In a Class of His Own Ch. 07

- "Mrs. Harden." I said.

- "No. I mean when they don't use my last name." she said.

- "Miss." That was universal. Students avoid long names, or names that are hard to pronounce. Male teachers are 'Sir', and female teachers are 'Miss'. Always. You can correct them a hundred times, but they automatically revert to these default settings.

- "It's the reverse in French class, Rook." said Antonia. Then she started laughing again.

It took a moment for that to sink in. Madame is shorter, and easier to say than Mademoiselle. I couldn't remember if all of my own French teachers were married. I just assumed that they were ... because we called them all Madame.

Even if Chantal insisted that the students call her Mademoiselle, most would still go with Madame. Antonia laughed again as she saw comprehension finally dawning on my face.

- "Are you sure?" I asked.

- "Look at her hand when she comes in, tomorrow. Rook."

- "Antonia - you can't tell her."

She got serious for a moment. "I wouldn't do that to you, Chris. But I intend to laugh my ass off every time I think about it."

The very next day, when Chantal arrived to take over my class, I asked her if I could speak to her, briefly, at the end of the day. She looked at me oddly, for a moment - I guess she had heard Suzanne's story.

- "Oui. OK." she said. And yes: I glanced at her hand. No ring. I'm an idiot.

I only had a few minutes, at the end of the day. My hockey team had a practice at the local rink. Nelson was my assistant coach - he could unlock the dressing room, but if I wasn't there at the start of practice, chaos would ensue.

Chantal was curious. But after I had turned her down three times, she probably wasn't expecting much. I spoke to her in English, for the sake of keeping it short - and accurate.

- "I owe you an apology." I began. "You must have thought I was insane - and you'll know that I am when I finish my little story."

"Chantal - I thought you were married."

- "Married? Me?"

- "The students call you Madame. I thought ..."

Chantal looked at me in disbelief. "But, Chris - all of the students call me that."

- "I know that now." I said. "I feel like such an idiot."

- "Wait - you thought I was married, because the students call me Madame?"

- "I know - it sounds stupid -"

Chantal surprised me by throwing her head back, and bursting into laughter. She was not a giggler. She was a full-throttle, no holds barred belly laugher. I thought she might injure herself.

- "Oh ... Oh - that's too good!" she said.

- "I know. I'm an idiot."

That set her off again. Chantal laughed until she was near tears. I waited. When she was done, I apologized again.

"I'm so sorry. If I had known you were single, I would have accepted the very first time you suggested that we go for coffee. Please ... let me make it up to you. Can I take you to dinner?" I asked.

- "Are you sure?" she said, with a twinkle in her eye.

- "Very sure. I have so much more apologizing to do."

- "I'll think about it." she said

OK - I deserved that.

***

The following day, Chantal handed me a card with her phone number on it. I called her that night. She laughed some more, over the phone, but she also agreed to have dinner with me.

Antonia was probably just as thrilled as I was.

- "I win the pool!" she said, pumping her fist in the air.

- "There is no pool, is there?"

- "No - but it was fun to make you think there was." she said.

Chantal was unusual, in many respects. She was 6' tall, for one thing. Her black hair was long enough to hang all the way to her hips. I had thought that Suzanne had a nice combination of dark hair and light eyes - but Chantal had black hair, and blue eyes. And the shape of her eyes was something else.

She looked so exotic. People often guessed that she was Polish, or Ukrainian, because of her high cheekbones, but Chantal was from Quebec. In fact, her hometown was less than an hour from mine. If you've never been to Quebec, or met any Quebecois, here's a fun fact: the girls are awesome.

She laughed for the first 15 minutes of our date, still enjoying my Madame/Mademoiselle gaffe.

- "I had to phone home, and tell my grandmother." she said. "That's too good a story not to share."

Once she settled down, though, Chantal turned out to be excellent company. She was well-educated, and well-read. But she was also fun, and fun-loving. And the more I studied her at close range, the more I became aware of how beautiful she was.

As Antonia had said, I only 'sneaked a peek' at Chantal every now and then. She was quite striking. Her full lips were particularly appealing. But her eyes were simply mesmerizing.

