Debris Pt 01 Songs From A Room

"All in there, Joseph?" Ms Wing asked.

"I think so," He told her, looking over the box filled with a projector, cables, and a laptop.

"Oh, hold on, I'll get a mouse." She turned away from the door and back toward the computer equipment stored in heaps in the room.

A menacing rumbling came suddenly from the door. Ms Wing spun on her heel as the sound jangling keys distanced itself, accompanied by footsteps. "Oh, no..." she said, took two large steps back toward the door. She pressed down the handle, to... nothing.

"Hey!" She banged on the door. "We're in here!"

Nothing. Not after a minute of banging.

"I guess everything's closing up," Joe said. They were in the school after hours, practicing a presentation he was supposed to give in front of the whole school, about a project which landed him a scholarship.

"Does he have earphones in or something?" Ms Wing exclaimed in panic.

"Do you have a key?" he asked. "Like a universal key?"

"No, I don't have any keys." She got out her phone. "I don't have reception down here, do you?"

I checked. "No."

She put the phone back in her pocket --- "So..." --- turned around, and resorted to banging on the door again. "Hey! There's somebody in here!"

I put the box down on the floor. "It's like we're in a sitcom."

"Oh, yes, Joseph, it's so

funny

to be locked in a basement."

"Better to laugh about it, isn't it?"

"Oh, I don't feel like laughing, Joseph," she said in a quick turnaround. Then, another couple bangs on the door.

"Worst thing, we get out in the morning, Ms Wing," he said, trying to calm her.

"I wasn't exactly

planning

on sleeping in the computer room in the basement, without any... sanitation."

"Oh, that is a problem."

"Do you hear that? That's the live studio audience laughing, isn't it?"

"You're a real Chandler, Ms."

"I don't want to tell you to shut up. But shut up."

20 Minutes Later

The student-teacher pair sat desolately on the floor of the chairless room. It was a Napoleonic scene---the Emperor standing on the shores of St. Helena, reminiscing on his lost conquests. Well, maybe not so dramatic. They were just locked in a room. But the air of desolation was universal, whether to French emperors or people having a bad day.

When nobody had said anything for a couple minutes, Joe resolved to sing, like a prisoner in the 1800s: "Hello darkness, my old friend. I've come to talk with you again. Because a vision..."

Instead of telling him to shut up, the teacher actually chimed in: "Because a vision softly creeeeping, left its seeds while I was sleeeeping..."

"You're a good singer, Ms Wing," he said after the first verse. She had sung way better than him. "You should be on that teacher band."

"Nah," she rebutted. "Annoying bunch. I'm surprised we can't hear drum banging right now."

"They need a good singer."

"Try telling

her

that." That meant Mrs Richards-Stone, the band singer.

"Oh, you don't like Mrs Richards-Stone?" he asked slyly.

"I'm not gonna talk to you about which teachers I like and don't."

"Not even a little?"

"Well, I like some, I don't like most."

"You're not very popular, are you?"

"Well, I'm kind of in the cool kids club, as teachers go," she said.

"Alright," he chuckled.

40 Minutes Later

The mood was not getting any better. With time, it seemed to decrease exponentially.

"Well, by this time everybody's left," Ms Wing mumbled, her head in her lap.

"Well, they should, about time to go to bed." Even Joe was not much in the mood for jokes anymore; he, too, had his head in his lap.

"Let's talk about something, Joseph, pass the time."

"Alright," came the muffled response, "what music do you like?"

"Folk and some Country."

"Like Johnny Cash?"

"Sure. You?" she asked.

"80s and 90s Rock. I really like Nirvana and Guns'n'Roses."

"That's kind of embarrassing."

"What?"

"Just kidding. This might be inappropriate, but do you have a girlfriend?"

"It is. And no. You, boyfriend?"

"Not at all. I pretty much drive my car to work and drink on the weekends. That's all I do."

Joe hummed to express his sharing in her fate. "Me too, but I call it school."

"Ain't we a lucky bunch," she surmised, "nothing going on and spending the night in a cold basement room of a small town high school. Well, you just got this scholarship, so you won't have to be a teacher."

"You don't like to be a teacher?"

"I like to tell myself that I do, because it's something somebody has to do, but sometimes I wonder what I could have been."

