The French Teacher 01

All sexual activities took place after everyone was of legal age. There was no funny business between teacher and student.

It was my sophomore year of high school. The current French teacher was retiring. Mrs. Davis had been there for a hundred and seven years. We were all convinced she was there at the beginning of the French language. She always spoke in French. We had no idea what she was saying. Mrs. Davis just stood there, grinning at us.

But now she was gone, and a new teacher was to take her place. You know we only took French because we thought girls would like it. The first day of class, in walks Katherine Beatrice Hinson.

At the time, she was just out of college, and this was her first teaching job. You can imagine the effect she had on a room full of teenage boys. Yes, we were all in love.

Ms. Hinson strolled to the blackboard to print her name. We watched her very closely. We knew she was only six years or so older than us. We thought that was cool. I do not know why. Ms. Hinson was trying to do her job. Teach us French.

The next few years went by, and I graduated. I went to college to study music and pursue a teaching career. Those years went fast and then I was out in the teaching world myself.

First it was just a small school in the middle of nowhere. But I worked hard with the students to build a program and make good music. The time went quickly. Things changed as they do. My father passed away and Mom's health was not so good.

The music position opened in my hometown. I applied for and got the job. This would allow me to be closer to Mom and look after her. It was interesting to be in the place where I grew up. Some folks think of you as you were. Others realize you grew up. But I walked the halls as a teacher now instead of a student. A vastly different feeling.

The waning days of summer were spent getting ready for marching band and football games. Shows had to be written and arranged. Grueling practice schedules and lots of work even before school began.

The first day of school and today, I walked into the teachers' lounge. Who should I find there but Ms. Hinson? It had been about fifteen years since I saw her last. I would like to say she had not changed, but that is not so. She was a little more curvy, shapely, and voluptuous. A few lines on her face and a stray strand or two of grey in her hair. She looked great.

I did not think she would remember me. But when I walked in, she said.

"Hello Alan Sterling, it is nice to see you again after so many years. I had heard you were coming back as a teacher. How does it feel to be on the other side of the desk?"

Wow, she remembered me.

I hope it was for good reasons and not for being an oversexed teen. I sat at the table with her a little and we caught up with the past fifteen years. I told her about my previous jobs. She asked if there was anyone special in my life. I had to say no. All she told me was that she was married for a time, but now divorced. It was nice speaking with her. She did not treat me like a kid. We both had classes to teach and things to do.

I was available to see Mom as often as possible. Marching band and football games made that difficult. Mom told me a little about Ms. Hinson. She had married the Art teacher not long after I had graduated. Seems that latter, Ms. Hinson found out that her husband was screwing the assistant principal on side. It was all a big scandal and they divorced. Ms. Hinson remained single afterwards. Our schedules worked out so that we had lunch at the same time each day. This means we spoke often about how classes were going, various problems we might have been experiencing.

Lots of teaching stuff. I never asked about her personal life or the things that happened before. That would have been prying and rude. If she wants me to know, she will tell me.

Football began earnestly. My Friday nights were occupied with herding the band kids, making sure they were all accounted for and ready. Halftime shows and playing in the stands during the game kept me busy. Once the game was over, being sure that all was put away and the kids were safely off to wherever. It was exhausting. But I loved doing it.

Ms. Hinson would be at the games to support the school and the team. Good teachers support their students. She would speak to me now and again. But as I was busy, she did not take my time. I thought it was nice of her. I resolved to pay her some attention when football was finished.

There was one football game she came to I remember very well. Ms. Hinson came strolling up to me in tight jeans, a leather jacket and cowboy boots. Her hair was loose and moved in the gentle wind.

I thought to myself,

"Damn she looks hot!"

But you must be careful what you say and do in front of students. We spoke about the show and how she liked it. She was also kind enough to tell the band students how much she loved the show. That was nice of her. And then, of course, we had lunch at the same time each day. I looked forward to her company. Ms. Hinson was reserved as you can imagine. She had been burnt once and was not in a hurry to have it happen again.

The months progressed. It was towards the end of football, and it was homecoming. There is a dance afterwards. Teachers were expected to be chaperones. A few days before, I got it in my head to ask Ms. Hinson to be my date. Crazy, is not it.

