At 11:07 in the morning, the mechanical monkey on Miss Kennedy’s desk clapped its cymbals and wildly tottered side to side.
The monkey alarm went insane every weekday at that exact time. And, at hearing it, all throughout the classroom, Kindergarteners stopped their activities and began to sing. Miss Kennedy led her waist-high choir with the most cheerful of voices.
“Clean up, clean up! It’s time to! Clean up, clean up!”
The children dropped paper scraps into the recycle bin and slid tiny, dull scissors into padded slots. Others hanged their smocks on a row of hangers by the tiny sink. They then waited in line to wash their hands.
At Miss Kennedy’s gentle order, the talkative kids came to sit, cross-legged, in individual squares on the semicircle before the large rocking chair.
The young blond teacher passed between the students to take her seat in the chair.
A bold girl, Mary, plopped onto her square and offered a compliment. “Miss Kennedy, you look beautiful today.”
Across from Mary, Eric had a skeptical look in his eyes.
“Yeah, Miss Kennedy, why’d you wear a dress again? You’ve been wearing them a lot. You used to wear pants.” His lips were pursed. His mind seemed to be reconciling his teacher’s change.
“The flowery dress is so nice. I like flowers on my dresses too,” Cindy chimed in.
Among the kids, Miss Kennedy pirouetted with her fingers pinching the hem of her dress. She spread it out to show off the flowers.
“Thank you, Mary, and thank you too, Cindy.” She sat in the rocking chair. “And, Eric, it’s good to change. Sometimes it’s a good thing to be different, to, you know, try new things.”
“Yeah, but what are you doing new?” Eric answered.
“I want to be beautiful today. And I like my new flats.” She stretched out her long legs and fluttered feet in her white shoes.
“Flats? Like tires?” Bruce’s forehead was scrunched.
“My mom says ‘flat’ when she talks about my stepmom,” Arnold said, shrugged toward Bruce.
Miss Kennedy giggled but held back a laughter explosion. “You, kids.”
She took a deep breath. “Well, it’s time for a quick birthday song. Someone—how about you, Arnold—would you get the birthday crown?”
“Sure.” He jumped up.
“And does anyone have a birthday today? I think someone may,” Miss. Kennedy told her class.
Elizabeth very slowly raised her hand.
“Me. I do,” she said softly.
“Then the queen’s chair is for you before lunch!” Miss Kennedy stood. The chair rocked backward and forward.
Elizabeth climbed in. Her face brightened with a wide, albeit shy, smile. She held onto both arms of the chair and rocked it excitedly.
With her seat taken, Miss Kennedy sat in Elizabeth’s tiny pink square in the semicircle. She crossed her legs in the cramped spot and tucked her dress deep into her lap. Carter laid his head on her knee and put his thumb in his mouth.
“Arnold, crown Elizabeth while we sing. Ready, class?”
They all began, “Happy birthday to you …”
Arnold crowned Elizabeth. The girl’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as she basked in the attention.
At the end of the song, Miss Kennedy said her maxim that all the kids knew by heart.
“Few times is anyone—”
“A queen!” The whole class hollered and clapped.
Soon afterwards, the Kindergarteners stood in line, ready to march to the cafeteria for lunch.
Before leaving, Miss Kennedy went to her desk and picked up a heavy walkie-talkie. She clicked on the receiver, channeling a raspy crackle.
“Mr. Jermaine, this is Jenna— Miss Kennedy—and I am having a problem with the toilet. Looks to be stopped up. Can you help? My class is going to lunch now. Thank you.” She held the radio for a moment.
“Will be right there,” came back a rough male voice.
Carter, the skeptic, said, “Miss Kennedy, there’s not a problem in the bathroom. I know there isn’t.”
“And I know there is. So that will be enough of that,” she answered. She hoped she wasn’t too sharp, but excitement was shooting through her core to the tips of her fingers. Her heart fluttered. Her hands jittered. Her knees even were wobbly.
“It’s time—” she gulped. “It’s time for lunch. Lead the way, Elizabeth.”
“Are you okay, Miss Kennedy? You don’t need to use the restroom, do you?” Cindy asked. Cindy’s head fell to the side as she studied the teacher she loved so much. “I hope you’re not sick.”
Miss Kennedy attempted her best happy-teacher smile with wide, bright eyes. Nevertheless, something else was about to happen that these kids would not understand and should never know.
“I am fine, Cindy, but thank you for asking.” She put her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Queen Elizabeth, lead us to the cafeteria.”
The antsy Jenna accompanied her Kindergarteners to the cafeteria doorway. Once in the lunch line, she hustled back to her classroom.
Inside, she went into the tiny bathroom. She slid off her white panties and tossed them over the inside door handle. She raised up her flowery dress so the hem was trapped by her arms.
Her body was overheated, as was her mind. She had to steady herself to keep from toppling over. Her pussy was burning hot and sticky wet.
She heard the classroom’s exterior door open and close heavily. It was the obvious sign of his arrival.
Waiting for him, Jenna bent over. Her forefinger and middle finger spread open her slit to show him the pink goodness, which was bearded by her golden bush.
The bathroom door opened. At hearing it, she gasped. Her body when feeling the tiny whisk of air alone nearly brought her to climax.
She looked over her shoulder at the dark-skinned man in the maintenance jumpsuit.
“Fuck, Jermaine. I am so ready. I’ve been waiting for you.”
He ran his rough hands from the back of her knees, up her skinny thighs. He patted the tattoos of pretty bows on each leg just below her cute ass. He placed one rough hand on her lower back just above where her asscheeks spread apart. He slid his other rough hand between her legs and dragged it through the thick tuft of dark-blond hair. A finger pushed into Jenna’s cunt.
“I need your dick. I can’t handle waiting any longer,” she pleaded.
She bent over further and spread her ass as wide as her fair flesh would allow.
“Looks so good,” he said smoothly.
She watched him, over her shoulder, lower the zipper on his jumpsuit—from his chest to his crotch. He shuffled it off his shoulders. It fell to his knees. He then pulled out his long, python dick. It was erect, and its head already was deep maroon with building temptation.
She gave a quick, pleading bark. “Don’t make me wait. Come on.”
He smacked her ass domineeringly, reddening her soft skin.
She gasped and flinched. Her face recoiled.
Jermaine aligned his cock with her round, petite asshole.
“Wait!” she said.
“I don’t wait, bitch. You want this. You get what I give.”
He pressed hard against her tightened entry.
She felt the burn and the pressure and the intense stretching of her flesh. She pounded the concrete wall that was painted white. She hammered it with her fist as she tried to ease her body.
“Oh, oh, oh,” she hissed and her back arched. She stared toward the paneled ceiling tiles.
Suddenly he slapped her ass again, and she became the submissive Jenna. And her body relaxed. The pain diminished and became a part of the intoxicating pleasure. She felt each of his thrusts so intensely. The sensation of pulses from his cock magnified.
Her head fell toward the floor in enjoying him.
She noticed her blue whiteboard marker that had been misplaced. But she forgot about it immediately when Jermaine grabbed her long hair and yanked back her head. Her face shot up toward the ceiling. The tendons in her neck strained.
“Yes, fuck, fuck!” she shouted. She then whimpered and mumbled.
The room dimmed, as her sought-after luxury of orgasm began to radiate. It covered over her because of his thrusts into her ass. The radiation first centered in her hips. Moments later, her entire body beat quickly in rhythm with Jermaine’s slams into her backside.
With his first grunt and the subsequent jolt of his cock, she was launched on her joyride.
Jenna’s knees weakened in her orgasm. She tried to grip the flat walls with her painted fingernails. Her feet in the new white flats slid wider over the tiled floor. She placed her forehead against the wall as her chest heaved in air.
She felt his dick twitch. It spasmed after a few faster thrusts.
“Cum in me, daddy. Come on. Give it to me. Give it to your slut.”
Jermaine sped up and drove deeper. Jenna screamed toward the floor, hoping to muffle the sound.
In her joyride of intensity, she felt his large cock’s tiniest movements. She knew he was near. She had done this enough that she recognized his body.
She tightened her ass as best as her body would allow.
She glanced over her shoulder.
“Fuck, yeah! You like this white ass? Then cum in it!”
Jermaine’s white teeth were biting his dark lower lip as he tried to last longer.
