz like me was quite beyond my comprehension. She'd walked with me back to her room after dinner in an uncharacteristic silence, and when we'd walked into her room we'd just stood around looking at each other. "Well, so, I'll just come on out and say it, Todd: I'm not sure I ever figured I'd be bringing a student to my hotel room." She looked at me, sharp as ever in a pencil skirt and one of those bright pink scoop-necked shirts with the short, short sleeves; she'd brought a little jacket thingie to go with it, but she'd slung it across the bed as soon as she'd walked in.

I looked down at my shoes and shrugged. "Well, it's sort of a first for me, too, Ms D."

"Even though it's, you know, allowed," she went right on, as though I hadn't spoken. "Everyone knows the circumstances, the principal knows, you called your parents... it's fine. All good. But it's kind of..."

"...a weird and unexpected situation."

"Yes!" She snapped her fingers, briefly her old self, her hair jiggling like it had its own life. "There you go!" She sighed, and finally she sat down on her bed. "Right."

I felt like that meant I was allowed to sit, too, in the uncomfortable chair by the window. The heater whirred beside me. "I mean, you could just pretend I'm not here," I pointed out. Shit, why was I feeling awkward? None of this was my fault; I was the wronged party here. "I'll just hang out on the floor, out of the way, like Cinderella."

She looked at me levelly for a long moment. "I was thinking more like Harry Potter," she said at last, frowning.

"Nope." I shrugged. Her legs had started swinging against the bed, and I made myself look away. "There's no staircase here, you know, with the space underneath?" I frowned. "Isn't it Cinderella who slept on the floor at the foot of the bed?"

She laid her chin in her hands, thoughtful for a moment, then nodded decisively. "I have no idea, Toddster. But whatever." And then she smiled once again, and I started to feel a little better. She smoothed the skirt over her thighs. "But I'm taking the floor, Todd. You can have the bed."

"No!"

"I might have to insist, Todd," she said severely. "You're my guest, and I feel like I'm supposed to take care of you, so you take the bed." She eyed the dirty carpet. "I don't mind."

"But the floor won't hurt me, Ms D. I'm young and..."

She glared at me, tossing her heavy curls. "You be careful what you say here, kiddo. The next words out of your mouth could get your butt kicked."

"I was going to say," I replied loudly and slowly, feeling my face flush, "I'm young and stupid and I won't even notice I'm on the floor, because I'm an idiot who doesn't think before he speaks? Maybe?"

"That's about right." She was relaxing at last. She frowned and looked at me, her legs swinging. "Okay," she said at last. "You're a nice kid, so I can see this is going to become one of those things where we go back and forth all night arguing uselessly about who's right. So yeah, I guess I'll take the bed." She sat up abruptly, her body erect on the mattress, and reached up to take off her earrings. "I'll go in the bathroom to change," she muttered as she clawed behind her ears.

"No." I got quickly to my feet, frightened at the thought that I was inconveniencing her. "No, I'll just take a walk. How long do you need, Ms D?"

She looked up at me with a smile of immense, radiant warmth, enough to make me feel guilty I'd ever jerked off to thoughts of her. She looked incredible, and pure and perfect. "You're sweet," she blurted. "Five minutes; I stink, but I'm not going to hog the shower."

* * *

I came back in with a pair of candy bars from the vending machine. "Here," I offered, holding one of them out. "Want one?"

Jesus, I thought. The effortless sexiness continued. She sat on the bed in what looked like the same running shorts from last night, the kind short enough and loose enough to show the line of her ass as she sat against her pillows with her knees drawn up, picking mulishly at her own toenails. I tried not to look. A short t-shirt completed the look, riding up in the back to expose a quartet of humped vertebrae as they marched up her back. I couldn't see any bra straps, and yes, I looked. She glanced up from her toes and grinned. "That's sweet."

'I know. It's chocolate." Her grin grew sly, but I'd surprised myself saying anything so flirty. "Take your pick, Ms D. It's like a hostess present."

"Why thank you, sir." I tried not to look between where her smooth thighs were drawn up, but of course I failed; her shorts were pulled tightly against her mound. She seemed not to notice as she selected the peanut one. "You brought one for yourself, I notice."

"No. You can have them both. I wanted to make sure I got one without nuts, you know, just in case."

She frowned, thought about it, and finally nodded. "Yeah. Allergies." She took a healthy bite. "Well, no worries. I'm good with nuts." Too late, she heard herself say the double-entendre, and her face went pleasantly scarlet. "See?" she complained. "You're not the only one who isn't thinking about what he says, Toddster." She remained flushed as she nodded at the other bar. "Knock yourself out. Then you can change."

I glanced down at her clothes. "You're going out like that?"

She scowled. "Got a problem with my outfit, dad?"

