First Day Of School


I was actually glad there was a little bit of my margarita left. It tasted good.

“So, did the guy ask you out?” Lisa said between sips of her wine.

“What guy?”

“The guy you were dancing with. The guy from the table. Hell, Chris. Don’t tell me you blew it.” Lisa gave me a mocking scowl. I was about seventy five percent sure she was joking.

There had been a guy. I remembered him as kind of cute. I remembered saying “Hi” and watching Lisa’s ass. That was about all I remembered.

“No, he didn’t ask me out. I guess I blew it,” I said.

“Want to go back?” Lisa asked, this time with a smile.


She laughed and put her hand on my knee. It squeezed gently before sliding off. I reached for my glass so I didn’t have to look Lisa in the eyes. The glass was empty, but the shiver that had raced through my body was gone.

“Want another?” Lisa asked.

“No way. That’s all for me tonight,” I said truthfully.

But it wasn’t the end of the dancing. We were on the floor for another set of songs, this time staying closer together. It was more crowded and we often touched each other while we moved.

It wasn’t until I was lying in bed that night that I allowed myself to think about the feeling I had when Lisa and I touched. Her hand on my knee. Our hands on the dance floor. It was electric and I didn’t know why.

I wasn’t captivated by women. They didn’t fascinate me. I wasn’t attracted to Lisa.

I could smell her perfume in the bed with me. My hand was rubbing the outside of my panties before I even realized it. I could feel the wetness begin to soak through. I moved up to my clit.

I saw Lisa’s breasts press against her shirt. The nipples were clearly hard. Her ass swayed in front of me inside of tight slacks. My fingers pressed harder against my clit.

She touched me. My hand slid inside my panties and found my clit again. It was hard and throbbing. Lisa was dancing, but now her shirt was off. She stood just inches in front of me, her gorgeous breasts rocking with the music.

My ass was off the bed as I inserted a finger into my cunt. My juices soaked it down to my fist. I put the finger on my clit and took in a deep breath. I let it out with a loud moan.

Lisa’s slacks were off. Then her panties. She was naked in front of me, reaching for my hands. She placed them on her breasts before I moved them to her pussy. I rubbed myself frantically.

Lisa started to cum. “Yes, Lisa. That’s it. Cum for me.”

My body shook hysterically. My legs stretched for the end of the bed. My hips rose and sank, trying to fuck my hand. My clit cried out to me to rub it harder…faster. I was crying out her name and cumming over and over. Her body. Her smell. Her face and hair. I came again.

“Jesus Christ, Chris.” Those were the first words I actually heard. My hands were covering my eyes. I could smell myself on my right hand and felt the moisture on my forehead.

My body stopped shaking a minute later. If I’d had a better orgasm I certainly couldn’t say when, or with whom. Guilt crept in, followed by a flood of bewilderment. What just happened? Did I just get myself off thinking of a woman I’d just met? A fucking woman?

I was asleep before any answers came to me.

Monday was the first of three days of in-service for the teachers before students arrived. I managed to put up with the good-natured kidding that was heaped upon me concerning Saturday night. Lisa and I sat together throughout the sessions and ate lunches together each day. She was a big help in wading through what I needed to know and what I could discard.

On Wednesday afternoon during a break, Lisa asked, “How about a drink tonight after this is over?”

“Just one.” I tried to keep an earnest look on my face when I said it. But when she laughed, I did too.

“Is that a yes?” Lisa inquired.

“Yes. Where?”

“O’Reilly’s on Front Street. Know where it’s at?” she asked.

“Sure. That’s a good place. No band,” I said.

“Great. How about six?”

I smiled. “I’ll be there…in jeans.”

I also wore a lace cami top with spaghetti straps that I swore I’d never wear in public. I don’t have the largest breasts in the world, but this top would make any girl look good. Stopping just above my jeans, it made me feel sexy but not quite a slut.

I arrived a few minutes before Lisa and grabbed a table away from the door. My beer and Lisa showed up about the same time. She walked through the door and stopped to look around. The outline of her figure in the jeans and tank top mesmerized me. She finally saw me and was soon seated in the chair next to me.

“Chris. You look…stunning,” she said, looking me over twice. “Wow.”

“Is it too much?”

Lisa just stared at me. “Too much what? Sexy? Flattering? Chic?”

“Yeah.” I said it as nonchalantly as I could.

