Malleable

Tosha had grown up here, had gone to Happy Valley herself. Now, she was back with a new degree, teaching credential, and her first real job as a teacher. She could picture Sara's impatient pout, and her mother's aggrieved, privileged string-pulling, allowing the girl to go through the graduation ceremony with the rest of her class, even though she still needed this one last 'stupid art credit' to actually receive her diploma. And that meant summer school. At least the girl seemed to get along well with Coco Bouvier, the transfer with the mischievous worldliness flashing from huge brown eyes and a knowing half-smile that was uncomfortably close to intimidating. Due to a scheduling mishap, the two were the only students sharing the advanced art studio time and Tosha's only students for the summer session.

"Hard." Coco nodded. "Really hard."

"From a kiss? On the lips?" Tosha suppressed a giggle. She could picture Sara looking over the frames of her lensless black-framed fashion glasses, realizing her question didn't clarify things all that much, and the slender, tall beauty with the creamy brown skin raising one eyebrow.

Sara rephrased, exasperated. "On the mouth?"

Tosha edged forward. She could see both girls huddled close, turned toward the front of the classroom. They couldn't see her unless they turned.

Coco's pink tongue showed, pressed against her upper teeth as she nodded. "He blew the smoke right into my lungs, holding my mouth next to his. Then we were kissing, his arms pulling me tight against him. It's like his whole attention was locked, focused on me and only me. I didn't even feel it building up, or anything; I just came against him. Like full on, ending-up-on-the-floor-quivering-in-a-puddle came."

Her head fell back, and her lean form gave a brief, full body shake followed by a buckle of the knees to illustrate her story, slumping down in her chair.

"Wow." Sara glanced toward the new art teacher as Tosha re-entered the classroom, trying to stroll casually to her desk. Sara's cheeks burned a bright crimson; Tosha hoped her own face wasn't flushed to match. She felt warm, out of breath, her heart loud in her ears.

Both girls turned their attention to the gold foiling projects they had been working on. Tosha had demonstrated the extreme malleability of genuine, 24k gold earlier. Using a jeweler's hammer to pound a small pellet of the soft precious metal into a thin, flimsy sheet that spread across the small anvil's face.

Any other metal would grow brittle, work-harden, crack, needing to be annealed. Not gold. And one advantage of having only two students was finding room in her class budget for the small fraction of an ounce of the precious metal that allowed both girls to have their own small sample to experiment with. At the end of class, all samples would be returned to the locked section of the art supply cabinet.

She tried to finish the notes she had been working on earlier but her pen doodled aimlessly, the ballpoint wearing a blue hole in the notepad. A whirl of impressions scattered clear thought. Feelings of vague but vital loss. Embarrassment, teen lust and animal arousal. Humiliation and, again, loss. A part of her missing, that she long struggled to keep buried.

I came. Hard. From a kiss.

He blew smoke into my lungs, taking control.

Coco's whispered revelation brought it back, at least parts of it. Details were still rushing in, connecting to other fragments.

Tosha kept her head down as the heat rose even higher, one hand squeezing down on the padded arm of her office chair. A trickle of sweat down her back matched the flush she felt on cheeks and throat. Her pride in not squirming was matched by unexpected, undeniably pleasant warmth between her thighs.

It was what...eight years ago? She'd been a senior at Happy Valley.

———

Tony Garcia had been new in school that year, though much of his family had lived in Chico for years. Dark, broody, bright and sarcastic, and more than eager to challenge the same teachers Tosha only wanted to feed the right answers to, get the right grades from.

Tony's wide-placed eyes, over those high, bold cheek bones, had been deep as old mahogany. She remembered how they twinkled when he knew he had a teacher caught in the web of his questions and their own unsupported assertions; the small smile that curled only the outermost corners of his full, luxurious lips when the instructors first recognized the surrounding web about to close around them.

How could Tony, beautiful, intimidating Tony, have slipped her mind?

He only attended the local High School for a couple months before he disappeared. Rumor said it was to jail, though those who spread the rumors couldn't agree on any other details. Dealing drugs. Beating up his father, or a cop, or both. He made a bomb. Everyone had an answer; no one knew.

The only good part of his sudden departure and the colorful rumors that swirled around it was that the school's attention was no longer focused on the outcome of Tosha's own secret association with the mysterious young man.