"You're not a failure or something. You're a good teacher."

"Thanks."

"You're a damn good student."

They stopped talking again. Alice Wing thought on how it was that she had no boyfriend; had not for some time. She thought on how she slipped out of the prime of her life. And weirdly, she thought about Joseph White. How he seemed more like an adult than she herself, who was supposed to be one. How good-looking he was; a forbidden thought. This room was spinning her head around like a yo-yo. Of course

she

would be locked in here, finishing off a bad week with a horrendous day. Fuck.

And then a crazy thought came to her. She tried to fight it down, to no avail.

An Hour and Thirty Minutes Later.

They were trying to sleep. On the concrete floor, with little to no warmth, it was not a story of success. However Joe twisted and turned, something was bound to ache. And Ms Wing was thinking hard on her life; how she managed to end up in this cold basement, locked in a school. She guessed it was just where she ended up, no use sulking. But she still did sulk there on the floor, whether or not there was any use. The whole ordeal felt symbolical of her failure in life. No lock picking, no hammering, no nothing worked to get her out of here. The world was just outside, but she was inside, and she could only hate herself on cold concrete. Maybe she should have written plays after all.

Joe was in better shape. It was just bad luck, to him. He would get through the night, and then he would get out of here. He did not know what to tell his teacher, though. The nature of the relationship would make it difficult to comfort her in some way; she was an authority figure after all. He resolved to not saying anything. It made it weird, but that was the least weird it could be.

But Ms Wing sat up suddenly. "Joe?"

"Yes?" he mumbled.

"Would you sleep with me?"

Mumbling, as he straightened, Joe said, "What?"

"Please don't take this in the wrong way. I just... really want to sleep with you. I think it would make me very happy. Have you... ever thought about it?"

Joseph pressed his fingers over his eyes, trying to come to terms with reality. "No! Well, I guess... like every teenager would..."

"You probably think teachers don't do that. Well, I do, sometimes. Not that I ever wanted to... prior to being locked in here... but I really want to."

"What would that mean, if anybody found out?"

"You're eighteen, so it wouldn't be a crime, I guess. But I'd be fired."

"Are you... sure? It would really make everything weird."

She smiled---a bit. "I think I need something weird. Do you want to?"

"Yes," he said softly.

She stood up---slowly, like in a ceremony---and came over to him. It was not a great distance, but it felt special, that coming over. Then the older woman sat down in front of him, smiling at him like the first day of summer. She was his teacher, a woman of some authority, but also beautiful. He realized none of the girls his age had that... air of maturity. Yet she looked so vulnerable.

There was no more looking at faces when Ms Wing leaned in to kiss him. Then they were embraced in hot unity. This was what they wanted, what they needed. And so they embraced in that dark storage room, her aggressively kissing, him being kissed. Ms Wing took one of Joe's idle hands and planted it on her breast, giving him encouragement. He didn't need much of it, as he started feeling the supple and tender skin through her tight shirt and bra. The breast, which was not small at all, seemed to melt in his hands. He caressed it, kneaded it, cupped it.

Not caring about the hardness of the concrete, Ms Wing pulled Joe down on the ground with her under him. She quickly unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, and guided the active hand under her blue panty, into what was beneath it. He felt around in that hot wetness, again caressing and feeling around. With his thumb he thought he found the clit, giving it his full attention, while also putting two digits inside her. All the while they were still kissing. Ms Wing---Alice, he should say, Joe thought---gave him approving moans as Joe pleasured her, like he had done often (to great approval) with his two previous girlfriends.

Alice, under Joe, felt like a teenager again. Maybe that was what made woman who were called cougars; feeling young again. She was young, as things went, but birthdays were not so much fun anymore, and every time a new wrinkle appeared Alice wanted break her mirror into a thousand shiny shambles. She felt like the night she had lost her virginity. A typical Hollywood cliché, she had lost it to Hugh Wilmer in a barn, playing in the hay. Like with Hugh Wilmer, Alice felt the soft prickly beard stubble on Joe's skin. She took a hand to fell across his hard cheek.

Oh, man!

Hugh hadn't been that skilled! Joe

was

making her young again! She felt the heat rise into her cheek and could not suppress another moan into his mouth. She enjoyed the tension rising in her. She had forgotten to be human the last few years, she realized.