“Let go. I want to feel it all up in me!” She hissed out the words. She was about to encourage him but felt the first shot of cum deeply. Then a second and a third. He tightened his cock in her to unload every bit of his juice.
He held, poised briefly, and then pulled out. Jenna collapsed onto the child-sized toilet. She was exhausted, still sailing on an orgasmic high, and feeling a sore asshole.
Jermaine wiped off his dangling cock with a damp, brown paper towel. She remained on the toilet, resting. Her chest lowered and raised like she had just run a marathon.
She heard him zip up his jumpsuit.
“Damn, you are hot. Got that tight ass. Never been so good, Miss Kennedy.”
She took a deep breath. “Fuck. You got me addicted.”
A moment later, she heard the bathroom door and then the classroom door close. Her asshole eased to its normal tension, although sore.
She checked her wristwatch.
“Monsters’ll be back in a few minutes,” she grumbled. But she put on her happy teacher attitude again.
She washed her hands and touched up her face that had a glistening sheen of perspiration. She straightened her messy hair.
She opened the bathroom door.
“Oh, shit!” She jumped back into the bathroom. She grabbed her panties and slid them up her thin legs.
Just after the tiny elastic band slapped against her narrow waist, the Kindergarteners barged into the classroom, as usual, after lunch.
Miss Kennedy appeared from the bathroom. She attended to her stride in order to make her walk casual and not seem that she had had a cock deep in her ass minutes ago.
“Welcome back,” she said, summoning some enthusiasm.
The kids continued to talk amongst themselves.
“Class, I am going to give you some free time. I will be at my desk,” Miss Kennedy announced.
She sat down too hard on her desk chair. She lifted up with a wince.
Cindy noticed. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Miss Kennedy?”
“Fine, Cindy, fine.” She eased her butt into the chair, allowing a wiggle that made the chair squeak.
Miss Kennedy scanned the room. “Kids, you all just have a little, quiet fun.”
“Miss Kennedy, your face is red and you look like your stomach hurts. Are you sure you’re okay?” Cindy asked.
“I am fine. I had a very good lunch.”
“What did you have for lunch?” Eric asked.
“Dessert. Now go and play unless you want to read.”
Behind the Door – An Erotic Story
Re: Behind the Door – An Erotic Story
Two chatty teachers headed to the parking lot at the end of the school day.
Seeing the custodian mopping the tiled hallway, they slowed their steps.
“Be careful, Jenna,” Natalia Hampton said, ending their chit-chat. “It’s wet. Don’t slip.”
She took Jenna’s thin hand.
“I’m okay,” the lean Kindergarten teacher said as she pulled away her hand. “You’re the one who’s in heels.”
Jenna and Natalia walked close to each other and took short, careful steps.
The man stopped his languid swishing of the mop.
When they had passed by, Jenna flung her silky golden hair over her shoulder.
“Hello, Jermaine.” Jenna offered a smile and a dainty wave. “Thank you for today.”
The dark man nodded graciously. He spoke as languidly as he mopped. “No problem. Glad to help.”
The pair looked at each other for a second too long, and the accompanying teacher noticed.
Natalia walked next to Jenna and touched her shoulder. “What happened today?”
Jenna was flippant. “Oh, nothing really. I needed his help in my classroom.”
Jenna then attempted to change the subject. “I am so excited that my class moved to the second chapter—”
Natalia stopped her. “A kid puke?”
“Huh?”
“Did one of your munchkins puke?”
“Yuck! No.” Jenna cringed, stiffening her back at the word.
“That nasty gerbil of yours get loose?” Natalia laughed gruffly.
Jenna frowned and curled her eyebrows in feigned anger. “Stop it now! Nibbles is not nasty.”
“Then what was it?” Natalia asked directly.
Jenna huffed.
“If you must know, I have this … my classroom has a washroom, okay. I think a student must have dropped a toy down in the toilet—maybe a block or something.” She looked over her shoulder. “Right, Jermaine? You saw more than me.”
“No kiddie mess. Just a toy, yes, ma’am, it was.” He gave a quick, bright grin.
He began mopping again. His back was bowed, and his eyes stared at the shining floor, not at Jenna.
“Mm-hmm.” Natalia stopped walking, while Jenna took only a few more steps.
Jenna felt Natalia’s dark eyes dart between her and the quiet Jermaine, moving his mop.
Natalia’s nose scrunched and her eyes squinted skeptically. This middle-grade teacher had noticed there was something to hide. Jenna knew Natalia instantly had transformed into a bloodhound, and the dog had just latched onto a scent.
Natalia adjusted the cross-body strap of her leather tote bag.
Standing there, things became more intense and worrisome for Jenna. The chemical smell of sharp bleach cleaner burned her nose, and the mop slopped, wet, on the well-worn tiles.
No doubt, Natalia was sniffing a scent too, but it wasn’t bleach.
Jenna needed to clean up the mess she had just made—having almost exposed hers and Jermaine’s fascinating alone time in her classroom earlier in the day.
Natalia’s mind must have been creating and conceiving all sorts of scenarios and situations.
Jenna decided, though, to give the squat teacher a direct answer to show she had nothing to hide.
“Really. Just innocent toilet problems. It’s, you know, kids.”
Natalia still didn’t move. She pushed her hand into her round hip.
Jenna flashed a pursed grin and switched the folders to her other arm. The folders, which had been held close, might have been deemed a defense shield—if a private eye or therapist were analyzing her moves. By shifting the folders, Jenna believed she conveyed that she was open to Natalia and not stonewalling. It was a subtle message of body language. She hoped it worked.
Natalia remained steadfast and staring, but Jenna just walked on. She tried to continue along without a worry and as happy-go-lucky as any Kindergarten teacher could be.
The hallway was quiet. Even Jermaine made no noise. Only Jenna’s tiny, white flats tapped on the hallway floor as she headed to the exit door.
Natalia gruffed. She stomped to Jenna’s side. Her heels clacked and echoed over the tiles. Her faint cigarette scent beat her to Jenna.
Jenna hoped the woman, with scenarios rolling around in her head, now believed she had sniffed a scent that led to a lot of nothing. However, the bloodhound didn’t give up. Natalia didn’t seem convinced there was nothing.
“I know on our end of the school,” Natalia said with squinted eyes, “it isn’t toys that get flushed down the toilet.”
“That’s because your preteen students have outgrown ‘happy’ school days,” Jenna said.
Natalia clamped her hand around the lash of her tote.
“They’re sick by the time they get to my class—sick in the head.”
As the teachers walked to the door, Natalia rummaged through her tote bag. “My keys gotta be in here.”
Seeing Natalia’s attention was elsewhere, Jenna gave a wink and a delicate wave to Jermaine. She mouthed a goodbye.
Natalia looked up just in time to see Jenna turning away from the man with the mop. She paused again, glancing back and forth between them.
Jenna left the building at a quicker pace, although not going fast enough to convey she had a secret—hopefully.
But, outside, Natalia blocked Jenna before she reached the edge of the parking lot pavement.
“Jenna.” She spoke sharply like a mother confronting a rebel daughter. “What’s going on? Tell me.”
“What, I can’t be nice to somebody?” She tightened the folders against her chest and headed around Natalia. She pointed her chin high in the air.
Natalia blocked her again.
“I can pinpoint a liar really easily,” she said, “and your eyes don’t hide much.”
Jenna walked around her again, avoiding eye contact.
Jenna passed a tall Ford pickup truck, with the hood as high as her shoulders, and then a blacked-out Mercedes. On the other side of the car, the lights on her shiny white Civic blinked orange. The doors unlocked.
She grabbed the door handle. But Natalia caught her before she could slip inside and close the door.
Natalia leaned her hip on the door and crossed her arms. She glared, lowering her chin.
Jenna had seen that scrappy glare. The mean bloodhound would not let go of the scent.
Jenna merely huffed. “Is this how you are in class? No wonder kids hate it.” She tried to smile after the cut. “For real, I had a problem today. Jermaine was nice enough to help. What more is there? Nothing.”
“Your cheeks are red and you’re trying to play coy.”
“Moi?” she said in a dramatic French accent. She touched her chest as if aghast by such an accusation.
“Yeah, you. Don’t play coy with me, missy. I have kids at home and a classroom full of liars.”
Then Natalia pointed a stubby finger. “The more you avoid answering, the worse my assumptions get. A toilet clogged by a toy turns into you flushing the joint.” She squinted, as if trying to see into Jenna’s mind.