Until that fateful Saturday, the two had barely spoken. Tosha was studious and a stellar athlete, First Singles on the school tennis team, and she'd qualified for State Championships in the Mile at Track and Field. Tony didn't seem close to anyone at school. The Goths seemed intimidated by his less superficial darkness, what passed for gangbangers couldn't quite figure out Garcia's loyalties or lack of them. He treated red and blue as merely two primary colors, half of purple, without further significance.

After a 5-0 sweep on the tennis courts Friday afternoon, the coach had given the team Saturday off from practice. Instead of drilling serves, volleys and groundstrokes, Tosha has gone for a run along the shady trails that wound through the long strip of riparian park that followed the nearly dry creek which bisected town. The waters wouldn't flow with any authority until the winter rains started, usually around Halloween.

The late afternoon still clung to Indian summer warmth and sweat ran down her back, dampened her thin jog bra. She didn't see the tall figure heading away from one of the many quiet picnic areas by the water until he stepped onto the main path. She stutter-stepped around the sudden obstacle.

"Hi!" The voice wasn't deep, but had a pleasant, familiar resonance.

Tosha was close to anger at the interruption, spoiling the meditative zone she entered when running. She looked up at the intruder. Tony Garcia brushed his long bangs from his face with the back of his fingers. She was surprised to see a wide friendly grin light his usually taciturn face.

"You're in my English class. And...calculus? It's Tosha, right? I'm Tony."

"I know. Everyone knows who you are." He looked puzzled at her response, the brooding look returning.

Tosha was breathing a little hard, hands on her hips as her body adjusted from exertion to an unexpected stop. Her heart felt like it was racing more than the run alone would have caused. She explained with a shrug. "You're new. You make teachers very uncomfortable. You don't seem to fit in with any group or mind that you don't."

And you're hot.

———

"Hey. Wanna meet him?" Coco's throaty voice cut through Tosha's recollection.

"Who?"

The girls were standing, packing belongings into backpacks before they were slung over young shoulders. Where had the last hour gone? She blew out a slow breath before trying to speak. "Alright, ladies. Bring your gold foiling projects over to the lock up before you rush out."

"McAlister. My landlord." Back to attempting a whisper. Tosha turned away from the two, but strained to hear, following an urge that was close to a suddenly awakened gnawing hunger. "I bet he likes cutie pie virgins like you. And I dunno for sures, but I just might share him with you."

"I'm not a..." Coco cut off Sara indignant protest immediately.

"Don't." One slim palm was up, out. "Just don't. If you start lying to me now, with an obvious lie that we both know is a lie, we ain't goin' nowhere. Fast. And I don't plan on going nowhere this summer.

"But you just said..." Good girl. Inwardly, Tosha applauded Sara's attempt to sidetrack the question of her virginity.

"A double negative." Coco crossed her arms over her chest, head tilting to the side again. "Yeah. I know. It's called colloquial English. Or perhaps part of an underclass argot."

Touché. Points for the new girl. The exchange kept Tosha's mind mostly away from the still-cascading memories. She could certainly identify with the twin teen struggles of not wanting to be seen as stupid or nerdy, too smart, either. And then there was the balance between being labeled a virgin or a slut.

"And you really just..." Sara's faux glasses must be hanging low on her nose. Tosha could see the affected pose without looking. "...he just kissed you. And you came? No sex?"

Then she did risk a glance, saw bold brown eyes drop for an instant, suddenly unsure. Then Coco's bravado was back, but forced. "I think I'd remember if I had sex with this one. He's gorgeous, built and...hot. His eyes are, like, fuck, ya know? And he just smells good. Really good."

Sara giggled, nervous. "Hey. I gotta pee something fierce. Would you..."

"I got your gold, girl."

The redhead almost sprinted out of the room, calling over her shoulder. "Thanks! I'll meet you downstairs."

Tosha waited until Coco slid the second tray into its place before she began to swing the steel door closed. The slender student slipped behind her, placing a hand on the teacher's lower back, casually, confidently. With a couple, the touch would have been incidental, unnoticed. But it was oddly intimate considering their relationship.

Tosha could have simply stepped away, established a safe, professional distance. Instead, her body leaned into the student's hand on her back, turning toward the young beauty.

