Bimbo Builder Academy Ch. 01

Instinctively, I had the feeling that I should not be here. There were the explicit instructions of my employer, of course. And there was the fact that the door to the other building had been sealed shut. But there was also the strange sensation I had when I entered the darkened interior.

There were no people.

The hallway stretched ahead, empty and silent, a practically perfect replica of the building I'd left. The doors on the left and right were the same dark wood, and the one difference was that these ones had windows set into the upper half.

I walked forward, glancing side to side until through the nearest door I began to hear something.

The room was dark, but there was actually a dull bluish glow coming through the glass pane of the window. I approached and glanced through, keeping as far out of sight as I could. Unfortunately, that meant all I could see was the front wall of what seemed to be a classroom. There was a giant projector screen rolled down in my view. On it, a man with glasses was standing in front of a spinning, glowing image of what looked like the solar system. I couldn't tell, but it was dark with sparkling white lights and it was spinning at a strange pace. The strangest thing about it, though, was that the flat panes of the man's glasses were also spiraling with the starry lights.

I watched for a moment, spacing out, but it was at an odd angle so I couldn't really concentrate.

Then I blinked and realized that the man on the screen was speaking. He was saying something — the low bass of his voice through the door was the sound I'd heard— but it was too smooth and monotone for me to understand.

Then the man paused, as though waiting.

I held my breath. Had he stopped because he knew I was here? But that was a silly thing to think. The man was a video recording. Why was I being so childish? Then my train of thought was distracted.

Another murmur, this one a bit louder. Other voices were responding to the man on the screen. He'd been waiting for them, like one of those interactive television shows for kids.

Yes? That was what they'd seemed to say. Yes, something, I thought. But I hadn't heard. This was the English and History building — and Computer Science — so I was wondering why an astronomy class would be taken here.

Then I shook my head, realizing that my knees were straining and I wasn't sure how long I'd been standing in the darkened hallway. I didn't have a watch, and I didn't want to pull out my bright smartphone in the shadowy corridor to check the time, so I turned and sneaked furtively back to the exit. I was through the door in a flash and crossing the quad at a brisk walk. I eased through the door to my building and headed up the stairs.

I was most of the way down the normally-lighted hall to my office when I heard the sudden sound of shoes on the tiled floor behind me.

I froze.

Did someone see me? I asked myself. Then, I wondered why I was so nervous just to be walking around the building at my place of employment.

I turned, plastering what I hoped was an innocent look across my face.

Joseph Clayton was approaching me. He wore a neutral expression, so I had no idea what to expect.

"Out in the hallway, Professor Sands?" he asked. "Going somewhere?"

I breathed a massive, and internal, sigh of relief. So he hadn't seen me. I shrugged, trying to seem relaxed. "Just had to take a trip to the restroom before class."

The man stopped a few feet in front of me and then grinned. He winked conspiratorially. "Don't be too nervous, Professor," he counseled. "The girls may be intimidating, but just treat them as regular students."

I nodded. "Did you come around just to check up on me?" I said it in a joking way, but I wondered if I imagined a slight tightening around the principal's mouth.

"Just wanted to be sure you were ready for your first class," the man said easily. He checked his wrist, where a watch the color of running mercury gleamed. "Just a couple of minutes to spare," he said.

"Well then, sir," I said, "let me get into my classroom and finish prep."

Principal Clayton nodded, smiled warmly at me, and turned on his heel. "Swing by my office at the end of the day," he called over his shoulder. "You can let me know if you have any questions after your first few classes."

I jerked my head in agreement, realized he wasn't looking, and called after him, "Yes, sir!"

But there was no acknowledgement before he turned the corner at the end of the long, white hallway and was gone.

I fished in my pocket for my ring of keys, opened my classroom and closed the door behind me. I frowned, then, glancing at the clock hanging over the whiteboard.

I had left my office just after noon. Was I to believe I'd been crouched outside a classroom watching the solar system for more than half an hour? Weird again, I thought, and busied myself with prepping for class.

