Principal's Pet

My head leaned to one side. "A what?"

"It's smaller and holds a lot more pictures. You can get them at any computer store." She waited for me to look up. Our eyes met for but an instant. "I really am sorry."

With that, she slammed her door.

"So am I," I whispered to the unhearing metal barrier before me. My gaze fell to the somber gray of the concrete. This kept my attention until it turned to the bleaker gray of asphalt, until at last the bottom of my car door came into view. Plopping into the driver's seat, I stared out into the lonely dark of the night, and burst into tears.

~ ~ ~

It wasn't until I got home and leaned to collect my purse from the passenger seat that I noticed the black disc lying next to it. The other black disc. For a moment, I considered driving back, to return it at once, but an instant later a grin spread across my face, a grin that had become a smile by the time I got to my front door.

I didn't even pretend to sleep, though I spent a good portion of the wee hours in my bed staring at the ceiling. Over and over I asked myself if my dreams about women like Andrea were true desires or, like the rape fantasies of my youth, something I enjoyed imagining, but didn't really want to happen.

By the graying that comes with dawn, I had my answer, but another few hours ticked by before I thought it was acceptable to sit in front of my computer and dial the number I was meant to have given Miss Marshall the evening before.

Dave answered on the third ring. "We're fine. He hasn't hurt himself yet, but I plan to change that by this afternoon. Skinned knees. Fish hooks. Anything else?"

I smiled at once- there was no sign of slumber or disgruntlement in his tone. "Thanks, but I didn't call to check on Robert. Or you."

"You didn't?"

"No. I need some help. Computer help."

"Yeah?"

I nodded. "Remember how you used to add text to photos."

"You want to do that?"

"Yeah. And some big red arrows, if it's not too hard."

"It's easy. You at your computer?"

"Of course."

"Good," he began, "In the lower left hand corner you'll see..."

~ ~ ~

With my picture ready, drowsiness got the better of me and I slept most of the day. As a result, it wasn't until late afternoon that I called Andrea. I rehearsed my intended message while the line rang, but to my surprise I got a cold monotone instead of her voice mail.

"Hello, Mrs. Larson."

"Please," I said. "It's Courtney. Remember?"

There was a breath, maybe two, before she responded. "Ok, Courtney."

"I forgot to return your disc last evening."

"Oh. You can just bring it with you when we meet the twenty-second. I won't need it before then."

"No," I insisted. "I'd rather get it over with." I cringed at once, realizing that hadn't come out anywhere near how I had wanted it to.

There was another pause, longer than the first, before Andrea asked, "What's your hurry?"

"I just, well, we got off on the wrong foot..."

"I guess you could say that."

"But it doesn't have to stay that way!"

"That's good," Andrea whispered.

I could almost hear her smiling. "So that's why I want to see you."

"It'll have to be late again."

"Your band?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't I come see you play?"

"I, uh," Andrea stammered. "I'm not sure you'd enjoy this kind of club."

"I'm a big girl," I insisted. "I can decide for myself."

Andrea issued a subtle chuckle. "Sounds like you already have. First song's at eight. You know where the 'Back Forty' is?"

Even on the phone I shook my head. "No."

"It's a few miles out on route forty. You know where the old radar post is?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Ok," she began. "You go past there about..."

~ ~ ~

The name 'Back Forty' should have provided all the clue I needed regarding the true nature of the establishment, even if the location didn't, but I was still expecting a trendy club catering to late-in-life lesbians when I pulled into the parking lot. The gravel parking lot. Full of dusty pickup trucks. And flattened beer caps. From cheap beer.

Even though the name was emblazoned on what passed for a marquee, I still double checked the address before looking back to the tow-trailer sign beneath the main one: "Playing Tonight: The Country Kittens"

The interior was like the exterior. Rustic. Dimly lit. Floor made of hard wooden planks with years of dirt and peanuts shells ground into the grain. The haze from several dozen cigarettes. At least there wasn't a cover charge.

I gave my eyes a half-minute to adjust, then followed my ears toward the music. I found the band on a stage decorated like a hayloft. Four girls- two guitarists, one singer, and a drummer. The three blonde sprites in front all wore cream-colored cowboy hats with ponytails running from beneath all the way to the tied flannel shirts that held their bosoms. My eyes continued downward across their exposed midriffs, their cut-off blue jean shorts, and their long, smooth, legs.