We shared reminiscences of places we both knew. She was fairly sure that I had played hockey against her younger brother's team. She was thrilled to learn that I liked Harmonium and Fiori Seguin - music she had grown up with.

- "You know," she said, "I've been here for three years, and I've been homesick quite a bit. And lonely, too. The people here are very nice, but it's different when you can talk to someone who knows what the St Jean Baptiste is, or who cheers for the Canadiens instead of the Leafs."

"And I haven't met anyone here who's been to Europe, like you have. I want to hear all of your stories, and all of your impressions."

- "That might require a second date." I said.

- "Are you asking?" she said.

- "I certainly am."

I was surprised by how quickly I had changed my mind. Chantal had been an attractive, married woman - and therefore off-limits - only a week ago. Now she was an exotic possibility, a tantalizing prospect.

- "Well, there's always Sunday ... if you want to take me to the flea market." she said.

At that point, I would have taken her to a Church bingo game. If that seems quick, remember that I was lonely, as she was. I had been working like a dog, with next to no social life. And my sex life had been entirely solo since my visit with Nina - 7 months ago.

She was thrilled to have someone to speak French to. I spoke both French and English to her. It reminded me of my conversations with Celine - which now seemed like a long time ago. With Chantal, though, the cultural gap wasn't so wide.

Chantal let me kiss her goodnight - on the cheek. Our roles had been completely reversed. I had turned her down three times, but she clearly held the whip hand now.

She wasn't cruel, though. After two hours at the flea market, Chantal took me for a few beers at a small Craft brewery she had discovered. The conversation flowed easily, and naturally.

- "I want to ask, this time - and have you say yes, for a change. How about next Saturday? You come chez moi, and we can listen to my records - Harmonium, of course, and Beau Dommage. Are you free, Chris?"

- "I wouldn't miss it for the world." I said.

That Saturday was Valentine's day. The students were hyper-silly that Friday. Chantal knew very well what day it was when she invited me over. If this was a test, then I passed with flying colours.

I brought flowers, and a card - the kind you gave to the girl with the ponytails, the one you'd had a crush on all through Grade 6. But I found one in French. I also skipped the chocolates, and brought a bottle of red wine.

- "Oh! That will go well with pizza." she said.

Chantal didn't dress down - no sweatpants or old t-shirt. Instead, she wore a little black skirt that barely covered her privates. At 6' tall, that left a lot of leg exposed. When she sat next to me on her couch, it was almost impossible not to look.

She still had a turntable - most people our age did - and a collection of records in an old milk container. When she bent over to select an album, I nearly choked. Chantal wasn't wearing underwear. Well, she was - but underwear unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was a thong, and it left her ass cheeks bare.

When she turned around to look at me, Chantal had a little grin on her face. She knew exactement what she was doing.

She might have been planning to seduce me after we had eaten. In any event, we didn't make it that far. She was showing me pictures in a photo album, and leaned across me to point at one on the opposite page. I felt the pressure of her braless breast on my arm, and the warmth of her breath on my cheek.

When I turned my head, her face was only inches from mine. Kissing her was a treat. Chantal had soft, supple lips, and a very active tongue. We necked on the couch for a while, before I started stripping her, with her willing help.

She wasn't very chesty, but she had lovely, perky nipples. Her ass was delightful, and she was justifiably proud of it - and of her long, long legs.

I ate her on the couch, with her legs over my shoulder, or straight up in the air - she shifted her position as the mood took her. She had a tuft of jet black hair just above her pussy, but kept her lips neatly shaved.

Chantal was very vocal, too. She swore fluently - in French - or called on a whole platoon of Saints, one at a time. Strangely enough, it didn't distract me at all. She came loudly, and wrapped her legs around me like twin pythons.

She somehow twisted us around, so that she was on top. Chantal pulled the rest of my clothes off, and took a firm hold of my dick. She treated it like an ice cream cone, at first, lapping at the head, and licking up and down both sides.

Chantal was very talented with her mouth. She brought me to the brink of orgasm, then kept me there, for a few seconds, before letting me reach a thunderous climax. I fired copious jets of semen into her mouth, and she gulped it all down.

- "Stay." she said, before leaving for the washroom. She came back with a warm washcloth, and wiped my cock and balls. When she kissed me, I discovered that she had also use mouthwash. I'm not shy about kissing a woman who's just gone down on me, but it was an interesting gesture on her part.