The girl's smile reassured her and scared her at the same time. She might have found that alarming if Coco hadn't leaned in with a long slow inhale, a petite nose's tip soft, tracing her jawline to her throat.

"Aah." It was a nervous squeak. Or a breathy sigh. But it was enough, and Coco's hand was off Tosha's back and busy adjusting her own backpack's strap. Her student's eyes held no tease, no amusement or recognition of what had just happened. What had just happened?

"'Night, Miz Tosha." The voice was as casual as the eyes, the roughness now smooth, almost a purr. The teacher watched the student leave, drinking in the slim yet alluring figure, moving with sway that brought her thoughts back to a hand, soft at her lower back, guiding her in for a sweet, tender but overwhelming ki...

Tosha Drexler! Do not go there. Do. Not.

She busied herself, locking the cabinet, storing paperwork in the desk. She caught a movement through a window: Sara and Coco had reached the end of the school's driveway. Both turned together heading deeper into the @States, away from any reasonable path the redhead would take home to her own more upscale neighborhood.

This run-down, unincorporated section of town had long been known as 'The States' because the streets running East-West in the area were named for random states like Ohio, Wisconsin, Delaware. Likewise, the upscale neighborhood where Sara Mueller and her mother lived was 'The Avenues.'

McAlister? That was the name Coco had whispered. Mrs. McAlister had been the town's biggest rental real estate holder as long as Tosha had been alive, mostly concentrated in the lower-income areas. 'Slum Lord' was not an entirely inappropriate epithet. The McAlister Mansion wasn't magnificent, but the three-story Queen Anne still stood out, the largest home in that nebulous span of residences near the park separating the upper crust Avenues from the lowly States.

Since Tosha's move back to town more than one person had shared gossip about a new, younger Mr. McAlister who now made the decisions. A handsome new Mr. McAlister. Old Mrs. McAlister was sick or something. It hadn't seemed more than idle chatter until now. The girls were heading toward Ohio Street, the main way to Pine and the Mansion. There was a faster way, though, through a couple alleys. Tosha had no doubt that she needed to follow them, to see this new McAlister.

Even slowing for the deeper ruts in dirt of the alleys, she could drive much faster than the girls could walk and this route would keep her out of their sight. And her tired old Saturn with the oxidized paint on the roof would complain if she didn't keep it slow over any rough spot. She could park beyond the Mansion and have a clear view of the walkers coming up Ohio while she stayed screened by the overgrown McAlister privets.

Less jumbled now, more complete images of Tony Garcia and those deep magical eyes looked down at her again as she drove. It seemed her memories, jogged by Coco's description, came back much more readily when her attention to them was cursory.

———

'And you're hot.'

The young Tosha hadn't said the last thought out loud. Her unexpected halt from her jog had brought her closer to him than either would have normally stood; she had to crane her neck back to meet his dark, bright eyes. She felt a bead of sweat run down from her throat, tracing a wet line that disappeared between her small breasts held tight in the damp jog bra.

She was impressed that his eyes didn't drop down to ogle her, and a little disappointed. Most boys and men did it without even realizing. His gaze instead met hers as the smile returned, showing straight teeth more ivory than white and tiny wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. This close up, his lashes were long and dark. Her breath was not recovering as quickly as usual.

"Actually, I do mind not fitting in. I wish I fit in better, I think, but these little cliques don't seem worth joining if it means hanging out with the kids in them. What's yours, anyhow? The cool jockette nerds?"

Tosha pouted, hurt, then realized he was kidding. She laughed, smoothed a stray strand of her brown hair back from her face. Her last haircut had been too short and it didn't want to stay tied back the way she liked. This was far more than she had heard him speak unless he was engaged in a step by step destruction of a teacher's position in class. "Jockette nerds, huh? Our motto is 'studious and studly.'"

"And cuddly?" He rhymed quickly.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Mysterious Tony Garcia actually blushed. His eyes dropped to the ground. Tosha changed the subject, not wanting the meeting to end uncomfortably, now that she had him talking. "So, what are you doing down here?"

"Oh, uh, I like the flowing water at this spot. It's peaceful. A quiet place to relax. Even the trout seem to like it."

"The trout?" Tosha had lived here most of her life but had no idea there were trout in the skinny sliver of water.

"Sure. Come on, I'll show you." He hesitated, pushing his bangs back again. "Unless you're on a schedule. I know you were jogging."