So, I asked her.

"Ms. Hinson, would you like to be my date for the dance?"

I felt like a kid again.

She answered.

"Alan, please stop calling me Ms. Hinson. You may call me Kat, and yes, I would like to be your date for the dance."

I was a giddy. Homecoming is important with lots of past graduates showing up. You want to put on a good show. It was arduous. Kat came to sit with me in the stands and watch me work. She wore a parka, jeans, and boots. It was nice to have someone to talk to. The game ended and we lost. But it happens. The students were in a hurry to get ready for the dance. I did not have to herd them out. This also gave me some time to clean up. I would meet Kat at the dance.

I had put on a clean and dry dress shirt. Directing a band is physical and you sweat, even in the fall cold. Well, I did not want to stink. Not for Kat. Things had not started up when I arrived. The band was plinking and tuning. The guitar player is tone deaf. A few student council kids are running around and looking at things. I found a wall to lean on and relax.

The students started streaming in. The music began to blare. Kids jumping around. I found it hard to remember being like this. But I suppose I was.

Kat appeared at the door. She had on a pink, knee length dress that showed her curves. She was now perched on black heels instead of cowboy boots. Her hair was loose and hung around her face and shoulders. She looked grand and beautiful. I crossed the floor quickly to greet her. I offered my compliments on her appearance. She just smiled. Kat said something about me looking handsome. I found it difficult to take my eyes off her.

We did as we were supposed to. We wandered around the room and tried to keep the students in line. The band changed moods and played a slow song. I asked Kat to dance with me. She put her arm in mine, and we went out to the floor. We kept a respectable distance, just as we had the students do.

I found myself looking into her deep brown eyes. Her hands were warm and soft and tipped with nail polish to match her dress. The scent of her cologne was exquisite. Old fantasies and dreams of her began to reemerge from my past. But I was not a kid anymore. I need to behave myself. I did not want too though. It did not escape the students' notice that two of their teachers were dancing together.

We received lots of smiles.

They knew all about Kat's past. Things like that get out quick. The song ended, but I did not want to let go. I wanted more of this. Kat would take time. I did not know what she was thinking. This would be a conversation for another time. We needed to be responsible teachers and adults now. It was late when it was all over. I did see Kat getting home safely. Then I went home and to sleep. I stared at the ceiling before dozing off. Sometime next week, Kat and I could discuss this. By this I mean seeing her as more than just a co-worker.

Monday morning and I was back at work. The football season was over, but there was still plenty of things to prepare for. Basketball would start soon, and this meant pep band on Friday and Saturday nights. Weekends off would be sparse.

Kat I and met at lunch. I was nervous about talking to her about a date. But if you do not venture, you do not know. She seemed surprised. A frown creased her face and then she said.

"Let's just kind of hang out together and see how it goes."

I suppose I could understand her hesitance. But I said OKAY.

So, we did just that. We had lunch together each school day. Kat would come to ball games and sit with the pep band and me. She would help put things away when it was finished. We sat together at staff meetings and other professional functions. Kat was fun to be with.

She would evaluate my memory of French occasionally. I failed horribly. The only French I really remembered or used these days was related to music. She gave me a tough time about being a poor student and I knew she was kidding.

The time progressed and the holidays were upon us. There were Christmas concerts to prepare, more basketball games to play at. A busy time. Then, it was break until after the New Year.

I wanted to continue to see Kat. It would be three weeks until school began again. I did not want to wait that long. I suggest we meet for coffee the first Saturday of our break. Kat agreed to do so.

I do not know why, but I was nervous about this. A tremendous change for us. Meeting outside of work-related activities. I went to her home to pick her up. A knock on the door and she invites me in while she grabs her coat. Kat has on jeans, flannel shirt and cowboy boots. She looks very striking as she ambles across the floor. We piled into my car and headed for a café.

I have had a thing for espresso since college. The multiple all-nighters, cramming for exams, and countless hours of practice in a tiny room with only my instrument for company.

Kat is much more fun. We sit at a little corner table. Espresso, bagels, and cream cheese are the order. Kat was very frank about her failed marriage and that she did not want to go through that again. It sounded like a horrible time to me.