- "Should I order the pizza now?" she asked. "Or ...?"

- "The condoms are in my pocket." I said.

She kissed me, and continued fondling my balls and stroking my cock, while I played with her nipples. I was ready to go again in no time.

We started in the missionary position. The sight of Chantal, with her long, long legs in the air as I thrust into her from above, is one of my favourite erotic memories. Then she asked to be taken from behind, doggy style, while she knelt on the couch.

She was an outstanding sexual partner, and it was a glorious fuck. When we had settled down, still naked, Chantal kissed me on the cheek. She was smiling.

- "Merci." she said.

- "I should be thanking you." I said.

- "No - you've done me a great service, today." she said.

Chantal explained that her first serious boyfriend - to whom she had given her virginity - had dumped her on Valentine's Day.

- "That's awful." I said. "Why would he do that?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Since then, Valentine's Day has always made me sad. But now I have a much more pleasant memory for February 14th."

We ate pizza, and talked about anything and everything, including sex. Chantal was remarkably open about her preferences, and admitted to having a powerful libido.

- "It wasn't always so strong." she said. "But the closer I get to 30, the more I want."

- "I might be able to help you with that." I said.

- "I was hoping you could. Maybe ... after the dishes are done?"

We had eaten off napkins - there were no dishes.

Chantal took me into her bedroom, where we put the final seal on a very satisfying Valentine's Day.

***

Chantal and I didn't make a big production of our relationship, but our colleagues soon figured it out, starting with Antonia. She saw the look Chantal and I exchanged.

- "You dog." she said. "When did this happen?"

People saw us together. It wasn't that a big a town. Pretty soon, everybody knew. I think that they were all happy for us, with the exception of Suzanne, and Ed - who had been dying to get his hands on Chantal for three years.

The principal called us in for a lecture on "the moral tone" of the school. Antonia put it much more simply. "Just don't do anything stupid." she said. Chantal and I both understood. Fortunately, neither of us was given to excessive PDAs (Public Displays of Affection).

In private, though ... Chantal liked sex. And, lucky bastard that I am, she liked sex with me. She invited me over quite often. Sometimes she greeted me in bra and panties, complaining that the heat in her apartment was set too high. That particular invitation led to a doggy style romp on the floor - with carpet burns for both of us.

She also had a one-piece track suit, with a zipper down the front ... It just wasn't fair. She would play with the zipper, leaving me in no doubt that she was wearing absolutely nothing beneath it.

Almost all of my free time was spent with her. It did wonders for my morale, but I had to work my ass off to stay ahead of my students. I never shirked my work, no matter the cost. I even turned down invitations from Chantal on more than one occasion. She was a veteran teacher, and her lesson plans had been battle-tested. I was a rookie, and virtually every lesson I taught was for the first time.

Chantal also changed my plans in a very significant way. In our letters, Nina and I had floated the idea that we might see each other in March, during the school break. I wrote her a letter, explaining why I wouldn't be coming to visit her.

I could have driven to Cleveland in less than six hours. But I wasn't about to cheat on Chantal. She didn't deserve that. I hadn't told her about Nina, because I didn't see any reason to. Your girlfriend doesn't need to see a four-hour documentary entitled 'My Sexual History'. I certainly didn't want to know about the guys Chantal had banged before me.

But I also phoned Nina, and told her.

- "I wanted to come and see you, over the March Break." I said. "But I can't."

- "Too much work?" she asked.

- "No. I mean, I do have tons of work, but I could have done a lot while I visited you. No, it's ... I'm seeing someone. We just started dating."

- "Good for you!" said Nina. She sounded enthousiastic, and genuinely pleased for me.

- "I thought about coming anyway." I said. "I'd much rather see you than my family. But I'm not sure that I could keep it platonic. If I saw that sheepskin in front of your fireplace, I'm not sure that I could resist the temptation."

- "I could roll it up, and hide it in my closet." said Nina. "But no - I understand. You have to do right by your new girlfriend. What's her name?"

I described Chantal, briefly. Did Nina really want to hear this?

- "There's a letter on the way, with a lot more detail on what I've been doing. I'm sorry I didn't write in January - things got a little crazy."

