There are some women who just give you the horn, you know? It doesn’t work the same way for everybody but the first time I saw Miss Truscott I started to get a hard on. A couple of my mates couldn’t see what the attraction was. They said she was too aloof, but that was part of it for me. That and the way she walked, well, strode around the school courtyard. She had amazing tits. They jutted as she walked. I could have watched them all day.
She didn’t notice me though. Why should the new Head Chef for the entire school notice a mere junior groundsman? And she didn’t just cook for the pupils; she prepared the menu’s for all the staff and the governors as well. She was a pukka Cordon Bleu Chef.
It’s a private school and the old codgers liked their food. They could afford the best. So it was some of the tutors and housemasters who monopolised her attention. It was obvious that I wasn’t the only one who thought she was attractive. Trouble was all I did was wander round dressed in a pair of old overalls so I probably stood the least chance of getting a look in.
That is until I volunteered to look after the vegetable garden. The head groundsman, old Charlie, was a bit surprised when I said I’d do it. It wasn’t exactly in character. Up until then I’d been happy to mow and mark out the rugby pitches and to do the maintenance on the athletics track.
Thing is I didn’t exactly have green fingers. I could look after the basic stuff OK. It was when I did a spot of weeding that I really got into trouble. I managed to pull up the entire Herb garden. Some of them were Chinese and quite rare apparently.
Charlie was furious. He told me I’d be lucky to keep my job. He said that the final vote lay with Miss Truscott, who wanted to see me the next morning at nine o’clock, ‘ready to make amends’.
Since she had the Governor’s Annual Ball coming up he didn’t hold out much hope for me. I’d hoped that doing the garden would get me closer to her but now I was not so sure.
Even though the next day was a Sunday, my day off, I was hardly in a position to complain. It was a lovely summer day too. Hot, with a clear blue sky. I spruced myself up a bit. Put some aftershave on, a little gel in my hair. I still had to wear my overalls though. Charlie had made it clear that ‘making amends’ would involve some work.
I was nervous when I knocked on her door and when Miss Truscott opened it the polite speech of contrition that I’d rehearsed all morning got stuck somewhere in my throat. It’s difficult to be contrite when you’re getting an erection.
She was wearing a knee length tweed skirt, dark nylons and her trademark black patent court shoes. She had on a tight white blouse that accentuated the thrust of her breasts. Jewellery was kept to a minimum. Her nails though, were painted red. Her hair was swept behind her ears and she looked at me with cold green eyes.
“Well?” She said.
“Er, Miss Truscott.” I said. “I’ve come about the herb garden. I’m the one who....”
“Yes, I know.” She replied. There was a silence. She was waiting for something.
“I’m sorry.” I said, and, without meaning to, hung my head, looking at her shoes. It was weird. I did feel sorry. I did feel contrite. Mainly though, I was glad my overalls were baggy because otherwise my cock would be tenting the front of them. My boxers weren’t doing much to contain it. It’s difficult to explain. She just has that effect on me.
She handed me a piece of paper. “This is the bill for the replacement herbs that I have had to buy.” She said. I looked at it. It was a lot of money, more than I earned in a week. “How are you going to repay me?” She asked.
“I.. I can’t afford this.” I replied. “I mean, I’m sorry, but...”
“But you could lose your job.” Miss Truscott interrupted.
“If I lost my job I definitely, couldn’t possibly pay you back.” I said quickly, looking up at her. I paused. “I could save up. Pay you back a bit at a time.”
She thought about it. “We’ll see.” She said. “For the moment the new herbs are out at the back. I expect to see them planted by dinner time. I’ll be out every half hour to check up on you. Don’t slack.” Then she closed the door behind her.
What did I do? What do you think. I started planting Herbs. After half an hour she came out to check on progress and made me replant almost everything that I had done. It was funny though; as I heard the sound of her heels clipping away from me on the concrete path I found myself looking forward to her return in half an hour.
By the time she came back I had undone the top half of my overalls and tied them around my waist because of the hot sun. I’d begun to work up a sweat too. Miss Truscott made me put it back on saying I was ‘improperly dressed’. At least this time she didn’t make me replant anything.
Half an hour later she returned with a glass of lemonade in her hand. ‘Things are looking up’ I thought. Then she calmly drank it as she watched me work; telling me as she did so to replant the Chinese herbs. Then her heels clicked away once again.
Miss Truscott returned twice more before I was finished. Each time my heart raced at the sound of her approach and my prick twitched and grew in her presence. Each time she criticised my work. Not once did she call me by name.
Just after midday I finished work and knocked on her door once more. As I did so it swung open and, without thinking, I stepped in. I took two or three paces before calling out but there was no reply. I was thirsty. And I could see her kitchen. Without thinking I found her fridge and helped myself to Miss Truscott’s lemonade.
Just for once, just when I needed to, I didn’t hear her footsteps. “What are you doing in here?” She hissed, making me jump and consequently I spilled drink down the front of my overalls.
She moved quickly, grabbing me by the ear lobe, forcing me to my knees.
“You really are a bad person, aren’t you?” She said. “You wreck my garden, sneak into my house, steal my drink and then make even more mess.!”
