The Good Housemaster Ch. 1

After concluding our meeting, I return to my room and organize my paperwork. Just as I finish, there's a knock at my door. I open it to find Housemaster Brown standing there. "So. All set for tomorrow?" he asks in his distinctive voice.

I point at my stack of papers on the small desk. "As close as I will ever be, I guess."

His smile's knowingly. "Don't be so nervous. Once the girls arrive and we get into a routine, you will love it here." He holds up a small, clear bottle filled with an amber liquid. His other hand has two small glasses. "It's customary to welcome new tenants with a housewarming gift."

It's my turn to smile. Waving the tall man in, we sit down at what I call my small study. Two chairs and a round table, but it'll make do. The cork gives a small pop as Housemaster Brown wastes no time pouring a share for both of us. "Thank you." I take a whiff of the drink, and it smells quite strong. "What is this, if I might ask?"

The man smirks conspiratorially. "I received it from an old friend. I don't think you will find anything quite like this anymore." He raises his glass. "To Alan. May he survive the first day."

I snort, but still raise my glass and take a sip. The alcohol tastes sweet. Then the burn starts, and I gasp. "Waaow!"

"Bracing, isn't it? Hopefully it will take your mind off of some of your worries."

"It might." I take a second sip. It's simply smashing. "It's just that; I know I'm not that much older than the ladies who I'll be teaching. Will they respect me?"

"That will depend on you, young professor. Do you think you have the stuff to take control? To impose your will in the classroom?"

That's a strange way to put it. "I suppose I can. At least I hope that they learn and grow while in my class."

The housemaster sets his glass down. "I'm sure they will, Alan. In fact, I'm sure they will adore you."

I spit my drink back into the glass. "What?" For some reason, I start blushing.

The housemaster smiles. "It's just that I have a feeling about you. A good one. You could be the first real prospect I've seen in some time."

I take another sip. "Prospect? What are you talking about?"

"I'm just gathering the best talent for this school, Alan. I hope you won't disappoint."

"No sir! You can be assured that I will do my utmost this term."

The Housemaster grins. "We shall see. A toast then?" He raises his glass. "To Alan and our Great Expectations."

"Dickens?"

His mouth widens into a toothy smile. "Of course. Go to it, Pip."

Confused, I take a long pull at the golden liquor.

* * *

"Whaaa...?!" I lurch upright, and the covers fall off me. What time is it? Even with the curtains pulled, I could tell that dawn has broken. Goddammit! I'm going to be late!

What had happened last night? There's a pain that's slowly fading from the top of my head. It's almost like when I just finished my undergrad tests. A stress headache? Rubbing my scalp, I shrug a robe on and head for my small bathroom. Stalking in, I turn on the sink and take a look at myself in the mirror. No worse for wear, I guess. What was that drink? I only had one glass. Swearing never to touch the stuff again, I only have time to wipe the sleep out of my eyes and a quick brush. Just as I finish dressing, the school bell sounds. Bloody Hell!

Rushing to the main corridor, I find my way to the Great Hall and discover Mrs. Pritchard standing outside the double doors with a clipboard. Her eyes narrow as she sees the rush I'm in. "You're late."

"I know. I'm sorry." I could feel her stare on my back as I hurry to a small buffet and grab some food. I'm famished. As I flip some eggs and toast on my plate, I see him sitting. Walking up behind Housemaster Brown, I give him a nudge in the back. "Thanks."

"Professor? Remember who I am." His dark eyebrows shift upwards at my forwardness, and he definitely didn't like me touching him.

"Yes, sir. I know you were just trying to help, but don't bring that stuff to me ever again."

He looks at me in surprise. "I see. Well, I'll take that under advisement."

At that moment, Headmaster Sherman comes in and looks over to where the professors are seated below the housemasters' table. He raises his voice. "Good morning to all of you."

We all respond, "Good morning!"

Taking a moment to smile, his eyes sweep over us. "The time has come to welcome a new class. We shall sort the students to their houses first. The housemasters have their lists, and this shouldn't take long. Sixty new students will enter our halls. It is up to each of you to make sure this transition goes smoothly. There will be many questions, and we will answer them all today. Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir!" the twenty some odd staff all raise their voices at once.

"Then let us proceed outside."