She was a bit surprised as she felt already getting close. How could he be that good? She squirmed and twisted by the sudden onset of increasing pleasure. She stopped the kiss to say "faster." (Not much say---it was more like a flat breath of a word.) He did not have to be told twice. Greedily he thrust in and out of her, giving that sweet spot the attention the teacher so desperately craved. Another desperate moan and she slung her arms around him, pressing him on her, as she came. The orgasm faded into a soft afterglow, which faded into satisfaction.

They remained embraced for a few moments. Alice released him and pushed him up. She looked at him with her red satisfied face, him looking at her questioningly. "You're good at that," she told him, like she was grading a paper. "Turn around?"

He raised his eyebrows, then turned around. She scooted up behind him, wrapping her legs around him. He should get something back, she supposed, and unzipped his pants, pulling them up, with his help, to his knees. She followed up with the boxer shorts greedily, already seeing outlined what hid under them. The reawakened teenager in her was amazed at his size. Which didn't matter, of course, chipped in adult Alice. She spit in her hand and went to work. She stroked across the length of him slowly, pressing her lips to his cheek.

Joe felt comfortable with her around him. Safe, somehow. And also simply great, because she was giving him a hell of a handy. Never too bad, that. Ms Wing started to lick his cheek; he wondered how much she had and did get around. He couldn't wonder too much, because his teacher's hand, pleasantly cold, was jacking him off.

"What do the boys say about me?" she moaned serenely into his head.

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on! Boys talk, don't they?"

"There's a phrase," he said carefully.

"A phrase?" She missed a stroke, but started again. "What phrase is that?"

"Uh..." he hesitated.

"Come one, say!"

"'I'd like to put Wing on my thing,'" he quoted Tyler Benson.

She gave a sudden wheeze. "Do you, now? Whoever came up with that, you'll have a story for him."

"That might just remain a story untold."

"Hmm. You'll laugh at him in your mind."

"There was also a group chat for your English class two years back. Guess what is was called."

"What?"

"'Ms Wing has a nice ass.'"

She slapped him lightly on the chest. "Come on!"

"Well, it wasn't my idea. And... it's true."

"Oh, it

is

true." She tuned her voice down to a low whisper. "And Joseph White has a big cock."

With that, she picked up the pace, turning gentle strokes to hard pumps; melting Joe in her embrace. He groaned from the spike of pulling pleasure.

"You like that?" Alice breathed in his ear? "Aren't you such a good student?" She stuck her other hand back into her soaking pussy, stimulating it softly; she already seemed to long for more.

When he groaned again she stood up and lifted up her shirt, undid her bra. She kneeled down in front of her sitting, exposed student. She leaned in, bringing the pair face to face, and resumed her motions. "You've had this in your pants all of these lessons," she said slyly. "And here we are. I'm not gonna be able to look at you in class..."

In faster and faster strokes she strangled his mind. Thinking about looking at her

in class

after this gave him the notion he might be walking around with a hard-on the entire school day. What would be really weird would not be the looking, but speaking to one another in a professional tone in front of a classroom of unsuspecting pupils. Talking professional, when she was going faster and faster... when he was about to...

Joe lost his train of thought, because at that moment he finished with an electrical release, that familiar warm-cold goodness. As if he was not almost jumping out of his skin already, Alice continued jerking him off through the pumps, as the ropes of cum were already striking her full breasts and her stomach.

Alice smiled. She had forgotten she could be such a slut. That slut had been locked away deeply (except for porn-fueled fantasies) since college. Here, in a basement, loads of cum on her, that slut climbed out again, wondering why she had had to hide all of these years. The slut in her now giggled like a girl on prom night. She had never allowed a boy to finish on her, not into a condom, since Hugh Wilmer. But there she was, soaked in semen like a whore on Jefferson Street.

"Don't leave," she jested, and went to a table where a box of dry paper towels stood. She had to be clean for what would naturally follow in a few minutes.

After that perverted exchange of handy pleasantries, they laid out their clothes by the radiator (which, thankfully, let itself be turned on), cuddling in the most comfortable environment this room would give them. (Joe put on a rubber he had with him---when Alice asked how often that had ever done him any good, he said better to be prepared than not, right?) The warmth of the heater, the warmth of their bodies, and the warmth of their kisses combined to make winter summer, turn desolation to shared happiness. Cuddling like they had just been born anew, they moved on the floor like mermaids glide through water. They movements were perfectly rhythmic and synchronous, the embrace of each one's respective partner obvious.