Lisa laughed the laugh I was beginning to become infected with. It was an honest display of pleasure. “Girl, it’s all that. I love it.”

“Thank you. I value your opinion,” I said as a waiter came to take Lisa’s drink order.

“Aren’t you glad that in-service is over?” she asked.

“Yeah, but I did learn some stuff. I suppose the…,” I stopped just short of saying ‘older’. “…the teachers that have been around longer than me hate it.”

“Yes, the older teachers hate it.” The emphasis she placed on older got her point across, even without her dirty look.

“Sorry. I don’t consider you one of them. You’re…like me somehow. I don’t know how to explain it,” I said, sorry I had even mentioned it.

“Thanks, I guess. Just consider me a 32 year old first year teacher.”

I laughed back at her. I would move on before getting myself in further trouble.

I was beginning to learn that Lisa was an expert on not allowing the discussion to center too much on her. Several times since I’d met her she’d steered us away from topics dealing too closely with her private life or past. Little things came out, but nothing bordering on substantial.

Perhaps she was more sincerely interested in me than I gave her credit for. That would have been sweet, but I was inclined to think she just didn’t want to talk about her. One thing she’d never find out from me was that I came thinking about her. Not until she admitted to the same about me, and that question wasn’t going to be asked by me.

We left after about ninety minutes. Outside the bar she wished me luck on my first day with kids. The next thing I knew I was hugging her, thanking her for her help. It just seemed like the natural thing to do. We said goodbye and headed our separate ways.

I arrived early for the first day of school. I stopped in the office and checked my mailbox, which contained a small, wrapped box. Despite the urge to open it, I gathered the rest of my stuff and headed for Room 12…Miss Spivey’s third grade classroom.

I put my bag and purse on the desk and sat to open the box. Inside the plain white box was a small piece of paper folded in half. I opened it. “Chris. Congratulations and good luck. Lisa”

Under the note and a piece of cotton was a lovely gold necklace with an apple pendant. My hands trembled as I took it from the box. I held it up for a second before placing around my neck and latching it in place. I tucked it inside my blouse and held it in place with my hand. Two tears ran down my cheeks before I could wipe them away.

I rushed to prepare the room before allowing more tears to flow. I sniffled and heard, “Hey, kid. Today’s the day.”

Lisa was holding all her stuff in both arms, smiling ear to ear.

“I’m ready…I think,” I said.

“I know you are. You’ll do great.”

She turned to cross the hall.

“Hey, Lisa,” I yelled after her. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

She had a blank look for a second, until I reached for my necklace.

“Oh,” she finally said. “I hope you like it.”

“I love it.” And I did. Nobody bought me stuff. No boyfriend had ever done anything nearly as nice. I DID love it.

The day went smoother than I expected. The kids were great and none were left over when the busses pulled out at the end of the day. The troublesome kids were easy to pick out and I expected to be able to handle them. All and all, the day was a success.

I twirled the necklace around my finger and, in the privacy of my room, kissed the little apple. Sitting back in my chair, the tension of the day flowed out of me. I closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing. But Lisa’s perfume wouldn’t let me.

“Want to do it again tomorrow?”

She had got me again. I snapped my eyes open and jerked my head around to look at the door. “Yes, I do. And are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“What?” she asked, her hands spreading open beside her.

“You know what. You wait until I’m not looking, I swear.” I smiled to make sure she knew I wasn’t too serious.

“It’s my way of preparing you for kids.”

“I don’t want any kids,” I said. As soon as the words came out, I knew what she meant. “I mean, I don’t want to HAVE kids. I do want kids in here.”

She laughed as hard as I’d ever heard her laugh. She looked down the hall. “Hey, Linda. Chris doesn’t want any kids,” she yelled.

“Lisa Owens. Stop it.”


“Anyway,” I said, “I believe you need a man to have kids and the chances of that aren’t very good right now.”

“You could have had that guy at the club last week,” Lisa said enthusiastically.

“Yeah, right. For an hour. Then he’s gone and I never see him again. No thanks.”

Lisa didn’t answer. What the young teacher was saying was all too familiar and cutting. Too many men had entered Lisa’s life when she was younger and too many of them vanished overnight.

She’d only had one man since and that was more friendship than love. That, too, didn’t last. She found women to be more caring, compassionate and comforting. And better lovers.

“Listen, Chris. How about stopping by my place on Saturday. We’ll watch a video and just relax. No kids,” Lisa said.