We all make our way to the front of the building and set up for the arrivals. As I am new to my job, I'll be helping Housemaster Wastrope with organizing the first years of his house and handling any last-minute paperwork that might pop up. All too soon, the first of the autos start arriving and begin to drop off the young women. Some teary goodbyes are seen, especially among the first-years, but the upper-class students walk straight away to us and check in. A few are wearing smiles, while others look on with seeming resignation now that summer is over.

A new group starts gathering in front of the Headmaster and Penelope. All dressed in street attire, this would be the first years. A more awkward assemblage I couldn't imagine, as many of the girls keep gawking nervously about. Penelope nods over to a blond girl next to her, and she dutifully joins the other ladies standing there. That must be her daughter. When the older students had mostly filed into their dormitories, Mr. Sherman begins to speak to the nervous gathering. After some pleasantries, he calls out their names, and they begin to singly turn and approach their chosen houses. Mr. Wastrope waits patiently to greet the fifteen who are forming a semicircle around him.

"Good morning and welcome." He gives them a beaming smile. "I'm Housemaster Wastrope. I would like you to take a look at each other for a moment. All of you are taking the next step on the long journey of your lives. Hopefully, you will be the closest of companions from now on. I, as Housemaster, will guide and instruct you. There are others, such as Professor Wright here," he gestures to me, "who will also help as your professors in your day-to-day coursework. Please; if you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. The first few weeks will be hard enough, even if you're not confused. Am I clear?" There are nods from most of the girls. A few are still pretty wide eyed, but it appears Mr. Wastrope gave a fine first impression. "Good. Professor Wright will gather your files and make sure everything is in order. After that, you will follow him inside our house." Nodding to me, he leaves the courtyard.

Standing next to a small table just outside the door, I call the first of the ladies. "Lauren White." A bulky young woman with freckles and curly, light brown hair steps up without hesitation and thrusts her folder out to me. Raising my eyebrows a bit, it seems she isn't very worried to be here. "Thank you, Miss White. This will just take a moment. Are you excited to be here?"

Lauren immediately responds, "Of course, sir! My entire sixth year, I've been looking forward to attending Eddington!"

I have to give her marks for enthusiasm. Her open expression and honest excitement are making me grin as well. "I'm glad to hear it. Everything looks fine, so just step to the side until I'm finished, please."

Next up is Natalie Chung. A small lady of mixed Asian heritage, she solemnly walks up to me. "Sir?"

"Your folder, please."

She blinks at me. "Oh! Yes, sir!"

I take a quick look to make sure the signatures are all in the right places. "I see you had top marks in secondary."

Her almond eyes look shyly around for a moment, possibly worried about who might be listening. "Yes, sir. Nearly perfect, sir."

I nod encouragingly. "Well, I hope you do just as well in my courses. You're all set." Why is she staring? I point to Miss White next to me, and the new student finally steps out of the way. And now she's blushing? It's hard to tell with her darker complexion.

I process several more girls without incident until I call out, "Katie Jones!"

A slim lady with long, dark hair comes forward. I swear the eighteen year old is looking at me sourly as she hands me her packet. "That would be me, sir."

I rise to the challenge, giving her my most sincere smile. "You're here from London, Miss Jones?"

She sighs. "Yes. It seems that I have the 'honor' of attending this school."

I try not to let my smile crack. This IS a challenge. I look further into the papers. "Well, with scores like yours, I can see why. Quite impressive."

"And I'm sure my father being an MP had nothing to do with it."

She at least has the wit to smile sardonically. Then I hear it. That underlying cockney accent. I fold my arms and match her expression. "Miss Jones. Are you wasting my time? Better get things sorted or we'll sort ya out." The other girls gape at each other.

The smug young lady tilts her head. Staring at me for a moment longer, she relaxes. "Nice to see not everyone is a fool here." She's laying it on thick.

"High praise. If you could just wait over there then?"

"Yes, sir; Professor Wright." She gives me one last glance and all but saunters over to the other girls. Shaking my head, I look back down at my list. "Amelia Pritchard!"

The blond lady I had seen earlier with Penelope jumps as she was still staring at Miss Jones. Nervously, the lanky woman steps up to me, and I have to admit I'm a bit taken aback. The girl is more than a head taller than many in line. As she reaches forward to hand over her papers, several drop out and fall to the ground.

"Oh, no!" She looks down in embarrassment. Quickly stooping to pick them up, her silken hair cascades in front of her face, and the rest of her documents slide out as well. I could hear a few nervous titters coming from some of the ladies, and her hands begin to shake. She squats to try to gather everything back up, scattering more papers in the process.