At some point Alice decided to roll around until she was on top of him, grinding her upper body idly against his, while still greedily eating up his mouth. They locked hands and harmoniously flowed over the floor. At some point, Alice decided to check in on Joe, reaching behind her, landing on... hardness. She let her hand glide across it, finding some cum left over.

She was not going to jerk him off again. Instead she presently raised herself up and down again, landing on him, absorbing him; taking in his love. She gave him an approving moan, and lowered her head again, tickling him with her hair. She decided to take it slowly, merely resuming what they had been doing anyway---making out---now with him in her. It made a pleasant thing great, knowing him in her, knowing she was complete. So many men had not made her feel complete. Joe made her complete, whatever that would mean for her. A small part of her even wished he hadn't had a condom on. Only a small, irresponsible part.

Slowly accelerating, like shifting gears, she started to move, for it was not him by himself who induced pleasure, but the movement, the activity, the feeling of life. She glided across him, over him, so overwhelmingly filled. It pushed all the right buttons.

Joe was all ready again, and Ms Wing already started to make him weak once more. He didn't just enjoy this because she was his teacher, and landing a teacher was a universal boyhood dream, but also because he liked the woman. As a teacher of course, but also the way she talked. And the way she loved him, the way she allowed him to love her. It could not be, of course, this relationship. But it

had to be

.

Without any apparent reason, other than just being happy, Alice suddenly giggled at him. Joe did not know why she did it, but he knew that he agreed, and he laughed too. She moaned softly and picked up the pace again, shifting front and back (and a bit side to side, too) on him. "I think I'm gonna suck you off every time I see you around school," she whispered.

"I mean, if you want to..."

Alice rose with her upper body, tickling Joe with strands of hair hanging down like curtains. She smiled at him. And though it was a smile framed by dim neon lights, lying on heaps of clothes, in a basement, it felt like a smile against the backdrop of the sun to Joe, lying on dewy grass on the outskirts of civilization. Well, he certainly had not expected to turn back to a pubescent fantasizing idiot when he had accepted her offer. He thought it would be his first mature sexual encounter with a woman, because she was, well, mature. But he looked at her with the same dreamy eyes that he had so often gawked at pretty girls with. There was no simple exchange of sex here. There was that fantastic smile, that black hair that made old neon lights escape the sun.

Where he was he running with his thoughts? He couldn't fall for his teacher! Well, she had started this whole thing, had she not?

I can't fall for a student! Alice thought. Well, it was not her fault that fate had put a smart, handsome man in front of her; and locked her in the basement with him, no less!

"But seriously," she said, lowering her pace. "What do we do after we're out of here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would you... do we... again?"

"I would want to. But we cannot neglect the danger we'd put ourselves in."

"I'd like sneaking around," she said. "It would be exciting." As if for emphasis, she picked up the pace again.

"It would only take somebody spotting me at your house by chance and connecting the dots to fuck it all up."

"Which won't happen. You'll just say you're going out; I'll pick you up a couple blocks from your house; what could happen? You could take the bus."

"I suppose we could try," he said hesitantly. "I'd like to try, actually."

"Me too," she said.

That smile defeated Joe again. Her movements, too. She lowered her head again to kiss him, and concentrated only on her loins. Up and down, up and down, up, down; faster and faster. It was all a blur of movement and pleasure. Abandoning the kiss, she settled her head on his shoulder. Gripping him tightly, she gave over all worries to the tornado of passion. There was no reason to worry, no reason to look back or ahead. There was the moment, there were the woman and the man. With mechanical rhythm she gave them both what they needed. Up and down, to some eventual finish line. They both could see it.

Alice came first. She practically convulsed on him, which sent Joe over the edge, in turn. He groaned as the pleasure came again. The violent orgasm reminded Alice of just how

fast

she had gotten. There was hunger in her. She only wished Joe would take the risk with her. He wouldn't be a student forever.

She climbed off him unceremoniously and lay down next to him on the heap of clothes. He put an arm around her and there they snuggled.