“Gross! Marijuana? Please.” She moved to the car door. Natalia stepped away.
Jenna opened the door.
“Now, I’ve got to get home, Mrs. Hampton. I’ll see you tomorrow—maybe.”
“Listen, I can go right back in there to talk to that guy. Want me to?” she barked. “Do you?”
Natalia’s face was red.
Jenna tossed her folders onto the passenger seat. But before getting in, she took a step—coming inches from Natalia. She stood a head taller than the older, heavy-set science teacher.
Jenna answered slowly and steadily. “Go ahead. Talk to him. I have got nothing to hide.”
Ending their brief standoff, Jenna got into her car. She slammed the door closed.
The young teacher drove her compact car intentionally slow through the parking lot. She hoped to prove she really did not have anything to hide—her ploy all along that she feared was about to collapse.
Jenna sat studiously upright, hands at ten and two on the steering wheel. She did not look at Natalia as she passed.
Inside the car though, Jenna’s heart chugged, and her chest tightened as if running a race. This showdown shouldn’t have happened, and Jenna feared it wouldn’t end soon. For now, she hoped Natalia would not talk to Jermaine.
From the corner of Jenna’s eye, she noticed Natalia pointing at her, saying something—likely threating—and then pointing at the exit door. Jenna just rolled on.
When Mrs. Hampton was out of sight, Jenna tried to release her tension from the blowup. Jermaine would keep their secret.
Waiting for a traffic break at the parking lot exit, the car’s blinker clicked steadily. She nevertheless wished Natalia would not even go back inside.
Jenna suddenly slammed her hand on the steering wheel. “Mind your own business, bitch.”
Jenna left the lot, but, instead of heading home, she pulled into a concealed parking space at a restaurant that was a block from the school.
She wanted to see how long before Natalia left the school. She could determine whether she had spoken to Jermaine.
Only moments later, though, Natalia pulled out of the school’s parking lot in her dusty minivan.
Jenna’s shoulders eased, and she could breathe easier.
While parts of her calmed, she noticed other parts were overheated. She had just raced to the edge of orgasm based solely on the fear of getting caught. She had gotten fucked hard at school and then was almost exposed by another teacher. It was an odd erotic thrill.
“Holy shit!” She put her forehead against the wheel to let the rush of excitement subside. “My god.”
Soon, she backed out of the parking spot with extra care. Her mind was a swirling mix of fear, worry, and burning-hot arousal. She had to consciously control her right foot from pushing the brake pedal too harshly, jerking the car to a stop, as well as hammering the gas pedal, speeding ahead.
“Keep sane. Keep sane,” she repeated.
She made the right and left turns to home. No driving problems. At home, there was one other issue to deal with immediately.
She left her folders in the car. She zigzagged through her apartment, kicking off her flats. By the time she was in her bedroom, she had shed her messy panties.
She went directly to the nightstand. The rose-colored dildo! Her Ina, a close friend. She skipped the teasing murmurs and went straight to the wildest throb.
A hard thrust into her pussy and she was sailing again.
The day of hard sex, a rendezvous with Jermaine, a much desired, no-holds-barred fuck, near exposure of the deed, an after-hours orgasm. The onslaught of it all brought her immediately to a nuclear orgasm, rocking her body and leaving her on the bed fabulously fatigued.
After the body quake, the dildo rolled out of her hand, which was too zapped to keep hold. Her right leg dangled over the edge of the bed, toes barely brushing the carpet. She imagined it would be nice to get under her comforter. However, she didn’t want to move. She wouldn’t move. This tumult had her body and mind rocking, and tremors continued on, although slowly fading as she fell asleep.
Seeing the custodian mopping the tiled hallway, they slowed their steps.
“Be careful, Jenna,” Natalia Hampton said, ending their chit-chat. “It’s wet. Don’t slip.”
She took Jenna’s thin hand.
“I’m okay,” the lean Kindergarten teacher said as she pulled away her hand. “You’re the one who’s in heels.”
Jenna and Natalia walked close to each other and took short, careful steps.
The man stopped his languid swishing of the mop.
When they had passed by, Jenna flung her silky golden hair over her shoulder.
“Hello, Jermaine.” Jenna offered a smile and a dainty wave. “Thank you for today.”
The dark man nodded graciously. He spoke as languidly as he mopped. “No problem. Glad to help.”
The pair looked at each other for a second too long, and the accompanying teacher noticed.
Natalia walked next to Jenna and touched her shoulder. “What happened today?”
Jenna was flippant. “Oh, nothing really. I needed his help in my classroom.”
Jenna then attempted to change the subject. “I am so excited that my class moved to the second chapter—”
Natalia stopped her. “A kid puke?”
“Huh?”
“Did one of your munchkins puke?”
“Yuck! No.” Jenna cringed, stiffening her back at the word.
“That nasty gerbil of yours get loose?” Natalia laughed gruffly.
Jenna frowned and curled her eyebrows in feigned anger. “Stop it now! Nibbles is not nasty.”
“Then what was it?” Natalia asked directly.
Jenna huffed.
“If you must know, I have this … my classroom has a washroom, okay. I think a student must have dropped a toy down in the toilet—maybe a block or something.” She looked over her shoulder. “Right, Jermaine? You saw more than me.”
“No kiddie mess. Just a toy, yes, ma’am, it was.” He gave a quick, bright grin.
He began mopping again. His back was bowed, and his eyes stared at the shining floor, not at Jenna.
“Mm-hmm.” Natalia stopped walking, while Jenna took only a few more steps.
Jenna felt Natalia’s dark eyes dart between her and the quiet Jermaine, moving his mop.
Natalia’s nose scrunched and her eyes squinted skeptically. This middle-grade teacher had noticed there was something to hide. Jenna knew Natalia instantly had transformed into a bloodhound, and the dog had just latched onto a scent.
Natalia adjusted the cross-body strap of her leather tote bag.
Standing there, things became more intense and worrisome for Jenna. The chemical smell of sharp bleach cleaner burned her nose, and the mop slopped, wet, on the well-worn tiles.
No doubt, Natalia was sniffing a scent too, but it wasn’t bleach.
Jenna needed to clean up the mess she had just made—having almost exposed hers and Jermaine’s fascinating alone time in her classroom earlier in the day.
Natalia’s mind must have been creating and conceiving all sorts of scenarios and situations.
Jenna decided, though, to give the squat teacher a direct answer to show she had nothing to hide.
“Really. Just innocent toilet problems. It’s, you know, kids.”
Natalia still didn’t move. She pushed her hand into her round hip.
Jenna flashed a pursed grin and switched the folders to her other arm. The folders, which had been held close, might have been deemed a defense shield—if a private eye or therapist were analyzing her moves. By shifting the folders, Jenna believed she conveyed that she was open to Natalia and not stonewalling. It was a subtle message of body language. She hoped it worked.
Natalia remained steadfast and staring, but Jenna just walked on. She tried to continue along without a worry and as happy-go-lucky as any Kindergarten teacher could be.
The hallway was quiet. Even Jermaine made no noise. Only Jenna’s tiny, white flats tapped on the hallway floor as she headed to the exit door.
Natalia gruffed. She stomped to Jenna’s side. Her heels clacked and echoed over the tiles. Her faint cigarette scent beat her to Jenna.
Jenna hoped the woman, with scenarios rolling around in her head, now believed she had sniffed a scent that led to a lot of nothing. However, the bloodhound didn’t give up. Natalia didn’t seem convinced there was nothing.
“I know on our end of the school,” Natalia said with squinted eyes, “it isn’t toys that get flushed down the toilet.”
“That’s because your preteen students have outgrown ‘happy’ school days,” Jenna said.
Natalia clamped her hand around the lash of her tote.
“They’re sick by the time they get to my class—sick in the head.”
As the teachers walked to the door, Natalia rummaged through her tote bag. “My keys gotta be in here.”
Seeing Natalia’s attention was elsewhere, Jenna gave a wink and a delicate wave to Jermaine. She mouthed a goodbye.
Natalia looked up just in time to see Jenna turning away from the man with the mop. She paused again, glancing back and forth between them.
Jenna left the building at a quicker pace, although not going fast enough to convey she had a secret—hopefully.
But, outside, Natalia blocked Jenna before she reached the edge of the parking lot pavement.