I held both hands up, disarming her. "Now now, Ms D. I'm just trying to keep you out of trouble. It's a hotel full of unattended high schoolers. I'd feel bad if, you know, kids from other places got the wrong idea about you." It came out glibly, sounding confident, and distantly I wondered where I was getting this kind of game. I had no clue where I was getting my schwerve from, but as I got more and more comfortable with this weird situation, I was tossing off one-liners like you read about. "We can't have you dishonoring Seaborne Memorial High School, Ms Dubinsky."

She sat back against the headboard, her little boobs jiggling bralessly, and I swallowed involuntarily. "My my," she rapped right back. "I'm honored by your concern, but I've got to ask: what have you done with that nice, gentle Todd Barry boy?" She grinned again, her teeth packed with chocolate, and then she uncoiled her limbs. "Fine, if you're so worried," she shrugged, getting smoothly to her feet. "I've got to go pee anyway. Holler when you're done changing." She frowned seriously. "I forgot: they called while you were out. No cots, Todd. But you can have all the blankets and crap; I only need one pillow." The hotel had provided about five.

"I'll be fine." I watched her bare legs as she passed me on her way to the bathroom; she shut the door without a backward glance, and now I had a problem: I only ever wear boxers when I sleep.

I had a t-shirt, but I'd brought it for the Polar Dip and it was wet and filthy, tossed into a corner of my bag like a child in time-out. I had plenty of button-downs, which was what we'd been told to bring, but she'd laugh at me if I claimed I slept in those. So, after a painful few moments of vacillation, I chiseled out the nasty t-shirt, grimaced as I put it on, and then dropped my trousers. I heard the toilet flush. I checked to make sure my boxers weren't gaping open, then cleared my throat. "Ready, Ms D."

The door opened immediately, and she came out with a keen glance and a bright smile at me. "Much better." She meant the bathroom, but she stopped short at once. One look, and she read my mind. "You're not wearing that filthy mess just because you're feeling modest, Todd."

I shrugged. "I'll be fine."

"I can smell that from here." She frowned and peered closer. "Look, there's sand all over that thing. I'm a biology teacher, Todd. Believe me when I tell you it's unhealthy for you to sleep in that." She reached up, stretching, to undo her wild hair. "It's not like I didn't see you without a shirt on, like, five hours ago," she pointed out. "I won't be scandalized."

"I don't know." I frowned, trying unsuccessfully not to look at her chest. If she noticed, she didn't say anything, her hair flooding down over her shoulders. "It's different this way. I mean, I'm in my boxers."

"So?" She mussed at her curls, blinking owlishly. "It ain't the boxers I've got a problem with, Todd-o. It's that nasty-ass shirt."

"Toddster," I corrected. "And watch your mouth, Ms D. You were the one apologizing earlier for dropping F-bombs."

"Yeah," she mused. "But you can't blame me for that. I was being pummeled by the full fury of the raging Atlantic." She said it mockingly, sliding back along the bedspread until she hit the headboard again. "I'm not responsible for anything that happened in the water today. I was in survival mode."

I stared at her, reminding her silently about what else she'd apologized for, and finally she lowered her eyes. "Well," she said after a moment, "it's a disgusting shirt. But you do what you have to do." She leaned her head back, then leaned lithely over to grab the remote. "You could have had the hotel wash it. From what Lynn Julian told me, she could have gotten the manager to do anything for you."

"Huh." I was back in the chair, the sand grating at my back, and I decided. "Well, since you've seen it anyway," I said, totally self-conscious, and then the soaked shirt took its previous place stuffed into the corner of my bag. I sat back in nothing but my underwear, wondering how this had happened. "You happy now, Ms D?"

"Very." She was flipping mindlessly through the channels. I saw her glance once over at my chest. "Better not tell anyone about this, Todd. You'll get me fired."

"I would never," I said, very sincerely, and then she settled on some news show and we shut up for awhile.

* * *

I was swathed in the comforter and one of the manager's extra blankets, smeared across three separate pillows and deep in sleep, when a horrific impact knocked me awake. "Goddammit!" I cried, sitting up on Ms Dubinsky's floor. "What the hell?"

A shape sprawled across me in the dark, an arm resting on my naked chest. I heard a muffled "Fuck this shit" from right beside me. "Sorry, Todd. You okay?"

Everything was confusing, but my eyes were getting used to the bluish light coming softly in through the curtains and all I saw were legs, smooth legs, flailing across my body. I put my arms out blindly, encountering flesh and the whipping strands of her hair. "Um. Ms Dubinsky?"

"I tripped." She dragged herself up and off me, sitting now on the floor beside my head. "You okay?" she asked again, clearly concerned.

I shook my head. "Yeah. I'm fine. What the fuck, Ms D?"

"Sorry, Todd. I was coming in from the bed check, and I totally forgot you were here." She was leaning over me. "You sure I didn't hurt you?"