I go to a knee in front of her. "It's all right," I say soothingly. "Let's see if we can sort these out." Grabbing the paperwork, I place them on my podium. Luckily, most of the pages are numbered, and it's just a moment's work to get everything back together again. I look back up to her and see that she is still jittery. Shrugging, I show no harm was done. "No problem at all."

"Yessir. I'm sorry, sir. I'm so clumsy."

Her pale blue eyes just won't look up at me. I study her packet. Pretty decent grades. Nothing outstanding, though. I flip through and pause. The information for her father is blank.

"Umm, yes. My father..."

I close the folder. I didn't want to embarrass her any further. "There is no need to explain, Miss Pritchard. Looking at your scores I can see why we accepted you here. Let me be the first to welcome you into Eddington." I formally extend my hand out to her. The young, blond lady looks nonplussed for a moment, and then slowly reaches out to shake my hand. As we grasp, I blink hard, and we both look at each other in surprise. Something is strange about this touch. I can; sense something. How nervous she is. Why can't I let go?

"Sir?" the girl tenses. "What's happening?"

I don't know. I glance around, but everyone seems to be in a fog around us. "Miss Pritchard..." I look back, and I'm stunned. Her purple blouse is fading away. In moments, her white brassiere is in full view. My eyes blink as I can now see most of her pale torso.

"Sir! Your cloak!"

I look down, and sure enough, it was gone. My oxford shirt is disappearing as well. "What the...?!"

I hear a shout of dismay from the tall blonde as she realizes it's happening to her as well. The amazingly long legs of the eighteen-year-old, once clad in corduroy bell bottoms, are now bare as well. One of her arms moves to cover her white knickers but the other won't release my hand. I feel her shock and embarrassment. "What's happening?!"

My clothes are all but gone. Nothing left but my boxers, and I think my skin has gone pink. I'm flushing with just the most casual contact with the girl. I cup my bulge with my free hand just as the last of my clothes fade away. Goddammit! Why am I getting hard? My eyes flick up, and she is openly staring down there. "Miss Pritchard!"

"Why is it glowing?!" The young lady is so distracted, she fails to realize her bra is turning into wispy smoke. That is, until her pale orbs fall a bit and she whips her arm up. She knows what's next, and closes her eyes. "Don't look, sir!"

Her cry I hear, and I close my eyes as well. We both scream our dismay in our minds...

Amelia pulls back with a gasp. Both of us are just as we were before, but now breathing heavily. I blink trying to figure out what just happened. My cock is as hard as it ever was, and the tall girl's cheeks are in full flush. After a moment, I finally manage to raise my voice. "Please join the other ladies." She all but runs over to the others.

Coughing, I settle myself down and realize Housemaster Brown is looking at me from across the courtyard. Is he smiling? Now, in complete disarray, I hurry to finish the last of the girls.

A few minutes later, everyone is checked in, and we're ready to enter the House. Stepping in front of them, I feel Miss Pritchard's eyes on me. I ignore her and finally get the girls to line up and follow me inside. We pass through the foyer, and I knock on the interior double doors three times. A moment later, they open, and a dark complexioned senior dressed in a braided school uniform with a gold pin greets us.

"Who comes to our House, Professor?" she asks formally in an Indian accent.

I clear my throat. "Those who seek knowledge and enlightenment."

"Then come forward," the prefect addresses the first years directly.

I stand outside as the girls begin to file in, and it's no surprise Miss Pritchard gives me a wide berth. For the first time, they enter the main hall of Professor Wastrope's House, where he stands in the center. Surrounding him on three sides, nearly filling the room, are the rest of the ladies of the house, looking very solemn. Yet again, the younger women cluster together, appearing uncomfortable at the attention. Professor Wastrope breaks the silence.

"Good morning, first-year students. I hope you understand the seriousness of the endeavor you have placed upon yourselves crossing that doorstep."

I could see that all of the young women's eyes were growing as big as saucers, staring at the grave Professor Wastrope. A few yeses and sirs could barely be heard.

"That's not nearly good enough." Turning to the rest of the girls in the room, he raises his voice. "How does one address me in my house?"

Suddenly there is a thunderous, "Yes, Housemaster!"

Mr. Wastrope pauses a moment and looks back, still stern. "And how do we greet them?"

"Welcome first years!" The shout shakes the nerve of the young ladies, and most jump. "Welcome to our home!"