“Jenna.” She spoke sharply like a mother confronting a rebel daughter. “What’s going on? Tell me.”
“What, I can’t be nice to somebody?” She tightened the folders against her chest and headed around Natalia. She pointed her chin high in the air.
Natalia blocked her again.
“I can pinpoint a liar really easily,” she said, “and your eyes don’t hide much.”
Jenna walked around her again, avoiding eye contact.
Jenna passed a tall Ford pickup truck, with the hood as high as her shoulders, and then a blacked-out Mercedes. On the other side of the car, the lights on her shiny white Civic blinked orange. The doors unlocked.
She grabbed the door handle. But Natalia caught her before she could slip inside and close the door.
Natalia leaned her hip on the door and crossed her arms. She glared, lowering her chin.
Jenna had seen that scrappy glare. The mean bloodhound would not let go of the scent.
Jenna merely huffed. “Is this how you are in class? No wonder kids hate it.” She tried to smile after the cut. “For real, I had a problem today. Jermaine was nice enough to help. What more is there? Nothing.”
“Your cheeks are red and you’re trying to play coy.”
“Moi?” she said in a dramatic French accent. She touched her chest as if aghast by such an accusation.
“Yeah, you. Don’t play coy with me, missy. I have kids at home and a classroom full of liars.”
Then Natalia pointed a stubby finger. “The more you avoid answering, the worse my assumptions get. A toilet clogged by a toy turns into you flushing the joint.” She squinted, as if trying to see into Jenna’s mind.
“Gross! Marijuana? Please.” She moved to the car door. Natalia stepped away.
Jenna opened the door.
“Now, I’ve got to get home, Mrs. Hampton. I’ll see you tomorrow—maybe.”
“Listen, I can go right back in there to talk to that guy. Want me to?” she barked. “Do you?”
Natalia’s face was red.
Jenna tossed her folders onto the passenger seat. But before getting in, she took a step—coming inches from Natalia. She stood a head taller than the older, heavy-set science teacher.
Jenna answered slowly and steadily. “Go ahead. Talk to him. I have got nothing to hide.”
Ending their brief standoff, Jenna got into her car. She slammed the door closed.
The young teacher drove her compact car intentionally slow through the parking lot. She hoped to prove she really did not have anything to hide—her ploy all along that she feared was about to collapse.
Jenna sat studiously upright, hands at ten and two on the steering wheel. She did not look at Natalia as she passed.
Inside the car though, Jenna’s heart chugged, and her chest tightened as if running a race. This showdown shouldn’t have happened, and Jenna feared it wouldn’t end soon. For now, she hoped Natalia would not talk to Jermaine.
From the corner of Jenna’s eye, she noticed Natalia pointing at her, saying something—likely threating—and then pointing at the exit door. Jenna just rolled on.
When Mrs. Hampton was out of sight, Jenna tried to release her tension from the blowup. Jermaine would keep their secret.
Waiting for a traffic break at the parking lot exit, the car’s blinker clicked steadily. She nevertheless wished Natalia would not even go back inside.
Jenna suddenly slammed her hand on the steering wheel. “Mind your own business, bitch.”
Jenna left the lot, but, instead of heading home, she pulled into a concealed parking space at a restaurant that was a block from the school.
She wanted to see how long before Natalia left the school. She could determine whether she had spoken to Jermaine.
Only moments later, though, Natalia pulled out of the school’s parking lot in her dusty minivan.
Jenna’s shoulders eased, and she could breathe easier.
While parts of her calmed, she noticed other parts were overheated. She had just raced to the edge of orgasm based solely on the fear of getting caught. She had gotten fucked hard at school and then was almost exposed by another teacher. It was an odd erotic thrill.
“Holy shit!” She put her forehead against the wheel to let the rush of excitement subside. “My god.”
Soon, she backed out of the parking spot with extra care. Her mind was a swirling mix of fear, worry, and burning-hot arousal. She had to consciously control her right foot from pushing the brake pedal too harshly, jerking the car to a stop, as well as hammering the gas pedal, speeding ahead.
“Keep sane. Keep sane,” she repeated.
She made the right and left turns to home. No driving problems. At home, there was one other issue to deal with immediately.
She left her folders in the car. She zigzagged through her apartment, kicking off her flats. By the time she was in her bedroom, she had shed her messy panties.
She went directly to the nightstand. The rose-colored dildo! Her Ina, a close friend. She skipped the teasing murmurs and went straight to the wildest throb.
A hard thrust into her pussy and she was sailing again.
The day of hard sex, a rendezvous with Jermaine, a much desired, no-holds-barred fuck, near exposure of the deed, an after-hours orgasm. The onslaught of it all brought her immediately to a nuclear orgasm, rocking her body and leaving her on the bed fabulously fatigued.
After the body quake, the dildo rolled out of her hand, which was too zapped to keep hold. Her right leg dangled over the edge of the bed, toes barely brushing the carpet. She imagined it would be nice to get under her comforter. However, she didn’t want to move. She wouldn’t move. This tumult had her body and mind rocking, and tremors continued on, although slowly fading as she fell asleep.
Re: Behind the Door – An Erotic Story
Miss Kennedy gasped as she stepped out of her happy Kindergarten classroom.
She had almost bumped into a tall man. Just before colliding with him, though, he grabbed her arms at the elbows.
In that momentary cincture, she melted in his grip. His hands pinned her arms to her sides. His large fingers encompassed her arms. His thumbs pressed into the bends of her arms.
Then he let go, saying easily, “Excuse me, ma’am.”
When he released her, she realized she had been captured, like never before. A prisoner.
She had been freed—as much on an emotional level as a physical—but she didn’t want to be free. Freedom was loss.
She adjusted her blouse and straightened her thin gold necklace. “No, excuse me.” Her voice fluttered. “I wasn’t expecting someone—you—to be …”
“Don’t much get to come down to the Kindergarten wing. Figured I should give it some attention.”
Jenna could not contain her bright smile. She was astounded that his quiet capture came with a silent growling masculinity. She had been without it throughout her life. No other man had had it or even came close to offering it to her. She had only read about its existence before that moment.
While still under the influence, the Kindergarten teacher became as happy as she could be. “Preventative maintenance. Good job.” She smiled broader. “We all appreciate having problems fixed before they’re problems.”
He gave back a simple grin, but Jenna knew there was more to it. His dark eyes drew her farther in.
Her eyes noticed something else though. It was something they had witnessed at some point somewhere. But her mind could not connect where or when.
Baffled, she offered him her classroom.
“Let me know if you find anything wrong in there. The kids are at recess for about ten minutes more, in case you need to poke around.” She took in a breath as she was a freed prisoner of this man. “Was just going to get them now. Taking my sweet time. Nice to see you.”
As she left, she flittered her fingers daintily.
“I’ll poke.”
“Fair enough.” And she left the man for the recess playground.
When she returned with her class of exhausted Kindergarteners, he was not there, or anywhere in sight. A lingering excitement of seeing him had kept her body jittery. But the hopefulness bottomed out.
“All right, kids,” Miss Kennedy announced, hands on her narrow hips, “start your individual lessons. Group One, practice writing the alphabet. Group Two, go to your reading hideaways. Group Three, work on your cut-out decorations.”
Having the kids in place and active, Miss Kennedy sat at her desk. She tried to focus on her usual teacher tasks—student reports and assessments that parents divine over. Yet her mind wouldn’t remain steadfast and focused. The man, who had held her so briefly, continued to razzle her mind.
She didn’t even know his name. The interaction was so fast that she forgot to ask. Neither did he ask. She only knew he was a custodian at the school.
At the end of the day, Jenna returned to her classroom from her carpool assignment. She plopped into her desk chair. She massaged her feet after pacing among the rows of idling cars, ensuring the young kids climbed into the right car to go home with the right parents.
To Jenna’s surprise, the man from earlier appeared in the door.
“Miss Kennedy,” he said.
She jolted in her seat. Her foot thudded on the floor. “Oh my, you startled me!”
She leaned back in her chair. The feelings of attraction resurged. “You came back. Any problems in the classroom?”
“Nothing obvious. But I wanted to ask if you knew something.”
“Um, I can’t think of anything. I mean, the school is aging so there are things that don’t work as well as they once did. The handles that open the windows don’t turn as easily. I have strength contests among the boys to get them opened fastest.” She shrugged. “The AC doesn’t cool as quickly, but the class can live with that. The sink drain could be cleaned …”
He interrupted her. “I really came back for—”
She shifted in her chair. “I knew there was a real reason.”
