Bedtime Stories for Grownups
The Teacher and the Secretary
DAVE STEDMAN fairly flew from the school. He was already late for a very important date. He certainly didn’t want to disappoint Maggie Tillotson. It was Valentine’s Day and he had a very special gift for her.
The encounter with Crystal Thomas had unsettled him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been propositioned by a student. It might have been the most difficult to turn away. Crystal was certainly attractive enough; she’d been pretty explicit about her intentions. Not that she wasn’t obvious all the time. Every class, it seemed, had a front row of young women in short skirts and plunging necklines, looking up adoringly at him. He knew many were disappointed that their interest did not improve their grades.
He took the flowers from the back seat of his car and carried them to room 218 of the little motel. He pushed the door open and pocketed the key. Maggie lay nonchalantly on the bed, propped up against a pile of pillows, reading a magazine.
“I thought you’d never get here,” she said.
Dave checked his cell phone for the time. He was only two minutes late.
“I ran into a little traffic at school,” he said. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Maggie.” He presented the flowers to her and bent to kiss her tenderly.
“What kind of traffic did you have at school?” Maggie asked. She had an idea.
“Oh, just a student who had questions about becoming an activist,” Dave said, passing it off as nothing.
“A girl?” Maggie asked, not letting him off the hook as she examined his face.
“Well, yes. Not that it makes a difference.”
“A very pretty girl,” Maggie insisted.
“I suppose… if you’re into teenagers. I’m not. I’d be a terrible teacher if I was, you know.”
Just because he wouldn’t do anything with a student didn’t mean he never thought about it. Sometimes, even fantasized about it. He could well imagine spending some alone time in bed with his recollection of Crystal Thomas, her breath on his ear, and her kiss on his cheek. But, of course, he would never do anything about it. He realized he’d grown aroused at the thoughts he was having and moved to join Maggie in bed.
She pushed him aside when he reached to hold her.
“When will you be meeting this one? Do you plan to have her right here in this bed when I’ve gone to work? How active do you think your little teenage activist will be?”
“Maggie, I have no dates to see anyone but you. And you’ll make me the happiest man in the world if you will be the only one for me for the rest of my life,” Dave pleaded. He began fishing in his pocket for the ring. He fully intended to propose to Maggie, but she was intent on pursuing this line.
“Do you really think your teacher’s salary is enough to provide for a girl like me?” Maggie sighed. “I think you are only a teacher because of the rich field of liaisons you might have. A student activist one day, a cheerleader the next, and the sweet young wallflower the day after that. I could never satisfy a man with that kind of opportunity and so little to offer in return.”
“I’ve been looking for a different job. I need to complete my contract at the end of the school year, but I have some very attractive prospects,” he defended himself. At least the job discussion got Maggie off the topic of teenage girls. He reached for her again and she rolled to his side so he could hold her.
“What kind of job?” she asked.
“Well, there are positions in various museums for people with a history degree. I might even become an administrator. And I’ve made contact with a law firm looking for a research analyst. I think that would be a very good area.”
Really, there was nothing that interested Dave Stedman more than teaching history. He got to keep expanding his knowledge of the world, and could share that knowledge with eager young minds in the classroom. He felt that at least half the minds in his classroom were eager. And they weren’t all pubescent females. He didn’t think.
“They don’t seem like much of a financial advancement,” Maggie sighed. “It seems you would be better positioned to take a management position in an established business. Your analytic abilities would certainly help you to manage a financial institution. Have you thought about banking?”
“Banking?”
“You understand trends and current events. I’m sure you would make a wonderful banker or stockbroker.”
“I don’t know.”
The thought of working in a stuffy institution was depressing for Dave. He began kissing Maggie and petting her. She responded as she always did to his touches, greeting them enthusiastically. Before long, they were naked on the motel bed. Maggie was an active lover—his own activist, Dave chuckled. She rolled him to his back and mounted him as he continued to pet her breasts and hold her butt.
This. This! He lived for the feeling of penetrating Maggie and feeling her clenching him as she bounced, sliding up and down, driving them closer and closer to the brink of fulfillment. Maggie began to moan and Dave reached to suck on her nipple, biting it softly.
“I love you!” Dave shouted as he filled her and Maggie moaned out her release.
She collapsed against him and he held her tightly, slowly softening and shrinking from her velvet grip.
Maggie struggled to move off him, but he held her tightly.
“Stay with me for the rest of the afternoon. Let’s have an entire day of making love.”
“It’s already nearly two. I need to get back to work,” she said.
“Call in sick. Or tell them you’re in love and can’t get away.”
“I value my job,” she said, kissing him soundly again. It was nearly enough to get them started again. “I have to dress and go back to the office.”
“Can I see you later? I could spend the night with you tonight,” he sighed.
“With my mother in the next room? You must be kidding, Dave. We can’t spend the night at my house, and I can’t get away from caring for her at night. She’d starve if I didn’t feed her.”
“Don’t you think it’s time I met your mother?” he asked. “I could pick up dinner at The Keg and bring it to her for Valentine’s Day. It would be a good way to meet her future son-in-law.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Maggie chided him. “Valentine’s Day is making you sentimental. There will be time for all that in the future—when you’ve found a good-paying stable job and can afford to have a wife. When you have run through all the teenage girl activists in your classes and are ready to settle down with an adult woman like me.”
“But I’m ready now,” Dave pleaded. Not that he considered Maggie to be that much older. Older than the teenagers, to be sure, but no older than he was. “There are no teens that I’m running through.”
“Give me another smooch before I put my lipstick on. And then go wash the lipstick from your teenage activist off your face. The next time you run from your teen lover to my arms, look in a mirror first.”
“Oh, no! That was not my doing! She kissed me on the cheek when I agreed to help her. It doesn’t mean a thing!”
“Mmmhmm. At least she wears a nice perfume. You smelled good.”
Maggie kissed him, hurriedly applied her lipstick, and waved as she stepped out the door.
Dave sighed heavily and considered just staying in the bed alone for the rest of the day. Instead, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood to look in the mirror at the red splotch on his face, left there earlier by his student. He washed his face, scrubbing hard to get the blasted paint off of him.
He pulled on his trousers and tucked in his shirt, feeling the lump in his pocket.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered as he looked at the ring in its box. He left a tip for the housekeeper next to the abandoned flowers he’d given Maggie.
He left to go job hunting.
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