She kept most of her smile to herself. He was so cute! "I can spare a minute or two."

He gestured grandly down the shady path. It was only a few yards around a bend. The bend revealed a picnic table on a concrete pad with a simple barbecue grill topping a steel post, and then a short bank of dirt and twisted tree roots leading to the shallow, sluggish water.

She stopped at the bank and he joined her, pointing. "See there? They're little, but those are trout."

Tosh saw tree leaves and branches first: reflections on the surface, then sand and rocks and a few shadowy sticks. "Where?"

He stepped closer to her side and pointed out toward the middle of the water. She shivered when his other hand rested lightly between her shoulder blades. It was cooler here, in the shade, and she was slick with drying sweat.

"See? There."

A shadow moved. Less than a foot long and thin, but it was moving, turning. She saw what must have been the tail flick and the rounded front end broke the surface, starting a circle of ripples.

"It got a bug."

Tosha could see other shadows, once her eyes knew the shape to look for. Some really were shadow-trout, on the shallow bottom, with the trout itself hovering above it. "Ooh. There's a lot of them. Can you eat them?"

"It would take a bunch to make a decent meal, but they don't let you fish here. You have to go upstream out of town, or down by the Sacramento River."

"Look! There's a big one." She pointed down past Tony, leaning in towards him. The trout wasn't really much bigger, but she wanted his hand to stay where it was.

Instead of staying, though, the hand moved. Sliding higher, she felt his touch on the bare, slick skin above her jog bra. His thumb massaged small circles at the base of her neck, her sweat acting like slippery, lubricating oil.

Her pointing hand dropped to her side as her shoulders relaxed. Tosha turned toward him, raising her face to smile up at him. "This is nice."

Things got nicer. His other hand fell on her waist as she turned. Dark eyes on hers, he leaned down, softly, lightly kissed her lips. She purred.

———

As Tosha had predicted, the two girls strolled into sight. They contrasted in so many ways. Pale, dark. Tall and slim, softly curved. Straight and strawberry, tight black ringlets. States and Avenues. Both seemed to radiate, today more than most, with an unconscious, innocent sexuality almost solely the domain of young.

Yes, both. But one more than the other. Sara Mueller gave off an aura of youth, the fresh, alluring and compelling, unfamiliar chemical and electric signals broadcast by her newly maturing body.

Collette "Coco" Bouvier, though, was radiant, glowing. The girl was special, more so than just the striking, exotic beauty could account for. Charisma? That too was no more than a small part of the compelling, magnetic aura around her. Another part was her touch. Tosha could still feel the exact spot her hand had come to rest, the same spot Tony's hand had begun, before it's slow sweat-slick journey to her nape.

Tosha watched the two approach, stop. Coco was talking, with her hands as much as her tongue. She reached for Sara's wrist. The redhead pulled back, shook her head. Coco shrugged, added a few curt words before turning away, toward the Mansion's front door. She didn't look back as she almost marched up the long walkway, clanged the heavy metal knocked on the door.

Sara took one step to follow her then spun, almost trotting off. Her shoulders, eyes were down, defeated. She looked somehow smaller, diminished in retreat than she had a moment ago, glowing with young energy as the two had sauntered down Ohio.

Tosha briefly considered following Sara, but the drive to see this new McAlister was not to be denied.

She stared at the door. It took forever, or at least a few seconds, before it swung inward. A dim figure stood in the opening, tall, dark haired. Tosha's breath caught.

Then Coco was easing toward him, those smooth long limbs reaching up and over his shoulders. A strong man's arm slipped around the girl's narrow hips, dragged her close before the hand roamed upward. Upward to the back of a graceful neck. It stayed there, massaging small circles, as the door closed.

That spot. The same spot. Where Tony's hand had...

———

The next kiss they shared by the creek was still soft, his irresistible lips pulling at her upper one. Tosha found herself on her toes, leaning into his chest, one hand coming to rest on his lean, hard arm. The hand, the massaging thumb on her neck sent a powerful, warm-chilly tingle down her spine. Her lips parted.

Tony's tongue was gentle as it found hers, offering much, presuming nothing. Tosha tasted spice, a hint of musky-fresh manness. Her hands came up to his shoulders, her chest pressed up and into him as the kiss deepened. She clearly felt a shudder in his breathing, delighted that he was as affected as she felt.