She placed her elbows on her desk.
He walked to her.
Still seated, she looked up at the broad-shouldered man with glistening black cheekbones and a smooth forehead. He was a giant compared to her.
“I’ve seen you before,” he said. “Not at school.”
She shook her head. “You know me? Aha.” She cocked an eyebrow. “From where?”
She shifted in her chair. The metallic pieces grated—ungreased metal on metal.
“How long have you been a teacher?”
Her sweet cheeks warmed. She was uneasy, despite this man having—unknowingly—wrestled control of her.
She let the chair roll back inches with a squeak. She balled up her hands in her lap. “I wonder where … where that might have been.”
“How long have you been at this school?”
“This is my fifth year.” She tried to remain happy and redirect the questions. “Have you worked here for long—Mister?”
“Not a teacher before this school?” he asked, ignoring her questions.
“I was, yes.”
The emotional control he had had on her a few hours ago waned as concern took its place. Her throat was parched.
“Kindergarten?” he asked.
“Not exactly teaching kids, but close.”
“Hmm.” He put his hands on the desk. His fingers were long and thick and calloused. “Do know the name ‘Ivory Noire’?”
She jolted upright, looked up directly at him—wide-eyed. She went silent. A vein thudded hard at her collarbone. She felt a need to stretch her neck, but she remained stiff, calm. Yet, out of his sight, her fingernails dug into her thighs.
“I, um, I haven’t.” She attempted a confused glare. “Is there a reason for, um, asking? It’s sort of, you know, out of the blue.”
He moved from the front of the desk to its side. He put one of his heavy boots on the wooden chair beside it, which was there for students’ punishment. He then set a forearm on his knee.
“I saw Ivory Noire dance a few times.”
“Oh, she a ballerina?” She choked out the words.
He tilted his head side to side. “Could be said so. Hadn’t thought of her that way. She was good though.”
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, Mister—?” She urged his name.
“Just Jermaine. No other name is necessary for the janitor.”
“Custodian, if you’re fixing things.”
“I plan to fix a few things, Miss Kennedy.”
She gulped. The crown of her head felt like it was squeezing in a tense pressure and soon would explode.
“My classroom is fine. I suggest—”
“Cut the bullshit, Jenna. You know Ivory Noire. She was around a long time ago. And she’s never left my mind.”
“Oh, she hasn’t? That’s, um,” she coughed, “that’s unexpected to hear. This ‘Ivory Noire’ would be glad to hear. I mean I assume she would.”
“Does she?”
“Does she? How could I know?”
Jermaine stood upright and examined her fiercely, skewering her with his eyes.
Jenna felt scared, panicky, and submissive all at once. Her body cowered. Her stomach hurt. Her head bowed toward her knees.
“If you see Ivory Noire …” Jermaine released her from his dominance. “Tell her I want to see her again.”
Jenna whimpered. “See—see her?”
“Yes, I want to see her dance again. Her tattoos, they were …” He paused.
A word lingered in the air: tattoo.
She breathed in. “Were?”
“I want to see them again. And her tits and cute ass. She’s already stared at me today. I want to see the rest of her. Like I used to.”
She dragged in a breath.
This man had cinched Jenna’s mind again, like he had physically at her elbows. He twisted her mind and made her want to do anything for him. Yet, she was afraid and in a strange circumstance—in school as a teacher. But his dominance and brawn pushed her to her knees, albeit mentally at the moment.
“When do you … um, when do you want to … see …”
“Now.” He nearly spit out the single word.
Jenna’s eyes scanned the room of cute cut-out decorations and dangling paint smocks and simple reading books.
“I’m not … She’s not available at the moment. School is …”
“I want to see her.” He spoke with a domineering pace.
“There’s no way that—”
He crossed his arms. “Get her.”
“Okay.” She stood. Her knees wobbled, and her heart beat so fast.
“Miss Kennedy.”
The call snapped the tension. The snap might have been audible.
A reading specialist for the school named Rachel peeked around the door. “I’m looking for a book that one of your students borrowed from me. ‘The Gray Goose’ is the name.”
Obvious from the woman’s face, the silence between Jenna and Jermaine was as heavy as Amazon humidity. The woman felt it too.
“I’m sorry, you two. I didn’t … I can get it tomorrow or the next … No rush.” She ducked out. Gone.
Jermaine lightened the humidity by staying his request.
“Tell her I want to see her tomorrow.”
Jenna was silent. Her mind was split and dysfunctional and excited and racing.
“She has lunch when she’s free—free for a little while.” Jenna offered a brightened face, although covered by a shimmer of worry.
“I’ll be here. Have her ready.” Then he left.
At home that evening, the metal hangers screeched down the cross-post in Jenna’s closet. She scrambled through her clothes, in part looking for tomorrow’s outfit, and as much, shaken at having been found out.
“He knew me,” she repeated. “When did he see me?”
Jenna slid right a hanger holding a plaid skirt and then studied a knee-length, A-line dress. She wasn’t actually considering whether to wear it but was considering what Jermaine actually wanted tomorrow.
She moved the hanger down the post.
The next hanger in the row held a violet pant suit. The pants had a crisp crease.
Standing there, she recalled a few of her dances—spinning around a narrow pole, placing both of her palms on the stage floor while her legs remained straight, doing a split to the floor and upward along the pole.
She opted against the pant suit.
It was years ago since she was Ivory Noire. She danced as a college gig to make money—a short-term job. And that was years ago—sort of. Her body was nowhere near as flexible since she hadn’t practiced. Her yoga classes these days hadn’t done enough for her body’s elasticity. Age hadn’t helped either.
A few hangers down, she came across a loose bohemian dress with short sleeves and a V neck. She lifted the hanger off the cross-post.
She stood before the full-length mirror next to the closet door. She shuffled side to side slowly, letting the dress swish.
And Jermaine had remembered her tattoos. On the back of each thigh were two small tatted bows. She initially planned to tattoo a thin line from the heel of her foot up the back of her leg to meet the bows. However, the steady prick of the needle when getting the bows hurt too much.
She stared over her shoulder at the bows in the mirror. They still looked good. She spent enough money for the well-done artwork. Her legs were toned too, which kept the bows tied nicely.
She liked the bohemian dress. It would cover enough while making it easy for her to show off. More importantly, the dress might not raise questions. She typically wore slacks and light-weight blouses.
The next morning in her classroom, Jenna sat at the desk, unable to focus. She was more like a statue, unmoving, until the kids arrived.
“Miss Kennedy,” Cindy said when entering the room. She set her backpack in her cubby. Almost immediately, the young girl noticed her teacher’s mood.
“Are you all right, Miss Kennedy? You look scared.” She stood at Miss Kennedy’s desk with her hands on the chair beside it. “Do you need to go home?”
“I am fine, Cindy.” Jenna forced a warm demeanor. “But thank you for asking.”
Soon, the other students arrived. And the morning started as the daily schedule dictated.
The day had no hiccups. At 11:07 in the morning, the mechanical monkey on Miss Kennedy’s desk clapped its cymbals and wildly tottered.
All the Kindergarteners stopped their activities and began to sing their cheerful song.
“Clean up, clean up! It’s time to! Clean up, clean up!”
Miss Kennedy tried to sing, but she could not keep the melody. Her heart pounded. A pulse at the base of her neck thudded.
The kids would be at lunch very soon, and Jermaine would want to see Ivory Noire.
Would he be happy? She hadn’t danced for years. What exactly did he expect—a dance or a peep show or something more? Did he actually expect it at school? Lunch break wasn’t long. How do I stop the show?
“Miss Kennedy!” several students were saying her name.
“Are you leading us to lunch?”
“Yes, yes, sorry. Off we go!” she ordered suddenly spritely.
She heard one boy say, “She’s got problems.”
Jenna knew these kids picked up on so many vibes. Their eyes scanned her actions and attitudes day in and day out. They knew her thoroughly.
Returning to the empty classroom, Jenna closed her eyes before entering the room. She inhaled deeply and then cast off fears. She had to do the same before each dance.
She felt as though she had passed through the sliver between the rough velvet curtains at the Three Crowns Club.