I took a dry-erase marker and wrote "Professor Sands" on the board in neat, upright letters. Then, I stared at it.

I'm not old enough to be a professor, I thought. But I left it up there, because I could guess without being told that the Academy frowned on the idea of students calling Professors by their first name.

I glanced around, noting the simple, elegant setup.

The front of the classroom was dominated by the whiteboard and a plain, heavy desk of dark wood. Behind the desk was a rolling chair of rich leather. It was the kind of seat that I had seen by the dozens in computer labs at university, but this one had been upgraded with a heavy-duty frame and plush leather cushions. Across from the door, windows looked out several floors above the quad. There was a thick woven carpet on the floor, and maybe a dozen desks and chairs of matching wood filled the space. The desks weren't in rows, but scattered with a careless artfulness.

I sat down in front of the whiteboard and kicked my feet up carelessly, laying one ankle over the other on top of the desk. They hit the floor an instant later when I remembered I needed to be way more professional on my first day. And then, "Shit!" With three minutes to go, I realized that I'd forgotten my lesson plan in my office. I hadn't gone back since I snuck out almost an hour before.

I shoved myself up out of my chair and strode to the door.

Where are my students? I wondered as I tugged it open and swiftly crossed the corridor to my office. I glanced left and right, saw no one, and went in. I closed the door, sprang to the desk, and tugged open my messenger bag.

Useless notebook. Useless folder. Textbook. Here!

I clutched the thin sheaf of papers in my fist, yanked them free without ceremony and accidentally tipped my bag. Papers spilled across the desk and onto the floor. The thick brown textbook slid across the papers and then tumbled with a heavy thud onto the carpet.

I blinked in surprise, muttered a swift fuck and decided I could deal with that later. I glanced down to confirm that the thin stack of printer paper in my hands was marked with the neat notes for today's class. I would be picking up where their last professor had left off, before his unfortunate illness.

The foundational steps into multivariable calculus. Perfect. I could handle this in my sleep.

I crossed the corridor, closing my office but leaving the door of the classroom open. I sat, skimmed over my lesson plan in a dozen seconds, and then paused. I resisted the urge to check my nonexistent watch, considered craning my neck to look at the clock behind me, and then tugged my phone from my back pocket instead.

12:59. I frowned, wondering where my students could be.

Then, at 1 o'clock precisely, like they'd been waiting just around the corner in the hallway, I heard the sounds of multiple footsteps. A second later, the low murmur of voices. And then—

I sat and stared, forced myself to blink and then hurriedly stood.

When Principal Clayton had described the girls as intimidating, I had assumed he meant in terms of their wealth and influence. I hadn't expected him to mean physically intimidating.

Any one of the young women who entered my classroom could have been a supermodel.

I had to force myself to make eye contact with each one as they sashayed, pranced and glided into the room. It was the only way to keep myself from admiring a procession of perky breasts, bouncy asses and long legs. Normally, I would have no trouble with resisting the momentary urge to check out a woman. But I was just like any other red-blooded male. Some things I can't help but appreciate.

To be fair, I was lost either way. It wasn't just their bodies that were stunning. Sparkling eyes with long, luscious lashes batted back at me. Dark green, light hazel, molten chocolate brown, glowing blue...

Blue stopped, and one of the young women, a cute brunette with blonde highlights, stepped from the line and held out her hand.

"Professor," she said smoothly. Her voice was surprisingly rich, and I realized she might only be a few years younger than me. "My name is Natalie. I just wanted to thank you for filling in on such short notice."

"Of cou—, I mean... well, yes... You're welcome."

I released the younger woman's hand a little too soon to be polite, but otherwise I was worried I would have held on too long, entranced by her bright blue gaze. I tried and failed to look around the room as Natalie stepped around the nearest desk and slid coolly into it. She was wearing a plaid, schoolgirl skirt that came to a stop several inches above her knees. Her white blouse had a broad collar and was open a single button at the top. It was perfectly appropriate school attire.

On her, it looked like a kinky roleplay outfit.