“OK. I’d like that,” I said. “I’ll try not to ask too many stupid school questions.”

Lisa leaned against the doorframe, her hips bending out like a model posing. “Oh, don’t worry. If we’re lucky we won’t talk about school at all.”

“What time and what do you want me to bring?” I asked.

“How about seven or so and I’ll buy. No big deal.”

A date. I hadn’t actually looked forward to a date in so long I couldn’t remember the last time. However, driving home I debated with myself on whether it really was a date. A co-worker had asked me over. That’s hardly a date. Why did I consider Lisa asking me over a date?

I decided I spent too much time trying to figure such things out.

I survived the first week of school and headed into the weekend with a pretty good attitude. Saturday morning I cleaned my apartment and looked at some of the kids’ papers. In the afternoon I shopped and watched TV, anxious for the evening to arrive.

I showered after eating dinner and put on a touch of herbal body splash, thinking it didn’t smell nearly as nice as Lisa’s perfume. Choosing what to wear wasn’t all that difficult. Jeans would do, of course. I threaded my sash belt through a couple of loops and tied it in place just off-center in the front.

Now the top. And bra or no bra? This was becoming more difficult. The conservative me took over and I put on a sheer bra. But when I pulled out a tank top I liked—and remembering how much Lisa liked my cami—the naughty me took off the bra and slid on the top.

I adjusted the straps and looked in the mirror. Cleavage wasn’t my strong point, but you could tell I had breasts. I loved the way this top felt against my nipples and decided it was good enough for watching a video with Lisa.

The first indication to Lisa that she was excited about having me over was when she opened her “special occasion” underwear drawer. She peered in for a second before moving some of the silky, small objects aside. There it was. She pulled out a black thong and spread the straps apart. One leg at a time, she stepped into it and pulled it up. The straps snapped into place and she ran her fingers down the inside of the front until it was just right.

Lisa turned to the side and looked at herself in the mirror. The health club membership was worth every penny. She had a spectacular ass and waist, which she fretted over and worked on constantly. The strap of her thong was hidden between the cheeks of her ass and she squeezed them together with glee.

She pulled on jeans that clung to her like skin and removed a shirt from its hanger. Not just any shirt. This was her floral sheer—no, make that see thru—shirt with patterns that concealed the nipples and that was about all. Lisa tucked it into her jeans and looked once again into the mirror.

Very nice. She unbuttoned one more button at the top and looked again. Perfect. Her last act in the bedroom was to spray herself, as she always did, with Giorgio.

Lisa checked the refrigerator. She had beer, wine and all the ingredients for margaritas. She had made a small meat and cheese tray and planned on making popcorn later. She was ready.

I arrived a few minutes past seven, anxious to see the inside of Lisa’s condo. She had described it as a hole in the wall, but I suspected otherwise.

“You made it. Come on in,” Lisa said cheerfully as soon as the door opened.

A kitchen and eating space opened up on the right with a hallway straight ahead and stairs on the left. At the end of the hall was a bright, open great room.

“Wow. This is a great place, Lisa,” I said.

She put her hand on my back and led me down the hall.

“Thanks. It’s all I need,” she said.

A cathedral ceiling rose overhead as we got to the living area. A dining room on the right spilled into the family room with its stone fireplace. I looked up and saw a loft behind a beautiful wood railing running the length of one wall.

“Lisa, this is gorgeous. I’m so envious.”

It wasn’t until then that I had a chance to really look at my hostess. She looked stunning in her shirt and jeans. Somewhere in my mind it registered that there was nothing under the shirt. And a strange sensation ran through me. It was somewhere between excitement and lust.

“Chris, you have the most beautiful shirts. I love that on you,” Lisa was saying to me.

“Oh, thanks,” I said. “I assumed this wasn’t formal tonight.”

Lisa laughed. “Hardly. I don’t do formal very well.”

We decided to share some wine and I followed Lisa to the kitchen. She handed me the meat and cheese tray and I carried that back to the living room as she poured the wine. She joined me a few seconds later and we sat on opposite ends of the couch.

As we talked, ate and drank, I was absorbed in studying the woman’s features. Her blonde hair, of course, was perfect without looking phony. Her eyes and nose and mouth were faultless. And looking at her from the side when she reached for more cheese, the outline of her breasts appeared under her shirt. Although disrupted intermittently by the floral patterns, the natural beauty of the breasts was evident.

