This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to anyone, anywhere, anywhen is purely coincidental.
This story involves sex between adult females. If that's not your thing, or if it is illegal in any way, then stop reading. Otherwise, enjoy!
"Dum da da-da dum dee" I hummed as I clambered out of my car, dragging my huge old-woman-style shopping bag behind me and huffing loudly. I just couldn't find another bag that was big enough and strong enough to haul around three sets of exercise books every day of the week, but it didn't do my street cred any good. Still singing to myself (and imagining myself playing the trumpet in a delightful performance of Handel's Water Music), I turned and slammed the door, wiping the rear of my clean trousers on the mucky door.
"Bugger it," I mumbled, looking around guiltily, for that type of language was rather frowned upon in the Catholic school at which I taught.
I sauntered to the front doors, surreptitiously turning away from the cameras that poked out from every corner of the roof as I brushed as much dirt as I could from my arse. Great start, Chris!
Having quit my previous employment two years ago, I now make my living as a teacher of science in an old, well-thought-of school that is bubbling with mischief and impropriety amongst the staff, and cigarettes and cider amongst pupils. Ah, well, life could be worse. Could be better, though, and this was my thought for the morning. My mornings were vastly improved recently, however, since I began sharing a form group with Connie; a sweet, funny lass from North of the border, history teacher, with the most enchanting accent I've ever heard. Just hearing her tell the pupils to "Sit down, afore ye look like wee haggis perched on a mountain" sends me weak at the knees. And tingling between the legs...
"Morning, Connie," I mumbled as I passed her and headed for my desk. Being a science lab it wasn't a proper teacher's desk, just a table on which endless stacks of paper seemed to grow daily. Some days I dreamed there are mini tectonic plates underneath, creating paper mountains. Red-faced from the briefest of contacts with Connie, I grabbed the register and loudly shouted out the first few names until the pupils got the message to be quiet. It seems to take longer every day. I smiled across at her once I'd calmed down and received a grin in return. "The woman must think I'm crazy, or a drama- queen, the way I carry on in front of her", I thought, frustrated at myself, Connie and the kids all at once.
Finding myself in the staff room collecting bits of paper from my pigeon-hole, I decided to visit the ladies'. It would be a while before I was free, and it's hard to teach when you're desperate for a pee. I locked the cubicle door and sat on the seat, relaxing for a minute.
As always, my thoughts wandered back to Connie and how my arm had brushed hers this morning as I passed her. Yesterday our fingers touched as she handed me some keys, and I felt a tingle up the length of my arm as I remembered the sensation. I slid my trousers and pants down slowly, imagining undressing myself in front of her, surrounded by candles and accompanied by Mozart. Closing my eyes, I remembered the week before, when she leaned against me and rested her head on my shoulder during a particularly dull staff meeting, and I could see her proud nipples through her shirt as I shifted so that her head fit snugly under my chin. My hand caressed my thighs and up towards my wet slit, and I spread my legs wider, shaking my trousers off.
Using one finger I caressed my swollen clit slowly, so slowly it was almost tortuous. I pictured Connie in front of me, her hand instead of mine, bringing me pleasure and a shuddering release. I gasped, arching my back and stretching out my legs as I reached orgasm quickly, then relaxed as the waves ceased to course through my body.
After a morning filled with fossil fuels, reproduction (theory) and the Haber Process I found myself in need of a coffee. Usually science staff tend to congregate at lunchtime in the prep room that had the most chairs in it, but I was anxious to speak to Connie and apologise for my a)lateness, b)rudeness, and c)weirdness. I found her in the humanities staffroom, at the kettle.
"Enough water for another in there?" I asked, smiling and nodding at the kettle. Connie looked around sharply, relaxing when she saw that it was me.
"Thought you were the boss, coming to shout at me for something I haven't done," she joked, her blue eyes meeting mine and sending shivers down my spine.
"Nope, only me. Listen, can I have a word?" I asked, holding my mug out for hot water. She poured it wordlessly and placed the kettle down slowly, turning away from me.
"Course you can, but I have a coursework session now. After school?"
"Ok, I'll come by your room. See you later." I took my drink and wandered over to the noticeboard. Nothing ever goes as planned, does it?
The bell rang as I was chasing the last of my Year 10 group from my room. The calm before the storm, I mused. Every year the glass became more half-empty than half-full, it seemed, until soon I would think like a crabby old bag with no pleasure in life whatsoever. I took a deep breath and headed for the stairs. Outside Connie's classroom was a handy alcove containing a photocopier and computer for general use. It was also my reconnaissance spot, for I could see into her classroom towards her desk through the small window in the door. She was sitting, head bent over intent on some task, most likely marking work. Taking a mental deep breath, I walked in quickly before I had a chance to change my mind.
"Ah, there you are, thought you'd got lost," Connie said without looking up, her fair hair falling in front of her face which she had a habit of sweeping back with her hand. I sat down on a chair to her left, waiting. After a minute she threw down her pen and looked up.
"So, what's up, Chris? Looking a wee bit hassled, there." I nodded, heart pounding and convinced I was as red as a beetroot.
"I ... er, I just, well, I thought since I was late today..." I tailed off. I just couldn't get the words out, any words, with the personification of a goddess sitting right there in front of me. I stared at my feet. Given the quantum nature of the universe, perhaps at this moment the ground would actually open up and swallow me, though improbable.