She would leave the grungy backstage and entered the glorious, blistering lights of center stage. She was no one behind the velvet, but, on the other side, she suddenly became the main attraction. The men loved her. Their hoots and howls and catcalls, even some of the odd things they uttered, were proof. They were animals. She sopped up their outright lust and lived off it.
She stepped into her classroom.
“Jermaine, you’re here,” she said when she saw him sitting behind her desk.
She nudged the door closed, letting it move silently.
The door clacked.
She strode pompously to her desk and grabbed control of the man, like she had done so many nights as Ivory Noire.
She flourished her dress and set a bared thigh on the desk. “I heard about you.”
Jermaine crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the desk chair. The chair ached aloud at the weight.
“So you heard of Ivory Noire?” she asked with her eyes squinted. She was casting the same demeanor of distance and power that she would shoot out at the audience.
“Never forgot you.” He glistened with a smile.
Jenna slid off the desk and turned her back to him. Then she bent down, her legs stiffly straight. She slid her hands up the back of her legs. She paused briefly just before the tatted bows would be bared. She glanced around. Jermaine was leaning forward in the seat. He had the demeanor of a wolf.
Jenna lifted the dress to bare the bows and her pink panties. She dragged her fingers over the bows.
She moaned.
Her fingers spidered to her panty line and pulled the soft fabric into her ass.
“Jenna.” A woman sing-songed her name.
Jenna stood upright. Her dress making a wild whoosh.
Rachel, the reading specialist, walked into the room. “About that book.” And she halted immediately like the day before.
Jermaine rocked back and forth, side to side, in the chair. “Sure, I will bring you a new one. Avoid sitting in it. It’s in bad shape.”
“Note taken,” Jenna said.
She turned to Rachel. “Looking for ‘The Gray Goose’? I haven’t found it.”
Jenna realized Rachel’s face was contorted in confusion. The heavy humidity in the room the last time she came now had turned into a monsoon.
Miss Kennedy added, “I can check for the book this afternoon. I’ll find it. You know how kids are. Trouble putting things back.”
“Sure, um, bring it to my room. I need to, uh, to, to go.” Rachel pointed awkwardly outside the door. Then she disappeared from sight like she had the day before.
Jenna and Jermaine were alone again. They were stuck in the monsoon they had made.
Jenna stood awkwardly, her shoulders slumped. At the moment, there were too many pop-ins to really be Ivory Noire.
He fixed the situation. “Tomorrow, I want to meet Ivory.”
“Where?”
“Having a problem with the sink drain in your little bathroom there, right?” he said.
“Oh, it’s always clogging up,” she said. “And the new chair?”
“You may get a chair, if I get to see the sink. You may even have to check whether the chair fits you.”
His comments clicked in her mind. Her shoulder shuttered at both the message and the goodness she was going to get. Even so, she was excited about what she was going to give him.
“Ivory Noire, yeah,” she said, “she needs some good attention. She doesn’t just play.”
“She will get more than she dreamed.”
Jenna nibbled the tip of her forefinger and twisted her hips like a happy little girl. All the while, she stared lustfully at Jermaine.
“She’s been dreaming a lot lately—a whole lot,” she said.
He stood.
She watched him. A beast of a man—tall and strong form, a gorgeous and powerful demeanor. He trudged to the doorway but stopped.
He came to her and cupped her petite butt, holding it in his giant palm. He didn’t let go.
So her hand meandered across his lean stomach and over the waistband of his pants. Her fingers felt the aslant cock covered by a rough layer of clothing.
“Feels nice,” she whispered.
“This does too. A cute ass.” He then squeezed hard.
She yipped and then batted away his hand.
He leaned close to her ear. “Someone wants to see more of me.”
She gulped. “Before you go, yes, I do …”
She was astounded that her confirmation came out so fast, with hindrance. This was not the time or the place to do anything.
She added quickly, “But …”
He walked to the door and closed it gently. Then he covered the narrow vertical window with the attached Velcro fabric.
With her fast-beating heart and the wet warmth between her legs, she silently urged him forward with a single finger and a lustful stare.
She walked to wooden ladder of the reading loft. She reached under her dress and shuffled for a moment. As she stood upright, the tiny fabric dropped to her ankles. A little shifting and she flung them toward her beastly classroom guest.
She stepped halfway up the ladder, splitting her legs.
“Coming up?” she asked.
Before he answered she disappeared into the discreet place of soft pillows and a large back-rest cushion.
On her hands and knees and arranging the pillows, a large hand first gripped her ass.
“Ouch!” She arched her back.
The gripping fingers then slid into her pussy. They brushed her clit. Her body paused. The touch was sensational. It was what she wanted—what she had forgotten she needed.
Her lengthy fingers deep inside her was one thing, as were toys. But she had not had mean fingers roughing up her pussy.
These strokes caused an immediate frenzy. Her back arched and her head drooped. Her eyes closed.
“My god!” She had to wipe her agape mouth. “Please, more,” she whimpered.
He didn’t though. Jermaine shoved her forward.
“Roll over, bitch. On your back.”
She fell against a back-rest pillow. Her legs naturally spread in her furious sexual desire. Her feet touched the wall and the railing.
Jermaine settled between her legs.
Jenna saw he was already naked from the waist down. His cock was long with a meaty head. She watched it meet her outer lips—a sweet kiss—before he jammed deep into her.
His cock rushed back and forth. Their bodies slapped and smacked. The sturdy reading loft, in no time, was rocking with their fucking.
Jenna circled her fingers over her clit, further intensifying the sex.
Her mind swirled. Her free hand held tightly to the pillow as if she was dangling off a cliff.
“Fuck… me… Don’t… stop.” The tendons in her neck strained. Her jaw clamped tight. Her toes clinched and her ass rubbed hard on the rough carpet.
She loved his hands’ mean clench on her small breast.
Moments later, her world escaped from her mental control. She released herself. Her body and mind were baked in golden luxury and coated with a sweet frosting.
Then, far away, there was the howl of a wolf, angry, hungry, losing control.
Inside of her, Jenna felt a heavy load of cum fill her tender.
Above her was a gritting and a hissing, a waning pressure, heaving breathes.
She opened her eyes to see the man casting his dark shadow over her.
He pulled out his long weapon, and Jenna felt the load drizzle out of her to drool down to cover her asshole.
She was top weak and unwilling to move to stop it from its ooze.
Jermaine climbed off the loft. Jenna remained there, unmoving. Her body remained in its stagnant state of lingering contentment.
“See me again,” she said. Her body could only muster a whisper.
“Use the pager.”
Jenna heard the quick zip of his pants.
“Tomorrow,” he added.
The classroom door opened. The last she heard was the simple click of the door lock.
Despite weak knees and a rug-burned ass, Jenna cleaned the room, arranging things as the kids would expect tomorrow—she checked her watch—in a few hours.
She had almost bumped into a tall man. Just before colliding with him, though, he grabbed her arms at the elbows.
In that momentary cincture, she melted in his grip. His hands pinned her arms to her sides. His large fingers encompassed her arms. His thumbs pressed into the bends of her arms.
Then he let go, saying easily, “Excuse me, ma’am.”
When he released her, she realized she had been captured, like never before. A prisoner.
She had been freed—as much on an emotional level as a physical—but she didn’t want to be free. Freedom was loss.
She adjusted her blouse and straightened her thin gold necklace. “No, excuse me.” Her voice fluttered. “I wasn’t expecting someone—you—to be …”
“Don’t much get to come down to the Kindergarten wing. Figured I should give it some attention.”
Jenna could not contain her bright smile. She was astounded that his quiet capture came with a silent growling masculinity. She had been without it throughout her life. No other man had had it or even came close to offering it to her. She had only read about its existence before that moment.
While still under the influence, the Kindergarten teacher became as happy as she could be. “Preventative maintenance. Good job.” She smiled broader. “We all appreciate having problems fixed before they’re problems.”
He gave back a simple grin, but Jenna knew there was more to it. His dark eyes drew her farther in.
Her eyes noticed something else though. It was something they had witnessed at some point somewhere. But her mind could not connect where or when.
Baffled, she offered him her classroom.
“Let me know if you find anything wrong in there. The kids are at recess for about ten minutes more, in case you need to poke around.” She took in a breath as she was a freed prisoner of this man. “Was just going to get them now. Taking my sweet time. Nice to see you.”
As she left, she flittered her fingers daintily.