I tried to reassure her. But you know words are cheap and we all have them. Action would speak louder for her. Kat was the first to bring up the difference in our ages. I looked her dead in the eyes and spoke.

"Your age does not concern me. It is the girl in front of me I am interested in."

Kat liked that, but then asked.

"Alan, where do you see this going?"

I took her hand this time and answered.

"If my company makes you happy, safe, and secure, then I can see things progressing to a life together. I am not your ex-husband. I try to be the best man possible. Please let me try to make you happy."

Kat went off in her mind for a few moments as she thought.

"Okay." She spoke. "I give it a shot. What should we do first?"

I spoke.

"Well Kat, have you eaten today?? I know a great Mom and Pop Italian place. How about some food after all this coffee?"

Kat smiled and spoke.

"Yeah, let's do that."

I paid our bill, and we were off for lunch and Italian food. I have to say that I love Italian food. It is like a party for your mouth and the people you share it with. And being as it was a weekend, there was Chanti involved. It just goes with the food. Kat and I shared a long lunch together with lots of food, talk and some wine. The wine helped us both to relax some. The meal was grand and sumptuous. The finish was cannoli and espresso.

Then she asked me to take her home. I was going to be nice and not push things. I showed her to the door. Kat gave me a hug. I went home. We had fun.

Once I was home, I put on some tunes and sat. There was house cleaning and laundry to do. I did not feel much like doing it. It can wait. The shoes came off and there I sat.

My phone buzzed. It was Kat. She thanked me for a wonderful time and then added.

"Breakfast, my place, 8am sharp, bring espresso. See ya soon, Kat."

I texted back.

"Okay, I'll be there."

The next morning, I got up and cleaned up, dressed, and headed out. The café provided ample amounts of espresso in travel form.

Kat answered the door in jeans and a flannel shirt. No boots, but pink fuzzy socks. I could smell bacon cooking. Kat let me in, and I poured us espresso. The bacon was nice and thick cut. There were also grits simmering on the stove.

She wanted to know how to cook my eggs.

"Over easy with hot sauce." I answered.

I gave her a hand with breakfast prep. I sat at the table and got things around while she cooked. Then we sat down to bacon, eggs, grits, and sourdough toast. There was also tomato juice. The peppery sauce Kat had was warm indeed. It was great on my eggs and in the juice. It was a nice morning and more talking and fun. We gathered all the dishes up and I washed them while she dried and put them away.

Kat asked about my plans for the day. I told her I needed to shop for groceries and clean the house. She shrugged her shoulders and spoke.

"Let's go."

Her boots when on and we headed out.

About my grocery shopping. I do not make lists or plans. There is this habit of buying whatever looks good or strikes my fancy. I do not think about meals. Kat watched me shop and just shook her head.

Then she says.

"Okay, let's put some of this crap back and let's try this again."

We went through the store again with her plans in mind. The checkout and then we headed to my place. Kat came inside and shook her head once more.

"Bachelors!!"

Kat then explained the meal plans she had in mind for me and made lists. Then she looked at my sink and shook her head again.

"Do you ever clean this? Do you have rubber gloves?"

Okay so housekeeping is not my forte. She also throughout the ancient Chinese food, dried pizza crusts and mystery meat in my fridge. Yes, it was a little embarrassing. After some time, the kitchen was under control. We sat on my sofa for a few minutes.

Kat says.

"Do you mind if I take my boots off? My feet are sore. Too much standing at work."

I nodded for her to do so and be comfortable. Her boots came off with a sigh. It was then I said.

"Hey, let me see one of your feet."

She plops it in my lap. I proceed to perform reflexology on Kat's foot. Her feet must have hurt. They were tight and lumpy. It took some time to work the knots out of them. Then, she takes that foot away and I get the other one. Kat wants the same treatment for it. She says I have strong hands. Musicians do you know.

I worked on her feet for quite a while. Then Kat says we should clean some more. I am not sure how this came about. I mean cleaning my home. I am ordered to take control of the vacuum cleaner. Kat begins to dust. This was not an activity I had planned, but okay. Kat spends a great deal of time shaking her head. We end up cleaning most of the afternoon. My place now looks much better. I do not know when, but Kat took off her flannel shirt to reveal a tank top underneath.