On a different day I might have coveted their beauty. Or their talent. But not today. Though they would sing and play an hour more, I barely saw them again. The brunette on the drums had my full attention. She and her black hat. Heavy makeup, perfect under the stage lights. Ponytails lying across the sleeveless vest laced snug about her breasts. I didn't have to smell it to know it was leather, though that didn't stop me wanting too.

I picked the farthest table I could find from the stage, but her roaming eyes still found me before the end of the first song. Thereafter, we each had the other's full attention, until the band took a break and she sauntered toward me across the emptying dance floor.

"You're right," I said as she slid into the seat across from me, "this place isn't what I expected."

Andrea smiled. "Did you imagine my band played dungeons where hooded mistresses dance with slaves on leashes?"

I giggled through a smile of my own. "Something like that."

"I told you this wasn't your kind of place."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I guess you did. At least the stage doesn't have chicken wire in front of it like that one movie."

Andrea continued to smile as she laughed. "No. But we might play 'Rawhide' for our last song." Her smile melted. Her lips twitched. She swallowed. "I don't suppose you'll be here then?"

My smile vanished too. I shook my head. "I don't think so." I paused to glance upward at the haze. "Smoke doesn't agree with me. And, you're right, it's not my kind of place."

With her lips pressed into a line, Andrea sighed, then nodded. "Ok, I guess I better visit the little girls room before we start up again." She put her hands to the table and started to rise.

"Your disc?" I said.

"Oh, yes," she replied. "That."

I retrieved the disc from my purse and slid it across the table, but my fingers kept a firm clamp on the plastic even after she had tugged twice. With her brows low over her eyes, she looked back to me.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd have a look and make sure the files are ok," I said.

Andrea's head fell to one side. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"I might have edited one. By accident."

She smirked. "How do you edit a file by accident?"

"Maybe it wasn't an accident." I smiled and let go of the disc. "You decide."

~ ~ ~

My hands shook on the steering wheel all the way home. I guess I knew she'd call me soon enough, and that some of the things I'd fantasized about were about to happen, if not tonight then tomorrow. What I didn't know about was what Monday morning would bring. Or the next week, when my son returned home.

I found my timid side hoping Andrea wouldn't be everything I'd secretly longed for- that I'd discover imagination to be one thing, and reality something else entirely. That I wouldn't find my life turned upside down. Deep inside though, I knew my life needed turning upside down.

Andrea kept me waiting until noon the next day. The same heart that had hurt all night skipped a beat while I gathered the courage to answer.

"Hello?"

"You aren't teasing me, are you?"

"No," I said. "Of course not."

"What changed your mind?"

"I didn't. You were right the first time. I just needed a little while to realize it."

"I want to believe you."

I swallowed. "Then let me prove it."

"Fine. Be here at six tonight. Dress like it's an interview. Because it is."

"An interview?" I muttered, but the line was already dead.

~ ~ ~

Though I owned but three jackets and only a handful of skirts I'd dare to wear with them, I still changed my mind a dozen or more times before returning to my first choice- a pink blouse with a heather gray suit resembling the outfit Andrea had worn the day I met her. Hoping imitation was the sincerest form of flattery, I pulled my hair back and restricted my makeup to eyeliner and a hint of blush. To be sure I would look up to her, I chose my black leather mules.

The woman who greeted me that evening wasn't dressed for any interview I'd ever been to. The corset was the same one I had seen two days before, but instead of stockings she wore thigh-high boots. On her arms were matching gloves that went well beyond her elbow. Her hair fell over her shoulders in the same unruly rivulets.

At least our makeup was the same.

"Right on time," she hissed. "I like that. This way."

Leaving her door wide, she sauntered away. My wide eyes fell at once to the smooth curves of her thighs and ass cheeks. So smooth. Such uniform hue. Not even a hint of cellulite. Sometimes life just isn't fair.

With a gasp, I glanced behind me, then hurried inside and closed the door.

Andrea had pulled the chair about the glass coffee table so that it faced the couch. She reclined in that chair, her legs crossed about the knees like a man's- much to my chagrin. "Please," she suggested, motioning toward the sofa.

Leaning, I nodded and placed my purse beside the couch, then slid onto the leather cushions.