“I’ll poke.”
“Fair enough.” And she left the man for the recess playground.
When she returned with her class of exhausted Kindergarteners, he was not there, or anywhere in sight. A lingering excitement of seeing him had kept her body jittery. But the hopefulness bottomed out.
“All right, kids,” Miss Kennedy announced, hands on her narrow hips, “start your individual lessons. Group One, practice writing the alphabet. Group Two, go to your reading hideaways. Group Three, work on your cut-out decorations.”
Having the kids in place and active, Miss Kennedy sat at her desk. She tried to focus on her usual teacher tasks—student reports and assessments that parents divine over. Yet her mind wouldn’t remain steadfast and focused. The man, who had held her so briefly, continued to razzle her mind.
She didn’t even know his name. The interaction was so fast that she forgot to ask. Neither did he ask. She only knew he was a custodian at the school.
At the end of the day, Jenna returned to her classroom from her carpool assignment. She plopped into her desk chair. She massaged her feet after pacing among the rows of idling cars, ensuring the young kids climbed into the right car to go home with the right parents.
To Jenna’s surprise, the man from earlier appeared in the door.
“Miss Kennedy,” he said.
She jolted in her seat. Her foot thudded on the floor. “Oh my, you startled me!”
She leaned back in her chair. The feelings of attraction resurged. “You came back. Any problems in the classroom?”
“Nothing obvious. But I wanted to ask if you knew something.”
“Um, I can’t think of anything. I mean, the school is aging so there are things that don’t work as well as they once did. The handles that open the windows don’t turn as easily. I have strength contests among the boys to get them opened fastest.” She shrugged. “The AC doesn’t cool as quickly, but the class can live with that. The sink drain could be cleaned …”
He interrupted her. “I really came back for—”
She shifted in her chair. “I knew there was a real reason.”
She placed her elbows on her desk.
He walked to her.
Still seated, she looked up at the broad-shouldered man with glistening black cheekbones and a smooth forehead. He was a giant compared to her.
“I’ve seen you before,” he said. “Not at school.”
She shook her head. “You know me? Aha.” She cocked an eyebrow. “From where?”
She shifted in her chair. The metallic pieces grated—ungreased metal on metal.
“How long have you been a teacher?”
Her sweet cheeks warmed. She was uneasy, despite this man having—unknowingly—wrestled control of her.
She let the chair roll back inches with a squeak. She balled up her hands in her lap. “I wonder where … where that might have been.”
“How long have you been at this school?”
“This is my fifth year.” She tried to remain happy and redirect the questions. “Have you worked here for long—Mister?”
“Not a teacher before this school?” he asked, ignoring her questions.
“I was, yes.”
The emotional control he had had on her a few hours ago waned as concern took its place. Her throat was parched.
“Kindergarten?” he asked.
“Not exactly teaching kids, but close.”
“Hmm.” He put his hands on the desk. His fingers were long and thick and calloused. “Do know the name ‘Ivory Noire’?”
She jolted upright, looked up directly at him—wide-eyed. She went silent. A vein thudded hard at her collarbone. She felt a need to stretch her neck, but she remained stiff, calm. Yet, out of his sight, her fingernails dug into her thighs.
“I, um, I haven’t.” She attempted a confused glare. “Is there a reason for, um, asking? It’s sort of, you know, out of the blue.”
He moved from the front of the desk to its side. He put one of his heavy boots on the wooden chair beside it, which was there for students’ punishment. He then set a forearm on his knee.
“I saw Ivory Noire dance a few times.”
“Oh, she a ballerina?” She choked out the words.
He tilted his head side to side. “Could be said so. Hadn’t thought of her that way. She was good though.”
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, Mister—?” She urged his name.
“Just Jermaine. No other name is necessary for the janitor.”
“Custodian, if you’re fixing things.”
“I plan to fix a few things, Miss Kennedy.”
She gulped. The crown of her head felt like it was squeezing in a tense pressure and soon would explode.
“My classroom is fine. I suggest—”
“Cut the bullshit, Jenna. You know Ivory Noire. She was around a long time ago. And she’s never left my mind.”
“Oh, she hasn’t? That’s, um,” she coughed, “that’s unexpected to hear. This ‘Ivory Noire’ would be glad to hear. I mean I assume she would.”
“Does she?”
“Does she? How could I know?”
Jermaine stood upright and examined her fiercely, skewering her with his eyes.
Jenna felt scared, panicky, and submissive all at once. Her body cowered. Her stomach hurt. Her head bowed toward her knees.
“If you see Ivory Noire …” Jermaine released her from his dominance. “Tell her I want to see her again.”
Jenna whimpered. “See—see her?”
“Yes, I want to see her dance again. Her tattoos, they were …” He paused.
A word lingered in the air: tattoo.
She breathed in. “Were?”
“I want to see them again. And her tits and cute ass. She’s already stared at me today. I want to see the rest of her. Like I used to.”
She dragged in a breath.
This man had cinched Jenna’s mind again, like he had physically at her elbows. He twisted her mind and made her want to do anything for him. Yet, she was afraid and in a strange circumstance—in school as a teacher. But his dominance and brawn pushed her to her knees, albeit mentally at the moment.
“When do you … um, when do you want to … see …”
“Now.” He nearly spit out the single word.
Jenna’s eyes scanned the room of cute cut-out decorations and dangling paint smocks and simple reading books.
“I’m not … She’s not available at the moment. School is …”
“I want to see her.” He spoke with a domineering pace.
“There’s no way that—”
He crossed his arms. “Get her.”
“Okay.” She stood. Her knees wobbled, and her heart beat so fast.
“Miss Kennedy.”
The call snapped the tension. The snap might have been audible.
A reading specialist for the school named Rachel peeked around the door. “I’m looking for a book that one of your students borrowed from me. ‘The Gray Goose’ is the name.”
Obvious from the woman’s face, the silence between Jenna and Jermaine was as heavy as Amazon humidity. The woman felt it too.
“I’m sorry, you two. I didn’t … I can get it tomorrow or the next … No rush.” She ducked out. Gone.
Jermaine lightened the humidity by staying his request.
“Tell her I want to see her tomorrow.”
Jenna was silent. Her mind was split and dysfunctional and excited and racing.
“She has lunch when she’s free—free for a little while.” Jenna offered a brightened face, although covered by a shimmer of worry.
“I’ll be here. Have her ready.” Then he left.
At home that evening, the metal hangers screeched down the cross-post in Jenna’s closet. She scrambled through her clothes, in part looking for tomorrow’s outfit, and as much, shaken at having been found out.
“He knew me,” she repeated. “When did he see me?”
Jenna slid right a hanger holding a plaid skirt and then studied a knee-length, A-line dress. She wasn’t actually considering whether to wear it but was considering what Jermaine actually wanted tomorrow.
She moved the hanger down the post.
The next hanger in the row held a violet pant suit. The pants had a crisp crease.
Standing there, she recalled a few of her dances—spinning around a narrow pole, placing both of her palms on the stage floor while her legs remained straight, doing a split to the floor and upward along the pole.
She opted against the pant suit.
It was years ago since she was Ivory Noire. She danced as a college gig to make money—a short-term job. And that was years ago—sort of. Her body was nowhere near as flexible since she hadn’t practiced. Her yoga classes these days hadn’t done enough for her body’s elasticity. Age hadn’t helped either.
A few hangers down, she came across a loose bohemian dress with short sleeves and a V neck. She lifted the hanger off the cross-post.
She stood before the full-length mirror next to the closet door. She shuffled side to side slowly, letting the dress swish.
And Jermaine had remembered her tattoos. On the back of each thigh were two small tatted bows. She initially planned to tattoo a thin line from the heel of her foot up the back of her leg to meet the bows. However, the steady prick of the needle when getting the bows hurt too much.
She stared over her shoulder at the bows in the mirror. They still looked good. She spent enough money for the well-done artwork. Her legs were toned too, which kept the bows tied nicely.
She liked the bohemian dress. It would cover enough while making it easy for her to show off. More importantly, the dress might not raise questions. She typically wore slacks and light-weight blouses.
The next morning in her classroom, Jenna sat at the desk, unable to focus. She was more like a statue, unmoving, until the kids arrived.
“Miss Kennedy,” Cindy said when entering the room. She set her backpack in her cubby. Almost immediately, the young girl noticed her teacher’s mood.
