Filling the Circle

"I accept!" He nearly shouted it, but Nicole was already tracing her finger down through the sparse tuft of his chest hair, all the way down his body to slip through the coarse forest of his pubes. She ran her finger slowly along his straight, pulsing dick, tracing the vein at the top, feeling him. I caught movement down between Nelson's legs; Leah was rolling his balls together, massaging them, Nelson's chest rising and falling.

"Do you offer your seed?" Nicole asked him softly.

"Say yes," Leah giggled, and given what her fingers were doing to his scrotum, he was quick to agree.

"Yes!" His eyes were riveted to her tits.

"Then I accept, as well," Nicole sighed. She cleared her throat again, her skin ruddy in the light of her candle as she passed it along the front of his body in an intricate series of whorls. There was something familiar about the pattern made by the intoxicating flame, I thought, staring at it, and then I realized: it was the same as the whorls on Alex' email sig. The smell of spicy flowers filled the entire space, making me light-headed, as Nicole took Nelson's gaze and held it hard, bringing the candle down below his hanging balls.

He went dead still the moment he felt the heat between his legs. She left it there a second or two, her eyes fixed on his from where she knelt beside his stiff cock, letting the orange glow reflect off his hairy thighs. The only motion in the silent room was Leah's fingers, methodically pulling at his sack. Nicole smiled grimly. "Feel the heat in your loins," she purred.

"Feel the heat in your loins," echoed the other two girls, and Leah gave his balls one final tug before she crouched suddenly and took the candle back from Nicole between Nelson's stunned and apprehensive legs. Whatever sketchiness he was feeling, though, disappeared in a gloating grin as, with Leah's hands drifting coolly across his ass, he looked down to see Nicole's conquering smirk moving steadily toward the head of his trembly cock, her little fingers wrapping around his shaft with steady confidence.

"I claim you," she murmured, pursing her lips to blow steadily along his cock. I watched, breathless, the candles playing off the muscles of her naked back as she twisted. On his far side, Brianna returned with her mouth open in raw, unstated lust, trailing her fingers along his groin while Leah continued to toy with his balls behind him. "Let's play," Nicole whispered to his dick, her fingers resting lightly on his head as her mouth opened slowly, wetly, to take his rampant penis.

That's when I nudged one of the paint cans.

It didn't fall off the shelf, thank God; it just slid an inch or so across the metal surface, but that was enough to produce a faint squeaky grating noise. None of the four writhing seniors seemed to notice, but I was already moving: in a panic, I shuffled silently off just as Nicole kissed Nelson's head, bolting for the distant boiler-room door with a strangely compulsive sense of shame. It wasn't until I was almost out, the candlelight fading behind me, that I realized I was popping the biggest boner I could remember in years.

* * *

I really did get called down to a special ed meeting about two days later, only to be greeted by a frown from Jake when I begged him to watch my class again. "Man," he shook his head, "the other day, you were down there for like twenty minutes and came back up all freaked out."

"What do you want me to say, bro?" I sighed. "It was a hellacious meeting." I'd been bone-pale when I'd come back up from the boiler room, totally shaken by what I'd seen down there. At the end of the period, when Nelson had come sauntering back in, I'd just taken his purple pass without speaking. The couple of days in between hadn't made me feel any better about what I'd seen, which I was starting to convince myself was something that couldn't have possibly actually happened. No way.

Could it?

Because if it had, I'd definitely have to report it. Definitely. So, of course, it was easier just to pretend I'd seen nothing.

Still, just today, after lunch, Mikey Choi had come back with that smell on him and that loose-limbed sluggishness as he dropped his purple pass on my desk, and I'd been catapulted straight back there. So, slowly, I was coming around to some uncomfortable realizations.

That was my state of mind as I came down to the conference room off the main office, where they liked to have the special education meetings; the idea was that they brought together parents, teachers, special ed liaisons, and Guidance to figure out how our problem children were faring. The email advertising the meeting had specified 1:15, and normally they only kept the classroom teachers for a few minutes, so I'd shown up a little late.

It was like an Old West saloon scene when I walked in, where the piano stops tinkling and everyone cranes their heads toward the door as the gringo walks through. I stood nervously in the conference room doorway, looking at a table full of people and one empty seat.

The one right next to Alex Anthony, the Guidance representative.