This woman was every man’s dream and she was sitting here on a Saturday night with me. The pieces of the puzzle were still scattered on the table when it came to Lisa, but patterns were emerging. I wouldn’t worry about the big picture until later. Right now I was enjoying looking at the pieces.

Lightning from several miles away flashed outside a window. It was nearly dark and the effect was eerie. Several seconds later the faint rumble of thunder could be heard. As Lisa refilled our glasses, I walked to the largest window and looked out.

“Go ahead and pull those shades,” Lisa shouted from the kitchen.

I closed them and met her near the couch.

“I don’t mind storms. Do you?” she asked.

“No. Not until they become severe. Then I worry, sometimes,” I said without hiding my childish fears.

“If it gets worse, you can stay until it’s over,” she said calmly.

“I just might.”

Lisa had rented the video of Chicago and we put it on after talking some more. She made some microwave popcorn and we sat barefoot on the couch with out legs tucked under us and pillows by our side.

Bright flashes of lightning and loud claps of thunder outside accompanied the film. Rain pounded against the windows in torrents as the wind howled. This was a typical spring storm in early autumn. I was glad to be with somebody.

“Man. It’s really…,” Lisa started to say. Then a blinding bolt of lightning was followed by total darkness and a deafening roar of thunder.

“Oh, shit,” Lisa cried.

Only the light from the non-stop lightning illuminated the room. I saw Lisa stand up.

“I’ll get a flashlight and some candles. You stay right there,” she said.

I didn’t even offer to help. I felt like such a little kid as Lisa rummaged in the kitchen. I heard her returning and turned to see her walking down the hall with a flashlight and an armful of stuff.

She bent down and laid matches, candles and another flashlight on the couch where she sat. The candles were the scented candles in small, round glass containers.

“Put a couple candles on the table and light them. OK?” she asked.

I quickly lit two candles as she put a third on the end table. Already the room was faintly brighter and much “friendlier”. Lisa stood in front of the couch and reached down for her wine.

“Well. So much for watching Chicago,” she said.

I laughed a weak, nervous laugh. “That’s OK. It’s not your fault.”

Another huge crack of thunder followed a brilliant flash of lightning. Lisa sat on the couch close to me.

“You OK?”

“Yes. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. As long as I’m with someone…,” I said sounding very unconvincing, I’m sure.

“OK. I’ll stay then,” Lisa said.

I laughed again. We watched the light of the candles combine with the light show outside. It was actually very relaxing. Or was that the wine?

At some point I realized Lisa was silently gazing at me. I met her eyes.

“Chris, I’m really glad you’re at the school. I think we’ll have a good year, don’t you?” she asked in the semi-darkness between lightning strikes.

“I hope so. I’m afraid of screwing up, but with you around to help I should be OK.”

“I keep telling you. You’ll do fine,” she said.

I looked at her and smiled in lieu of saying anything else. Her hair and eyes glowed even in the candlelight. We just sat and looked at each other for a second, but it seemed to last forever.

Another lightning flash seemingly right outside the condo caused me to jump. Lisa scooted over a foot or so on the couch until we were close enough to touch each other. She put her hand on my leg.

“Relax, Chris. I’m here.”

I put my hand on hers and squeezed it. She turned her hand over until our palms met. Then our fingers intertwined and we held each other tight. I looked into her face again. She was already looking at me, but not with a smile. It was a contented look. Peaceful.

She brought my hand to her mouth and kissed it.

“It’ll be alright.”

A chill ran through me. She put my hand on her cheek and my entire body felt like it was being drawn to her. I leaned towards her.

Lisa let go of my hand and reached out her arm. I fell into it slowly. She put it around my shoulder and we slid our bodies closer together. My head was on her shoulder before I even knew what was happening.

Nothing was said. We sat and watched and listened. Then I smelled her perfume. It surrounded me. It was as if I’d entered another room—a safe, bright room.

Lisa’s hand slid up and down my arm, then moved to my hair. She pulled my head harder against her shoulder. Softly…gently…she kissed the top of my head.

I looked up at her and turned my head so I was facing her. We were less than a foot apart. I could hear her breathe. I saw her sensual lips part. And I wanted to kiss her.

Our lips met while my eyes were closed. The shock of the contact made me flinch, but I kept in contact with her. Neither of us attempted to make the kiss anything more than it was.

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