From within her corseted bosom, Andrea produced a folded piece of paper and spread it in front of her. "I've been reviewing your resume, and you do seem to offer what I've been looking for." She paused, looking from the paper to me. "I think I have an opening for you to fill. Maybe even two." With that, she tossed my alleged resume upon the coffee table.

My eyes widened as they settled upon the creased image, the same image I had edited and placed upon her disc. A buxom brunette stood in black corset, boots, and gloves, and nothing else- looking over her shoulder to where a petite blonde rested on her knees, nude, her eyes turned upward, her nose shoved into the crease of the brunette's ass. A big red arrow accompanied by the word 'YOU' pointed to the brunette, while a smaller arrow with the word 'ME' indicated the blonde. Additional text at the bottom, in white letters, read, 'THIS is what I'm looking for. Are you?'

I caught myself smiling, just a bit, my lower lips just grazing my upper teeth. Only my eyes moved as I turned them upward toward Andrea.

She'd moved her index finger to her lower lip. "So," she said, "this type of position is what you want?"

I nodded.

"Say it," Andrea demanded. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"You," I whispered.

Her eyes neither blinked nor wavered. "Too vague. Try again."

I swallowed. "I want to be with you."

"And I want you to want to be with me." She just stared into my eyes for several seconds before adding, "What I don't want is for you to need to be with me."

My head fell to one side. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you must want to please me," she began, "not need to please me in order to please yourself. Have you never been with anyone needy like that?"

I turned my blinking eyes to the pale gray of her carpet. "I can't say that I have."

"Well, I have," Andrea said. "He showered me with gifts and attention, but it was all about making himself feel good. And when he went down on me, he was always trying to impress me. My orgasm was his goal, like scoring a fucking touchdown or something." She sighed and shook her head. "He called it chivalry. I called it selfish."

With a swallow, I turned my eyes back to hers. "He?"

"He. She. It doesn't matter. What matters is you can't need me."

I nodded. "I've lived this much of my life without you, and I can live the rest without you too."

"So, whatever we do, it'll be because you want to, and because it pleases you- not because you think it pleases me?"

My mouth formed a wide grin. "Yes."

Andrea's lips curved to mirror mine. "Perfect. Where do you see yourself in five years?"

My head bounced backward a half-inch. "What?"

"It's a standard interview question. Where do you see yourself in five years?"

My blinking eyes wandered. "I'm not sure."

"Do you see yourself with me in five years?"

My eyes snapped back to hers. My brows dropped. "I can't promise that. I've never been in this kind of relationship. How can I promise that?"

"Who said anything about a relationship? This is just about sex."

My loins tightened. My thighs squeezed toward one another. "Yeah. Just sex."

"Good." Andrea smiled. "Tell me about your strengths. As a person. And as a partner."

"Let's see," I began. "I'm loyal. And honest."

"Honest?" The principal's smile vanished. "Like when you told me the files on your disc were company data?"

My throat flexed once in a dry swallow. My eyes wanted to wander, but I forced them back to hers. "I'm smart enough not to trust just anyone with my secrets."

Andrea's smile returned. "Good. Tell me about these secrets."

"You know them." I insisted.

"Tell me anyway."

My sex clenched. I squirmed in my seat. My tongue teased my lips. "I want you to make me do things. Nasty things. Things I shouldn't want to do."

"But you do want them?"

"Oh, yes," I whispered. "I want them. And I do want to please you, even if I don't need to."

"So you think it's important to please your partner?"

"Yes."

"Then why did your previous partner start looking elsewhere?"

My jaw fell. I inhaled a gasp.

"Tell me," Andrea said. "Did he start putting his dick in other women before or after you lost interest in him putting it in you?"

My eyes narrowed. "Ok," I admitted. "After."

"Are you going to lose interest in me?"

"Does it matter?" I retorted. "Neither of us needs the other."

Andrea's head began to move in a slow nod. "No. I guess it doesn't matter. Tell me about your weaknesses."

"Lack of patience," I said without the slightest hesitation. "And my knees."

Andrea kinked her head to one side. "Your knees?"

"They're always weak when I'm with you."

The ends of Andrea's lips showed just a hint of curve. "Maybe that's because you should be on them."

My diminutive bosom swelled as I inhaled. She tongued her lips. I did the same. She uncrossed her legs. My eyes jumped to the union of her thighs, but she leaned forward too fast for me to catch more than a glimpse of her.