Last time I'd seen her she'd been a disembodied face, floating backward into the shadows of the boiler room after disrobing Nicole Cross. Now she sat upright with a demure pair of hands crossed in her lap, making the cheap office chair look like a throne. I tore my eyes away and offered a handshake to the parents. "Hi. Sean Deemer. I teach senior English?"

"Take a seat, Sean," trilled the liaison, a bubbly little thing who'd been hired about two years ago. She looked and acted like a twelve-year-old. "We'll have you out of here in just a sec." I forced a smile and took the vacant seat, trying hard not to look at the hint of cleavage Alex had allowed herself.

I passed at once into a cloud of beguiling perfume, all musk and citrus with a subtle thread of that spice I remembered vividly from the smell of the candles in the boiler room. It was heavy in my nostrils, moving in like a troop of boyscouts and then setting up camp in there, and right away I found myself blinking thickly. I glanced over at Alex. "Are you okay, Sean?" she asked, her voice the faintest whisper as she leaned close to me.

"Fine," I mumbled back, and then I blinked away my sudden confusion and launched into my spiel, the one I normally trotted out at these meetings: your son/daughter is capable of being a hard worker, but there are definite problems with his/her work ethic that are jeopardizing his/her term/semester/final grade; however, it's not too late to salvage a passing score if he/she gets that Chapter Five study guide for Beowulf turned in by next Tuesday/Wednesday... These things went like clockwork, which was good because Alex was leaning into me the entire time, her scent wrapping around me.

It seemed, almost, that I could hear her voice in my ear, drifting into my consciousness on her warm breath: Are you sure you're okay, Sean? All at once I felt her leg moving against mine, my slacks plucking at the texture of what felt like fishnet stockings. Are you sure? Do you need me to help you with anything? I risked a sideways glance to catch her eyes squarely on me, looming massively, seeming to swallow me. I'd love to be there for you, Sean...

"Great! Is there anything else, Mr Deemer?" The liaison was gazing brightly at me, the parents across the table studying the scratches in its surface. I shook my head, conscious of her voice in my head and the rhythm of her foot against my leg.

"Uh, no. I'm good." The corner of my eye showed me Alex, a silver pen scratching busily across a little piece of purple stationery in curious looping whorls that, as she slid the paper over to me, resolved into ornate calligraphy.

I wish to join you for lunch today in your classroom. 12:30 seems acceptable.

-AA

I blinked down at the slip, thinking about the presumption it implied and the faint, insistent stirring in my dick as I realized what it meant.

* * *

"When I was a little girl," she began, her voice a low and soothing murmur, "I used to like to find things out. I was a digger. Curious. I liked knowing things." Alex turned those huge eyes of hers on me, and I felt myself falling into them already.

"Uh-huh," I replied dumbly. It seemed like I was supposed to say something. She'd come sweeping into my classroom as though she owned the place, striding boldly through my door in the knee-length skirt and fishnets she'd worn at the meeting this morning. The stockings, as I looked at them surreptitiously, weren't really fishnets: no, they were lace, in an obscure and unsettling pattern of loops and swirls. I had a hard time looking at them, despite the excellence of her legs as she stretched them confidently beneath a student desk, crossed at the ankles.

She obviously wanted me to look.

"Perhaps," she'd said as she settled in and placed a navy blue plastic tiffin box on the desk she'd selected, "we should shut the door?"

"Oh." I'd started to get to my feet, but she'd just smiled sweetly and nodded toward the hall, the two of us watching as the door swung slowly shut on its own. After that, I'd decided it might be best just to shut up and let her talk.

"Curious," she repeated slowly, setting her lunch meticulously out on the desk. She was wearing a button-up blouse, and she'd popped one of the buttons open since the special ed meeting. Her breasts glowed creamy white, peeking past the dark purple of her top. "I loved detective stories. Mysteries. I was a big-time Agatha Christie fan for awhile." She cocked her head serenely at me across my own desk. "Do you assign Christie?"

"It's not on the curriculum," I explained, feeling an obscure need to try to get on her good side. "Unfortunately."

"Mm. That is, indeed, unfortunate." She pulled out small silver fork and speared a green bean from one of her blue containers. "The point is," she went on, examining the bean, "I understand secrets." She placed the food past those full lips of hers and chewed slowly, staring at me. "You know a secret now, Sean."