A moment later, a cheer goes up, and the older girls come forward, smiling and laughing. The new ladies are soon enveloped by their upper classmates, and there are hugs and handshakes for everyone. Having finished my business here, I close the door and let the noise fade as I proceed to my classroom. I have a lot to think about...

"Professor Wright!"

I come to an uncertain halt as I see Mrs. Pritchard standing there outside the main doors. She doesn't look happy. "Yes, Ma'am?"

"Why were you being so forward with my daughter?"

I feel an anger suddenly build at the accusation. It's quite out of character of me. "Forward? I was trying to reassure her!"

"Don't give me that!" She steps right up to my face. "I saw how she reacted to you!"

What did she see? "Professor! I swear I would never..."

"She's had a hard enough life! Now, after losing her..."

I hear her breath coming out in a shudder. Realizing what this is all about, my jaw drops. "Oh my, Ms. Pritchard! I'm sorry!"

Her eyes are wet. "Just be careful, Professor."

She turns away, and I watch as she retreats into the school. I stand in the courtyard as my worry gnaws at me. I look at my hand and rub my fingers together. What did just happen? Talk about being careful. Amelia is in my first class!

* * *

After an uneventful night's rest, I feel a bit better. I can almost convince myself that what happened was all in my mind. Before classes, I arrive at the Main Hall to grab breakfast and watch the commotion as all of the students try to settle into tables with friends and acquaintances. Today, the housemasters set themselves apart at a raised table in the front while the rest of us peons eat just below. Right before classes were to begin, Headmaster Sherman stands to address the entire school.

"I'm happy to see the Hall filled again with all of you earnest young women this year. I hope everyone is as excited as I am about our new outdoor sports facilities, which we have nearly completed. We will introduce new sports and activities, including inter-house competitions, later this fall." A number of cheers. "I will remind everyone that for the first three weeks, no one may leave campus in agreement with the local town's wishes. Students can, with their Housemaster's permission, go into town or the surrounding countryside in pairs or groups after that. We will offer field trips for educational purposes several times during the term as well, so I hope you won't feel too cooped up inside these walls." A few laughs. "Finally, let me say to all of you: relish your time here with us. Use every minute to the utmost. The future will come all too soon." There is respectful applause from everyone as the Headmaster steps down.

I stand up and watch as the students begin to file out. Many know the way to their classes, but the prefects point out directions for the first years. Once the initial press dies away, Housemaster Wastrope approaches me. "May I accompany you to your first class professor?"

"Of course! A last minute pep talk?"

He frowns. "Actually, I have been asked to sit in."

I glance around and see Penelope looking at us. "Ah. I see." I can't get angry at her. Knowing about her loss, I can understand her protectiveness. "Well, let's get on with it then." Walking down the right-turning hallway, I feel my excitement building. I would finally be doing what I really wanted. Steeling myself, I open the door and take on my first class.

The layout of the classroom is pretty straightforward. Since I would be teaching history and English literature for the first years, there is a large map of Great Britain and Europe to either side of a blackboard directly behind my desk. Mr. Wastrope nods to me and hangs back near the door.

My attention turns to the more important subjects in front of me. Settling into their desks are nearly two dozen eighteen-year-old girls. The students all are wearing the daily uniform, which comprises of a plain white button down shirt under a dark burgundy blazer with school emblem on the breast. Below that, a loose burgundy skirt drapes just below the knees. The short white stockings contrast the black Mary Janes to complete the look.

I feel the student's eyes as I cross the room to stand in front of the blackboard. Chalk in hand, I write my name at the top and turn back to the students. "Good morning, class! My name is Professor Wright."

A ragged "Good morning, Professor Wright," floats back to me. Mr. Wastrope shifts in his seat at the lukewarm greeting, but I still smile. "We can work on that later. In this class, I will be teaching English and English literature. I know what's on all your minds at this moment. Why do I have to study this? Haven't I spoken this language all my life? Haven't I taken twelve long years of this subject?" Looking over the girls, I see some uncomfortable shifting. "Well, I would agree. The classwork you received in secondary school should have given you a satisfactory education." I pause. "However, at Eddington, we are not satisfied with satisfactory. Over the next four months, I'll be teaching you some of the finer points of our language. I will be preparing you so that you can understand not only modern English but the origins of it as well. I will be pushing you to write creatively and not just spit back what a teacher wants on a test!"