"On your knees," she whispered.

I brought my eyes back to her glistening orbs. My breaths became shallow. I slid forward, settling on my knees between the sofa and coffee table.

Andrea slithered onto the glass of that table. I wondered for a moment if the transparent pane would hold her, but the next moment she was upon me, her face so close to mine her countenance was a blur except for her eyes. One hand rushed about my head. Grasping my tied hair like a handle, she forced her mouth to mine. Her free hand darted inside my jacket.

Our lips crushed against one another. Our first real kiss. A big sloppy wet one with lips massaging one another. She moved her mouth to the side, suckling the edge of my lips, licking my cheek once on the outside, then again on the inside. Her hand found my bosom where she drew each of her fingernails over my already enraged nipple, plucking my flesh much as if she might be playing a guitar.

I inhaled a short breath through my nose. My ass began to wiggle against my heels. An instant later, my torso moved the opposite way, dancing with my hips. Not a second had passed before my entire body writhed in time with the movement of our lips over one another, all the way to my spread and quaking fingers.

She pulled away. My neck craned to follow her, but our lips parted just the same. I whimpered.

Looking into my eyes, she snarled, then exhaled through her clenched teeth. "You're hired."

I tried to say something, anything, but my lips only quivered. My eyes fluttered. I lost a tear.

Andrea rushed forward. Her tongue caught the salty rivulet on my cheek, licking all the way back to its source. Her mouth continued onward to my forehead where she planted a series of kisses along the edge of my scalp.

Her hand departed my bosom to join the one still wrapped about my locks. She pulled my face to her body as she slid upward, forcing my mouth to the soft hollow at the base of her throat. There I suckled for a second, maybe two, before she moved again, pushing her chest upward until my lips rested above her pounding heart.

"Yes," she gasped. Pressing herself to me, she forced the upper reaches of her corseted bosom over my lips. So soft she was. Made to be kissed. To be suckled. To be loved.

My eyes closed. Her breathing became ragged, almost labored, as she compelled my mouth back and forth from one breast to another, allowing me but a few seconds of suckling before she slid me back to the other one. With each pass, she urged me a little lower, until the edge of her corset stopped the advance of my wanting lips.

Andrea pushed my face lower and my nose picked up where my lips had left off. Mashed amidst the ripples and laces, I breathed, savoring the sharp scent of leather. My hands slapped against my thighs, squeezing the flesh beneath through the wool of my skirt. My mouth watered. My breaths became deeper, longer, irregular.

Again she slid her body over my face until near her navel another primal scent joined that of the leather. Even sharper this aroma was. My hand departed my thighs for her ass. There, my fingers bit into her taut flesh, pulling, groping, urging her onward. Scrunching my spine from my neck to my hips, I sought to bring my mouth lower, closer to her.

With her pace unaltered by my urging, Andrea slid onward, forcing my neck backward until the rear of my head nestled amidst the cushions of her couch and I felt on my chin the softness where her tummy met her mons.

I gasped, bringing my teeth to bear. It was only a nip, but one that sent a shiver through her form. Emboldened, I sought to kiss what I had bitten, but her fingers coiled in my locks, holding my head while she pulled away. Her right leg came up, over my shoulder, to rest on the sofa. For several breaths, she held herself there, displayed before me, but just out of reach. Hoping my nose could discover what my mouth could not, I inhaled twice in rapid succession.

As if that was her cue, Andrea brought her foot from the couch to the floor behind me, straddling my shoulder. Pulling my face to her abdomen, she began to rut herself over the fabric of my jacket. So much for dry clean only.

One of my hands found her thigh where my fingers began to massage her muscles. My other palm cupped and caressed my still-clothed bosom. At first, the scent of the leather dominated my senses, but soon moisture joined the pressure on my shoulders and again I smelled her.

Clamping my eyes tight, I inhaled deeper with each breath, savoring her fragrance until her intertwined fingers pulled at my locks. For a moment, I resisted, but then I opened my eyes and relented. Her hands twisted as she pulled, urging my gaze upward.

"Smell how sexy you are," she whispered the instant our eyes met.

"Me?"

"Yes," she whispered. "You. Think about it." With that, she released my hair and drew the leg upon which she had rested over me. My freed head followed her spinning form to find her resting on the sofa, knees on the cushions, arms on the back, her ass in my face.