"Chris," a soft voice penetrated my musings. "Chris, it's fine, doesn't matter. It's my form too, now, so no problem." Connie reached out and squeezed my hand gently. "You worry too much," she said, gripping my hand tighter then letting go. I stood and hurried out, cheeks flaming.
The Crown and Anchor was pleasantly humming with the early-evening crowd when I somehow ended up there after finishing work late. Somehow there are never enough hours in the day for all the marking, planning, reports, chasing up attendance records, writing schemes of work and actually teaching children. I pushed my way through to the bar.
"Hey, stranger. Been a while, hasn't it?" The grizzled landlord addressed me curiously. I grinned.
"Hey yourself, old man. Been a couple of years, nothing at all to an old fellow such as yourself." I pointed at the Tetley's and shrugged my shoulders.
"In with a friend tonight, or on your lonesome again?" he asked, pulling my pint and peering at me through wise old eyes. I shrugged again.
"Just me, Sam, so better get the whisky out," I said, only half-joking. I looked around the stone-floored building, with its low ceiling and ancient oak doors. There were a few people I recognised from the time I had spent in here, during what now seemed like a past life. I had wined and dined and dated, and drank and fought and gambled here nights on end, willing that my life changed but doing nothing about it. Here I was again, same problem, different woman. Connie is nothing like Katja was, yet I feel the same burning attraction that keeps me awake every night. There were plenty of other women I found attractive, some I have dated casually, but Connie -- Connie is something else. I gulped at my pint, wishing it was not a school night.
Hours later, I stumbled into bed, drunk and miserable, shrugging off my shirt and bra in a heap. Like last night, and the night before that, and for the last two months since I fell in love with a woman I see every working day.
"...and you absolutely must bring this answer slip back, or you won't be allowed to go." I heard Connie's familiar Scots tones through the open door. Hoping I looked presentable, I strolled in and dumped my bag on the floor. Wednesday was the only day when we were both free first lesson, and I intended to make the most of it. The bell went, and as one the eager-faced little darlings pelted for the door. Pavlov would be proud, I thought as the last of them slammed the door and disappeared.
Connie picked up the register and turned to me. Her cheeks were flushed from rushing about, and she wore a silky white blouse that just revealed the top curves of her breasts. She looked divine. Well, she is a goddess.
"I'll take this downstairs now," she said, looking directly at me. Probably annoyed as I was late again. I reached out and grasped her arm, and my hand met bare skin, warm to the touch.
"Please don't rush off, I was just about to make coffee," I finished lamely. She quickly glanced down at my hand which I removed hastily, though she had neither commented on it nor moved away.
"Coffee it is, then. Black this morning, I need it strong." She followed me into the empty prep room, closing the door behind her. I could hear her breathing close behind me whilst I rummaged for clean cups.
"We should talk about this," said Connie, causing me to turn around too quickly and stumble. Her hand caught my shoulder and held me steady. She led me over to the chairs and sat down, gesturing to me to do the same.
"Do you feel it too, or is it just me?" she asked, sweeping her hair from her face and resting her chin on one hand. I gaped at her, unable to make a sound. I must have looked confused.
"This ... thing, between us. This connection, whatever it is. Don't you feel it?" she asked. I nodded. A connection, a frisson, sexual tension -- whatever it was, it was most definitely there. But Connie felt it too? I actually pinched myself, then wondered if I could be dreaming that, too. Her soft lips were suddenly brushing against mine, and I leaned forward, snaking my arms around her body. I had imagined this for so long, in every possible scenario from a chance meeting in Waterstones to a romantic stroll around the University parks, but none of my fantasies came even close. We kissed for hours, so it seemed, until reluctantly my common sense tapped me on the shoulder -- luckily before any of my colleagues did. Connie smiled shakily, and I pulled her forward into a tight hug.
"I wanted to do that yesterday, but I didn't have the balls," I whispered, kissing her ear and cheek and thinking her hair smelled vaguely of pineapple.
"What, erm, well, what shall we do now?" I asked, wondering as I said it whether I would actually want to hear the reply.
"No fucking idea," replied Connie. Pure Glaswegian. I grinned, probably looking like I was on drugs. "Drug of luurrrrve," I said to myself, laughing out loud. My God, I was actually losing my sanity, I thought, almost crying with hilarity. It didn't last long, for Connie pulled away seconds later and regarded me in earnest.
"We can't tell anyone," she said, her tone serious. I nodded.
"Well, no, I mean, we only just..."
"No," she cut in, shaking her head. "We can't tell anyone, say anything, at all, ever. You do remember what school we're in, don't you?"
"Ye-es," I answered, not understanding her point. Connie sighed theatrically.
"For God's sake, this is a Catholic school. Ok, they wouldn't exactly have us stoned to death, but it would make life very uncomfortable to say the least."
I finally understood, and I felt a sliver of fear creep into my heart. What if someone found out? Would we be disciplined, ordered to not socialise together, sacked even? I met my friend's gaze. Her light blue eyes seemed to sparkle, and suddenly I didn't care.
If you like what you've read, email me, sam_c02uk@yahoo.co.uk If you don't, also email me, bearing in mind that I'm not a professional writer. Cheers!