Many, many years ago I made an appointment with a counsellor to attempt to understand myself and live a more fulfilling life. One of the first things she asked me to do was to write a sexual fantasy for her, which I did. I sent it to her as requested so she'd have time to peruse it before our next session. But I never heard back from her. Anyway, this is the fantasy:
I had just avoided a slippering from the green track-suited, stocky, and powerfully built, sandy complexioned, Mister Butcher the P.E. teacher, when the internal phone buzzed...
October 1973: I was just eighteen years of age and my name, Matt Triewly.
'Butch', as he was more commonly known, marched over and with barely concealed irritation, picked up the receiver.
"Sports hall, Mister Butcher speaking... yes, he is... right you are!"
The sports master turned and then barked at me in his strong Yorkshire accent: "Triewly! Get yourself down the headmaster's office - pronto!"
I felt momentarily self-conscious as I briefly became the focus of attention for the class. I made for the exit, pushing against the reinforced glass of the wooden framed doors, and emerging into the corridor. My bare feet padded on the mica tiles and bar a pair of borrowed navy-blue sports shorts, I was completely naked, the wearing of underpants being forbidden on the grounds that they were unhygienic after a vigorous and sweat inducing games session.
That day, however, I had forgotten my kit bag, fortunately, Joe Bayley's mother had slipped his old shorts into his bag should his newly purchased ones proven unsuitable for whatever reason. Joe, by lending them to me had saved me from the trauma and humiliation of a three-stroke, full force, slippering with a gym shoe in front of the rest of the class.
Two weeks previous I had received one stroke for being late and that was bad enough - the pain was horrendous, though thankfully subsiding rapidly. At home that night I had, by twisting round uncomfortably, inspected my naked buttock in the bathroom mirror - there was a patchy purple-black imprint of a sole on my soft pink skin, and still tender to the touch!
Anyway, Butch had exercised clemency on this occasion for me not being suitably attired and I was permitted to continue with the gym session topless. 'But' he had added chillingly, 'there would be
no
second chance!'
I carried on down the long corridors past classrooms where I would catch glances from other pupils. I wondered why I had been summoned to the Head - I wasn't aware of any wrongdoing.
The Downs High School was comprised of three separate buildings: two blocks for general education and one exclusively for science and technology. The school had become comprehensive after a merger between the neighbouring Grammar and Secondary Modern schools.
I now left the East Block by its main door and into the sunny but chilly autumn air, a gentle gust of wind causing me to shiver slightly due to my partially clad state.
I felt conspicuous, and not a little embarrassed when passing giggling female students.
I don't suppose it had taken me more than five minutes to reach the headmaster's study - it had seemed longer though. I knocked tentatively on the plain wooden door, yet I was convinced I had nothing to fear.
A crisp, 'cut-glass', female voice bade me to enter. I did so.
Miss Katherine Adams, the recently appointed headmistress, sat upright at her desk. I cannot deny the fact that she was entrancing - she was in her early thirties with boyish bobbed hair framing a neat-featured, face tanned from active outdoor pursuits. Her build and posture confirmed her athleticism, but most of all I was struck by her eyes: piercing and cobalt blue.
"Why aren't you properly dressed for physical education?" she enquired, calmly enough.
"I forgot my kit, but I managed to borrow some shorts, Mister Butcher said it was okay this time--"
She broke in abruptly: "In future, Mister Butcher will be instructed to administer a severe slippering to any boy who breaches the dress code, however minor. The problem with this establishment is that we are still suffering from the laxity of the previous incumbent," her voice softened, "to continue, I haven't called you in to berate you for your oversight..."I breathed a little easier but
What a bitch!
I thought. Rumour had it that she was a lesbian and even had a partner.
"Well, I must say that your academic record, apart from French, is good, Triewly. I would imagine that you will do rather well in life..." she looked me up and down, "and love."
I felt rather awkward at the last remark but started to feel relaxed as the meeting was obviously concerning some of my recent job applications.
"What are your plans when you leave?" she enquired sincerely enough.
"I'm actually hoping to join the Civil Service working in the field of Chemistry."
"You don't feel that perhaps your career would be better served by attaining A' Levels then University?" she suggested.
"Um, probably but there are part-time college courses such as O.N.C and H.N.C which are well recognised, besides my mother is unable to work and my father is on a modest income. I don't want to be a financial burden to them."
"Perhaps you are right, an individual will naturally find their true level within a career structure regardless of qualifications, which brings me to