“Are you all right, Miss Kennedy? You look scared.” She stood at Miss Kennedy’s desk with her hands on the chair beside it. “Do you need to go home?”
“I am fine, Cindy.” Jenna forced a warm demeanor. “But thank you for asking.”
Soon, the other students arrived. And the morning started as the daily schedule dictated.
The day had no hiccups. At 11:07 in the morning, the mechanical monkey on Miss Kennedy’s desk clapped its cymbals and wildly tottered.
All the Kindergarteners stopped their activities and began to sing their cheerful song.
“Clean up, clean up! It’s time to! Clean up, clean up!”
Miss Kennedy tried to sing, but she could not keep the melody. Her heart pounded. A pulse at the base of her neck thudded.
The kids would be at lunch very soon, and Jermaine would want to see Ivory Noire.
Would he be happy? She hadn’t danced for years. What exactly did he expect—a dance or a peep show or something more? Did he actually expect it at school? Lunch break wasn’t long. How do I stop the show?
“Miss Kennedy!” several students were saying her name.
“Are you leading us to lunch?”
“Yes, yes, sorry. Off we go!” she ordered suddenly spritely.
She heard one boy say, “She’s got problems.”
Jenna knew these kids picked up on so many vibes. Their eyes scanned her actions and attitudes day in and day out. They knew her thoroughly.
Returning to the empty classroom, Jenna closed her eyes before entering the room. She inhaled deeply and then cast off fears. She had to do the same before each dance.
She felt as though she had passed through the sliver between the rough velvet curtains at the Three Crowns Club.
She would leave the grungy backstage and entered the glorious, blistering lights of center stage. She was no one behind the velvet, but, on the other side, she suddenly became the main attraction. The men loved her. Their hoots and howls and catcalls, even some of the odd things they uttered, were proof. They were animals. She sopped up their outright lust and lived off it.
She stepped into her classroom.
“Jermaine, you’re here,” she said when she saw him sitting behind her desk.
She nudged the door closed, letting it move silently.
The door clacked.
She strode pompously to her desk and grabbed control of the man, like she had done so many nights as Ivory Noire.
She flourished her dress and set a bared thigh on the desk. “I heard about you.”
Jermaine crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the desk chair. The chair ached aloud at the weight.
“So you heard of Ivory Noire?” she asked with her eyes squinted. She was casting the same demeanor of distance and power that she would shoot out at the audience.
“Never forgot you.” He glistened with a smile.
Jenna slid off the desk and turned her back to him. Then she bent down, her legs stiffly straight. She slid her hands up the back of her legs. She paused briefly just before the tatted bows would be bared. She glanced around. Jermaine was leaning forward in the seat. He had the demeanor of a wolf.
Jenna lifted the dress to bare the bows and her pink panties. She dragged her fingers over the bows.
She moaned.
Her fingers spidered to her panty line and pulled the soft fabric into her ass.
“Jenna.” A woman sing-songed her name.
Jenna stood upright. Her dress making a wild whoosh.
Rachel, the reading specialist, walked into the room. “About that book.” And she halted immediately like the day before.
Jermaine rocked back and forth, side to side, in the chair. “Sure, I will bring you a new one. Avoid sitting in it. It’s in bad shape.”
“Note taken,” Jenna said.
She turned to Rachel. “Looking for ‘The Gray Goose’? I haven’t found it.”
Jenna realized Rachel’s face was contorted in confusion. The heavy humidity in the room the last time she came now had turned into a monsoon.
Miss Kennedy added, “I can check for the book this afternoon. I’ll find it. You know how kids are. Trouble putting things back.”
“Sure, um, bring it to my room. I need to, uh, to, to go.” Rachel pointed awkwardly outside the door. Then she disappeared from sight like she had the day before.
Jenna and Jermaine were alone again. They were stuck in the monsoon they had made.
Jenna stood awkwardly, her shoulders slumped. At the moment, there were too many pop-ins to really be Ivory Noire.
He fixed the situation. “Tomorrow, I want to meet Ivory.”
“Where?”
“Having a problem with the sink drain in your little bathroom there, right?” he said.
“Oh, it’s always clogging up,” she said. “And the new chair?”
“You may get a chair, if I get to see the sink. You may even have to check whether the chair fits you.”
His comments clicked in her mind. Her shoulder shuttered at both the message and the goodness she was going to get. Even so, she was excited about what she was going to give him.
“Ivory Noire, yeah,” she said, “she needs some good attention. She doesn’t just play.”
“She will get more than she dreamed.”
Jenna nibbled the tip of her forefinger and twisted her hips like a happy little girl. All the while, she stared lustfully at Jermaine.
“She’s been dreaming a lot lately—a whole lot,” she said.
He stood.
She watched him. A beast of a man—tall and strong form, a gorgeous and powerful demeanor. He trudged to the doorway but stopped.
He came to her and cupped her petite butt, holding it in his giant palm. He didn’t let go.
So her hand meandered across his lean stomach and over the waistband of his pants. Her fingers felt the aslant cock covered by a rough layer of clothing.
“Feels nice,” she whispered.
“This does too. A cute ass.” He then squeezed hard.
She yipped and then batted away his hand.
He leaned close to her ear. “Someone wants to see more of me.”
She gulped. “Before you go, yes, I do …”
She was astounded that her confirmation came out so fast, with hindrance. This was not the time or the place to do anything.
She added quickly, “But …”
He walked to the door and closed it gently. Then he covered the narrow vertical window with the attached Velcro fabric.
With her fast-beating heart and the wet warmth between her legs, she silently urged him forward with a single finger and a lustful stare.
She walked to wooden ladder of the reading loft. She reached under her dress and shuffled for a moment. As she stood upright, the tiny fabric dropped to her ankles. A little shifting and she flung them toward her beastly classroom guest.
She stepped halfway up the ladder, splitting her legs.
“Coming up?” she asked.
Before he answered she disappeared into the discreet place of soft pillows and a large back-rest cushion.
On her hands and knees and arranging the pillows, a large hand first gripped her ass.
“Ouch!” She arched her back.
The gripping fingers then slid into her pussy. They brushed her clit. Her body paused. The touch was sensational. It was what she wanted—what she had forgotten she needed.
Her lengthy fingers deep inside her was one thing, as were toys. But she had not had mean fingers roughing up her pussy.
These strokes caused an immediate frenzy. Her back arched and her head drooped. Her eyes closed.
“My god!” She had to wipe her agape mouth. “Please, more,” she whimpered.
He didn’t though. Jermaine shoved her forward.
“Roll over, bitch. On your back.”
She fell against a back-rest pillow. Her legs naturally spread in her furious sexual desire. Her feet touched the wall and the railing.
Jermaine settled between her legs.
Jenna saw he was already naked from the waist down. His cock was long with a meaty head. She watched it meet her outer lips—a sweet kiss—before he jammed deep into her.
His cock rushed back and forth. Their bodies slapped and smacked. The sturdy reading loft, in no time, was rocking with their fucking.
Jenna circled her fingers over her clit, further intensifying the sex.
Her mind swirled. Her free hand held tightly to the pillow as if she was dangling off a cliff.
“Fuck… me… Don’t… stop.” The tendons in her neck strained. Her jaw clamped tight. Her toes clinched and her ass rubbed hard on the rough carpet.
She loved his hands’ mean clench on her small breast.
Moments later, her world escaped from her mental control. She released herself. Her body and mind were baked in golden luxury and coated with a sweet frosting.
Then, far away, there was the howl of a wolf, angry, hungry, losing control.
Inside of her, Jenna felt a heavy load of cum fill her tender.
Above her was a gritting and a hissing, a waning pressure, heaving breathes.
She opened her eyes to see the man casting his dark shadow over her.
He pulled out his long weapon, and Jenna felt the load drizzle out of her to drool down to cover her asshole.
She was top weak and unwilling to move to stop it from its ooze.
Jermaine climbed off the loft. Jenna remained there, unmoving. Her body remained in its stagnant state of lingering contentment.
“See me again,” she said. Her body could only muster a whisper.
“Use the pager.”
Jenna heard the quick zip of his pants.
“Tomorrow,” he added.
The classroom door opened. The last she heard was the simple click of the door lock.
Despite weak knees and a rug-burned ass, Jenna cleaned the room, arranging things as the kids would expect tomorrow—she checked her watch—in a few hours.