I forced myself to turn my gaze away and scan across my students. All of the desks were full, each one with a stunning, attentive young woman. Were the daughters to the wealthy and influential all born gorgeous?

Looking around, it seemed like they were.

"There aren't any more desks, so I'll skip calling roll and assume you're all here." The joke felt lame, but it landed to several appreciative, breathy chuckles. I wondered if I should know everyone's names, but I figured that for now I should stick to something I was certain about.

Besides, Principal Clayton had pretty well discouraged fraternizing with my students.

You're a teacher and nothing else, I reminded myself. "I'm, ahem... I'm Professor Sands. I'll be picking up where your old teacher left off." My chest eased as familiar words flowed. "Today, we'll be reviewing..."

I turned toward the board and let the words tumble out.

They were easy words, math words. Nothing curious, strange or sinister here.

Math was safe.

"... so if we look at the angle here—"

"Professor?"

I glanced around, blinking free from my trance. I realized that Natalie's hand was in the air.

I raised my eyebrows and she gave a sheepish smile. Her teeth flashed, white and perfect. It was a smile that implied she was blushing, but almost made me blush instead.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said. "But I had a question on the point you just made before...?"

I nodded, distracted by the way her mouth moved when she formed the words.

"So, you said that..." She asked her question, and I actually blinked in surprise.

It was a good one. Most students didn't appreciate the subtlety between the two theorems I had just taught them, but Natalie had noticed it.

I gave a brief reply, then continued with the lecture.

And so class continued. I would speak for half a dozen minutes, Natalie would have several questions, and then I would be surprised by her insight. She seemed eager to learn, more eager than most students in a mathematics lecture, and her bright eyes seemed to pin me in place and draw out the answers from inside my mind. I knew it was wrong, but I realized that I had assumed that simply because Natalie was gorgeous she wasn't smart.

I must say, it was a nice way to be proven wrong.

A soft, synthetic gong interrupted my train of thought. The sound seemed to penetrate the whole building, and then slowly faded out.

"Wha—?" I started to say, then I checked the clock.

2:20.

"Well, I guess that's it for today." I glanced back around. "Oh..."

Somehow, most of my class were already standing beside their desks. Handbags and backpacks were at the ready, papers and notebooks stowed.

That was quick. I raised a hand in an awkward wave. "Your homework for tomorrow is on the syllabus your old professor gave you. We're moving pretty quickly, so we'll likely be getting ahead of him soon. I'll go in and change the syllabus by the time that happens."

By the time I was done talking, there was only one young woman left in the room. It was Natalie, who was acting like she was taking notes all the way until the very end.

I raised my eyebrows at her when she glanced up, pencil still poised over the paper.

"Oh, are you done?" she laughed softly, easily. She flashed me a smile. "I think I was just super engrossed by your lesson. You're a great teacher, Professor Sands."

I swallowed. "Thank you, Natalie."

The young woman was packed up and out in the next few moments, bouncing off down the hallway. "Thanks, Professor," she called over her shoulder.

I ducked back into the doorway to stop myself from staring at her legs in that plaid skirt. I sat behind my desk for a second, taking a deep breath after my first class at the Brighton Barnsworth Academy.

Principal Clayton was right. Someone that whip smart and beautiful? Someone like that was very intimidating.

Like your girlfriend, the doctor, I thought. I purposefully forced my mind away from my student. Julia's beautiful and smart, both. I nodded firmly, fixing her face in my mind and telling myself not to be so disloyal.

But no matter what, there's always the sex problem... But, no. That was just a small part of my mind, easy to push aside.

I did a quick check on the roll sheet, just to satisfy my curiosity.

Natalie, the paper read. 19 years old. Third term. There was no last name. No way for me to identify who she was or who she might be related to. Or who it was that could afford to send her to an obscenely expensive private university in the City.

The question distracted my mind for a moment, but the thoughts of sex were almost impossible to push aside forever. Ten minutes later my next class began, and this set of young women was no less stunningly gorgeous than the first had been.

* * *

I remembered as I locked the door to my classroom that Principal Clayton had wanted me to swing by at the end of the day. I glanced left and right down the empty hall, and I realized I had no idea how to get to his office from here.