Her bra was also peeking out as well as some cleavage. The other thing, her skin was glistening with a bit of sweat. I tried to behave and not stare. Kat has amazing curves.

Towards late afternoon, I got hungry again. I mean all this work and cleaning. I suggested Kat and I prepare some of the food she had me buy. I would feed her again for her help. There was not any Chanti in my wine collection. But there was a Merlot and a Cabernet. One was opened and we began to cook together. Kat had us prepare thick cut pork chops, fresh green beans, and a Caesar salad. Meal planning. Who knew??

We stand side by side in the kitchen. I am cleaning and trimming green beans. Kat is making the salad. We both have a wine glass. The chatter back and forth is constant. Then, there is a lull. Kat turns to look at me and me at her. The cleavage is in plain view and her face is inches from mine. I just lean in and kiss her. She tastes like wine. I pull back and she looks at me. I cannot read her face. Kat goes back to the salad and me to the beans.

Then she stops again and speaks.

"Let's try that again."

We do and dinner is on hold for a moment.

After some involved kisses, we finish cooking. It was the best meal I have ever had in my home. Kat and I do dishes after. We go to the sofa with more wine. It has been a wonderful day. Kat would like her feet rubbed some more.

Kat speaks.

"Alan, when was the last time you were with a woman?

I must think about it.

"It has been some time. Never found one I wanted to be with that much. Plus, you know how my job keeps me busy. You are there too."

Kat just nods her head.

Several minutes passed and I asked.

"Kat, how about you? Last time you made love?"

Her face darkens with the memory.

"A couple of days before I found out he was screwing the Vice Principal. That piece of shit. I swore I would never be involved with another man. But then you had to show up and be so nice."

She was smiling now. Then she says.

"Alan, I think you better take me home now."

So, I do. Once there, I get a kiss at her doorway. Kat looks at me as if she is trying to see something. I do not know what. She closes the door and I go home.

I did not see Kat Sunday. We did text a few times. I wanted to see her. If she needed time and space, then I would let her have it. She had things to work through. It was okay. The women in my life had never been able to compete with my music. Yes, it is that important to me. Kat does not seem bothered by it at all. She has been there and watching. Kat does not demand my attention all the time and she helps.

Sunday was a long day, but restful. I texted Kat a few times Monday and there was no reply. I must think, she just was not ready. I hope that I have not messed up our working relationship. Monday came and went. No word from her. It is okay, I thought. You cannot force it. If she is not ready, she is not ready. So, Tuesday morning, I sent a text.

"Thinking about you. Hope everything is okay."

No reply. I did not send anymore texts. Do not want to be a pest or have her think I am stalking her. So, I tried to let it go.

About 5:30 Wednesday afternoon, I got a text from Kat.

"My house, dinner, 6:30, bring Chianti, two please."

So, I went from being sad and depressed to overjoy in about 5 seconds. I shaved, dressed and was out the door in fifteen minutes. If I were careful with my speed and did the wine shopping, I would be a little early. I get there, try to be calm, take several deep breaths and knock on the door.

There is Kat, looking as beautiful as ever. Jeans, flannel shirt and pink fuzzy socks.

"Come in." she says.

I try to be funny and speak.

"I am the wine delivery guy. Just dropping off Ma'am."

Kat grabs me by the coat and speaks.

"Get your ass in here. I am not heating the out of doors."

Once inside, she says. "Gimme the wine."

I do.

"Gimme the coat." I do.

"Gimme your hands."

I do.

"Gimme the lips."

I do.

Kat has prepared a mountain of pasta and a boat load of meat sauce. The kitchen is rife with the smell of garlic. There is bread warming in the oven. The salad she has made would take me a week to eat. The table is already set with China and wine glasses.

"Open the wine, pour us some and help me carry this to the table." Kat says.

She had placed things, so we were not across from each other, but next too. It was cozy. Dinner was long and wonderful. We laughed and talked forever. I could not eat another bite. We got up, cleared the table, and did the dishes.