Again, that strange sense that I needed to say something. Anything, just to fill the silence. "I do," I said shortly, nodding. I'd not even thought about touching my turkey and Swiss on rye. I had other things to think about: the lush curve of her lips. The smooth skin arching down to her tits. The mystery of the shadow where her legs went out of sight beneath her skirt. I cleared my throat. "It's a pretty fucking big secret, too," I finished, faking a laugh.

She nodded gravely, forking a fragment of tomato into her mouth. "Pretty fucking big," she agreed. "Like your hard-on when you left my office the other day," she added with a whimsical smirk. "Since we might as well be honest, given what you saw." She permitted herself a chuckle. "Did you know what kinds of things went on in the boiler room? I think, if you had, you'd have stayed away," she added, shaking her head. "That was bold, stepping in during my ritual."

I coughed, my penis already lurching to a repeat performance under my desk. I knew she knew it. "When did you know I was there?" I managed.

"Oh, immediately." She arched an eyebrow, chewing. "It wasn't difficult to sense you. I am Mistress of the Circle," she shrugged, as if that explained everything. "If I didn't know everything that was going on during my rituals, I'd be useless. Right?" She winked at me, her mouth set in a speculative line. "I think you're like me," she breathed. I had to lean forward to hear her. "You want to know more secrets."

I nodded, dry-mouthed, totally intrigued. I could think of nothing at all to say.

She ate a Pringle, then licked at her fingers with a small wet tongue, darting it out like a puppy's. The entire time, her eyes remained on mine. "Many women think they're magical," she began, recrossing her ankles. I watched her legs move, powerless to do anything else, the whorls on her stockings writhing, impossible to focus on yet impossible to look away from. Like her email sig. She waited to speak until I dragged my eyes back up to her face. "But some of us? Well, some of us actually are." She gave a wry smile. "Very magical, some of us."

"Yes," I nodded, speaking very quietly. "I can see that."

Her smile widened, growing pleased. "You can indeed." She was sorting carefully through her lunch, deciding what to move to next. "I'm going to make those girls just as magical," she went on. "It's what I do. I wander around, making magic." She winked now, slowly, huge lashes to go with her huge eyes. "You liked the magic I made down in the boiler room." She didn't bother waiting for me to say anything, which was just as well; she knew she was right. "If you want to see me make more magic down there, just ask." Her eyebrows arched suddenly, her mouth breaking into a snicker. "Oh! Or, don't bother asking. Just think it." She dabbed at her lips with a small handkerchief. "Or barge on in and hide behind the paint shelf again. I'll let you see more."

"Wow." I felt my own mouth twitching into a smile, but I kept it from breaking out. "Uh, thank you."

"You're always more than welcome, Sean." She winked again. "Let me tell you a few more secrets, shall I?"

"Whatever you're comfortable with." It was like I was speaking through cotton. My cock was a surging column in my pants.

She laughed gaily. "You might regret that statement one day." She was reassembling her tiffin, fitting everything together with practiced fingers. "So. Everything in the world, dear Sean, is a circle." Wordlessly, I held up my very square sandwich; I was obscurely gratified when she giggled. "Funny. But the turkey had a life cycle. The blade that sliced it is round. The holes in the cheese. Look closely at the bread; you'll see holes there as well, each one a circle, each one endless." I made a show of studying my bread, and she chuckled once more. "The circles needn't be perfect, as the universe is imperfect. But they are endless, all of them. Eternal, like the universe."

"Eternal." I sampled the word, for I had no idea how it would come out; as a croak, as a dry squeak, as a whisper. It came out sounding mostly like me, thank God.

"Like me. Like my ladies, the ones you saw." She paused. "Like you, perhaps."

I just stared. Something told me I should bite into my sandwich; when I did, I tasted sawdust.

"All things are circles, ultimately. And my ladies and I, we celebrate the Circle. We stand together, holding hands. We draw circles on the ground; we place our candles that way." She winked. "Other circles, we fill."

"Fill."

"Mouths. Assholes. Cunts." She stared straight at me on the last word, saying it flatly, boldly, no shame. She watched it take effect; I didn't move in the kinds of crowds where women enjoyed that word. "I move around. I make Circles."

I made myself smile, strangely shaken. "Then you fill them."