- "Don't worry about that, Chris." she said. "I never expected that you'd write me a letter every month for life. I'm amazed that you kept up that pace as long as you did."

- "I just wanted you to know ... the real reason why I won't be coming." I said.

- "You can always tell me the truth, Chris." she said. "That never gets old."

It was an odd phone call. I couldn't help feeling that I had left something important unsaid. Or that Nina had.

***

I went home for March Break. Chantal was going home, too, so there was no reason to stick around. I got over to Steve's as soon as I could.

Steve and Kim were solid. We had a beer in his basement, and he told me all about it.

- "I don't know what happened." he said. "All of a sudden, I could talk to her - and I couldn't even remember what the problem was."

- "So you're good?"

- "Better than good." he said. "What about you?"

I told him about Chantal. In fact, I told him about everything since Christmas. Suzanne, Nina - and how happy I was with Chantal.

- "That's awesome!" said Steve. "Listen - while you're here, let's double date again. Kim really enjoyed it, and Sarah always asks about you. What do you think?"

- "Sounds like fun."

It was. But not as much fun as the first time. Kim was more forthcoming, but Sarah was strangely quiet. She had changed her hairstyle - which I noticed - and lost five pounds - which I didn't notice. We had a good time, but it could have been better.

I wanted to tell my parents about my job, my students, and my classroom. But they really weren't interested. Mom asked if I was seeing anyone, and I made the mistake of mentioning Chantal. To my parents, seeing a French-Canadian was akin to selling secrets to the Soviets. They were not happy.

That set me off, and I said some things which violated the 6th commandment. I ended up leaving a day early.

***

Chantal had a much better break than I did. She told me more about her Nana - her grandmother, and her large family. Then she fucked my brains out, straddling me on her couch. I'm not sure why, but she seemed to prefer her couch to her bed, when it came to lovemaking.

I became utterly addicted to Chantal. I could look at her face for hours. She never failed to turn me on. We had great sex virtually every time we got together. And it wasn't all fucking.

One night, Chantal put on a Harmonium record - Cinquieme Saison (5th season) - and we made love while it played. I say 'made love' deliberately, because I could tell the difference. You only have to listen to the record to understand. It was beautiful. Our lovemaking was passionate, but tender.

I was falling for Chantal, and I think that she was heavily into me. That was why our conversation in May caught me by surprise.

We got together at my place - a rarity - and she handed me a letter. I had to read it twice, because it was in French. It was a job offer. I looked up at Chantal.

- "It's in Montreal." she said.

That was nearly seven hours drive from where we were.

"It's a full-time position." she said. "Grade 5."

- "In French?" I asked.

- "Oui."

Just like that, I knew that we were done. Chantal had been praying for a classroom of her own. This job would be an hour away from her family. It was a no-brainer.

- "You have to take it." I said. "It's ideal."

- "I know." she said. "But what about ... us?"

In that instant, I showed true, selfless courage. I was proud of myself, afterwards.

- "You have to go." I said.

- "Really?"

- "Chantal - a class of your own. And an hour away from your family."

I smiled, and touched her cheek.

"You are the best thing that's happened to me this year. I love my job, and I love my students - but you are ... unbelievable."

Chantal began to cry.

"Don't be sad. This sounds like the job you've been waiting for. How can you say no?"

- "It feels like a mixed blessing." she said. "I meet you, after a few years alone, and the job I always wanted finally comes along. It's not fair."

- "Look at the bright side. At least I figured out the difference between Madame and Mademoiselle before you got this offer."

***

One more thing happened in May. Eva got caught blowing some guy in the back of her car. Unfortunately, the person who saw her was our vice-principal.

It was all hushed up, of course - meaning that everybody on staff knew the whole story by the end of the next day. Eva was encouraged to ask for a transfer.

Jobs were hard to come by, but somehow, they found her a spot on the other side of Toronto. Apparently some assistant-something in our Board called in a favor.

June was very busy for me, and in July I had to take a summer course, to upgrade my qualifications, and get into a higher pay scale. August would be quieter, and I began to consider my options.

I called Nina, and told her that I was thinking of coming for a visit.

- "What about Chantal?" she asked.

- "She got a job in Montreal." I explained all the details.