"No," I admitted, doing inventory. I was hard as a rock; I had no way of knowing whether that had happened before she fell on me, or after, but whatever. "I can scoot out of the way..."

"Shit, Todd, no. It's two in the morning. Just go back to sleep." She hovered for a few more seconds, then I felt her fingers warm on my bare shoulder. "Good night, Toddster."

"Mmm," I replied, but I was already drifting back under.

* * *

Showering was, to say the least, awkward.

I was still swaddled on the floor as the bathroom door opened in a cloud of steam. Out she came, like some sort of mist-goddess, her head turbaned in a hotel towel and the rest of her body wrapped in two more, almost like a toga clasped hard under her armpits. "Sorry, Todd," she called; she was saying that a lot lately. "I used a bunch of the hot water."

"That's fine." I was renowned for my brief showers. I stretched out under the various scraps of hotel linen, my hands behind my head, and looked up over my head out the window. She was naked under the towels, I realized slowly; that's why Ms D was just standing there uncomfortably, expectantly, waiting for me to get out of sight. "Oh. Sorry. Um, should I go?"

"I can get dressed in the bathroom, I guess, once the humidity clears out. I don't want all my stuff to wilt." She didn't move, leaning against the wall with her shoulders still beaded with water. "Or if you, like, want to go in and shower..."

"Sure." I laid still a few seconds more, then kicked the sheets off me, working to unwind my legs from the blankets, and by the time I realized my dick had popped straight out of the slit in the front of my boxers, it had probably been flopping around for awhile. "Shit."

Ms Dubinsky looked away. "Yeah, uh, I was going to mention that." She was bright red rising out of the towel. Blushing and apologizing; it was all she was doing to me these days. She made a big show of not looking while I stuffed myself away, humiliated. "Well," she drawled, trying to make light of it, "I did tell you I didn't mind if you wore your boxers."

"Yeah." I had to piss very badly, and I inched past her with my head down.

The bathroom fan wasn't loud enough to drown out my embarrassment. Christ Jesus, why hadn't I just buttoned the stupid button on the front of the boxers? What was wrong with me? I couldn't even stall in there; there wasn't enough hot water, the temperature starting to inch downward even before I got myself soaped up. I emerged shivering, dripping onto the cheaply tiled floor, and looking stupidly at the towel rack.

Shit. Ms Dubinsky had taken all the towels. Oh wait, correction: she'd left one of those little hand towels barely big enough to cover my pubes. I stared at myself in the mirror, mute with horror, shaking my head. What else could possibly go wrong?

I'd have to ask her for help. The alternative was to stand here and drip-dry, or wait until she left and sneak out to use the blanket or something; both seemed awkward. She'd wonder what I was doing in here all this time; she'd seen my hard-on at the Polar Dip, she'd seen my soft dick dangling just a few minutes ago; she'd assume I was in here, spooging on the wall.

Disaster.

In desperation I went to the door. "Uh, Ms D?" My voice sounded hoarse with embarrassment, and I cleared my throat. "Ms Dubinsky?" I finally thought to turn off the rattly fan, then tried one more time. "Ah, Ms Dubinsky?"

"Todd? What's up?" I heard her soft footsteps in the scrunchy old hotel carpet, then they stopped as she hesitated outside the door. "Um, is everything okay."

"No." I hoped I didn't sound too mournful, like a whiny kid denied his cotton candy. I deepened my voice a tad. "You took all the towels, Ms D."

"Shit! No way." She paused again. "All of them?"

"All but this." I opened the door just a crack, standing well back from the slit, and thrust my hand through with the stupid little hand towel. "I'm freezing."

"Oh, sorry! Just a sec." She lunged back; I heard her rummaging over by the bed. "Aw Jesus, Toddster, I'm sorry; I already used both of them. Like, they're all damp."

"I don't care. Just pass it through." Her voice got louder as she headed back my way, and I cracked the door again.

"Yeah, that little hand towel probably doesn't do much for you, huh?" She wasn't mocking me; she sounded like she was mortified. "At least it's not as cold as yesterday."

"No shit." Neither of us was even thinking about it anymore, swearing easily in front of each other; it didn't even feel weird. "Wouldn't matter, if you weren't such a towel hog." Her hand punched through the open door, holding a large damp towel. She shook it. "Thanks."

"Towel hog," she repeated, scoffing. "This is my room; you're just a guest. How can you accuse me of hogging all my own towels?" There was a ring of humor in her voice, just on the other side of the door. "I'm entitled to everything in this room, Mr Barry, and don't forget it."

"Some kind of hospitality," I groused. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." She must have seen my foot and calf as my leg crossed the gap to kick the bathroom door closed. The towel was damp and wrinkled and smelled deeply of Ms Dubinsky's hair, and as I whipped it around my body I was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought that this same towel had just been wrapped around her naked body, and holy shit.

Now I was thinking about spooging on the wall.