"I do not." She leaned forward slightly, her breasts on display. "I find men to do that for me. Men have circles of their own, of course." Her voice was rhythmic, floating with an odd, rolling lilt, almost a song. "Men have mouths. Assholes, too, but others: the curls of their pubic hair. Their pissholes. Their nostrils, flaring when they cum. Their eyes, wide with passion. Their nipples."

I was making a circle, I knew, my cock in hard, straining cross-section.

She grinned wickedly. "Of course, we've got those too. And the full, rounded breasts they crown. And?" She leaned further forward, the next button straining hard on her blouse, her eyes glittering, "sometimes, Sean, when the candles glow and the spirit moves us, our circles meet your circles." She paused, letting that hang in the air, then leaned back and stretched her legs back out. "If you'd stayed in the boiler room just a few minutes more, Sean, you'd have seen some of that." She closed her eyes, a flutter of her lashes, and took a long breath. "There was something sublime that day about the circle of Nicole Cross' mouth closing over the circle of Peter Nelson's testicle."

Holy shit. I took another wordless bite, the mustard puckering my lips.

"You could have stayed, Sean, and watched with me." She arched a plucked eyebrow. "I am proud of my ladies. They've come so far in such a short time."

I coughed again. "You work fast," I pointed out. "You only got hired, what, six weeks ago?"

"About that." She looked hard at me. "Unfortunate, Kathy Lorean's sudden injury. Such a shame." She kept up her stare until I shuddered. "But yes. I don't believe in working slowly. My standards are simple: I seek strong, able women. Women capable of being shaped. I mold them." She shrugged. "Adults, all of them. I only seek out eighteen-year-olds, both my Ladies and their boys; wouldn't do to get into legal trouble. Willing, all of them." She quirked her lips into another smirk. "Well, I say 'willing;' others might use a word like 'horny.' A lot of girls just love sex. The boys too, of course, but they know I've got the power to change their grades. So compliance hasn't been an issue so far. But I like to think my Ladies and their men are seeking something greater."

"Eternal," I coughed. "Like the universe."

"Mmm." Her eyelids flickered orgasmically. "Such a joy to find a colleague with some wit. I give them a way to empower themselves within my Circle."

I forced a pun. "Within your Circle."

She laughed loudly, her breasts shaking delightfully. "Why yes! Mine does, indeed, get filled at times. I'm impressed, Sean. Most men don't make puns when I'm clearing the air with them. Not that I usually bother to do that, but hell. You know the secret already, regardless." She sighed. "And you won't tell."

"Won't I?"

"No. You won't." She shrugged. "I know men. I know you. You want to know more. You're curious. I don't even need to ask whether I'm right about that; I know I am." She was, of course. "The Circle gives so much to my Ladies. I'll tell you a story; it might make you understand things a bit better."

I started in on the second half of my sandwich. I couldn't even taste it now, my whole body numb but for the nagging sensitivity of my cock against the inside of my boxers. She smiled warmly. "It's okay, Sean. Go ahead and adjust your penis. Don't be shy; I have little use for shy men."

"I thought not," I muttered. It was amazing, how normal it felt to reach calmly into my slacks, my dick warm and firm and moist, and drag it up straight while my coworker watched calmly. "Better."

She nodded. "Feel free to do whatever you wish with your cock. It's only natural." She winked. "You want to see a couple of my circles, I think."

"Jesus."

"No, he's the wrong person," she giggled. "But here's my story. You saw Brianna the other day, helping to prepare Peter. You must know she's dating Franco Lattner."

"Since they were sophomores," I nodded. They were Glen Avery's great love story, a self-contained soap opera.

"So. They're both eighteen now, young and beautiful and in love. And he's fucked her a dozen times, perhaps, in all sorts of different ways. He's good; he satisfies her, but one day I had him brought down here. She claimed him while the Circle watched. Know what she told me after he filled her circle?" She smiled, remembering. "The words she used were profound. Transcendent. An English teacher should appreciate words like that, I hope."

I felt myself smiling, a most un-Sean-like smile. This was the oddest conversation of my life, bar none. "Filled her circle," I murmured. "I do appreciate the power of euphemism, Ms Anthony."

"Alex, please."

"Alex."

She was nodding to herself. "I don't have to use euphemism, of course," she cooed. "I can tell you about the way his thick cock twitched while it sent his load deep inside her able young cunt." She tittered when I reached for my dick again. "His balls shook most beautifully. No, it's not euphemism, Sean. It's ritual."