I sighed.

I would just have to go back to the Academy entrance and retrace the steps I'd taken to get to the main office. Back when I was here for my interviews. Have I really never been given a map? I thought. I scanned back pensively through my memory. I hadn't.

Odd.

It was strange not to know the layout of my work. For example, I knew that somewhere in my building there must be an elevator. But my desire to arrive at the principal's office promptly, without getting lost in dark hallways with locked doors, led me back to the stairs, down and across the quad, and into to the main lobby entrance. I had already explored enough for one day.

Principal Clayton was waiting there for me, leaning calmly against the pale wall in his trim grey suit.

I wondered for a brief moment where all the students were. This time of day at Denton the classrooms would be emptying, the hallways would be filling, and dozens of students would be milling around waiting to be picked up. But I wouldn't think of Denton. It just made me too... I clenched my fists, then released them. Upset.

The principal was a welcome distraction. "Come!" he said, gesturing widely. He led me down toward his office, peppering me with questions. How was I liking my office? And the classroom had everything I needed? Were the students respectful? Was I finding it easy to pick up where my predecessor had left off?

I found myself sitting down in his office, barely remembering how we'd gotten there, and then I asked suddenly. "Where are all the students?"

"Pardon?"

I glanced up into his face and the principal seemed confused. "The students," I repeated. "At the end of the day..." I trailed off and gestured vaguely. "Shouldn't they be flooding the halls to head home?" I wondered, momentarily, what they would be going home to.

Mansions the size of city blocks? Gorgeous estates just outside of the City? I'd seen the tuition costs to attend the Academy. Astronomical.

"Oh the students." He emphasized the word, strangely. "Don't you remember?" Joseph Clayton gave me a look of puzzlement. "The Brighton Barnsworth Academy is, as of this year, entirely a boarding school."

I blinked and shook my head.

"All of the students have gone back to their rooms." The man's voice was a little concerned, like I should have known.

Of course. I did hear something about that. "I'm sorry," I muttered. "It must be my head still spinning from my first day."

"No worries, Professor Sands." The principal stood and I rose with him. He led me to the door and patted me on the back in a friendly way. "Here, would you like a mint? There you are. Enjoy. I'm glad you're with us, Mitchell... I'm pleased to say that you seem to be fitting in very well here."

* * *

Approximately 3 minutes ago...

I cursed softly when I got back to my office.

I'd forgotten that I'd left it a mess.

With a sigh, I set myself to the task of clearing it up. I stooped down and started to pick up papers, trying to pull them back into a pile before I realized that they were hopelessly disorganized.

Fantastic.

I groaned and got down on my hands and knees. If I bent over this stuff for more than a few minutes it would probably wreak havoc on my lower back. At least, that's what Julia would tell me when I complained about it later.

I reached into my bag and tugged out the case containing my glasses. If I didn't put them on, I'd be straining my eyes instead of my back. There were several dozen sheets here, many of them loose ideas and theorems I'd been playing with. If they were out of order, I'd have no easy way of connecting the dots later on.

I was probably halfway through the scattered papers when I got distracted by a half-finished idea that I'd noticed, mostly by accident. There was a pen in my hand, and I was on my hands and knees behind my desk. I was using the textbook as a table to scratch out some branching ideas.

There came a soft knocking sound, like someone was gently rapping on the open entrance. "Professor?"

"Yeah?" I called, then realized how undignified I must seem, crawling around on the floor.

"Professor Sands? Are you...?" I heard the click of high heels. "Behind the desk?"

"Yes, yes!" I said. I shoved myself back onto my heels and glanced up as I stood, abandoning my pen and work on the carpet.

Natalie stood in front of me. She was wearing the same outfit as before, only with the addition of a short navy jacket that accentuated her bust and flaring hips. I could only assume it was a personal fashion choice, because none of the other girls had been wearing that sort of school uniform. I was required to wear my dark suit for my role as teacher, but I hadn't gotten the impression that the students had a particular dress code.