Chris had done a lot of preparation for the interview.
Ravine Point Preparatory was a highly exclusive private high school, tucked away deep in the woods of Virginia. Small classes. Individual attention. The pay would have been fantastic for the average school-year teaching position, but Chris was after a different position; a few years back they had begun a undergrad preparation summer program for all the filthy rich eighteen-year-olds they could lure into the gingerbread house. Chris had his sights set on teaching in that program, and it was a strange one.
It was open to any college-bound student, not just Ravine Point grads. There were no advertisements in any school newspapers, and no mention on the Internet. It was strictly word-of-mouth. And it had been a stunning success, apparently, because they were seeking over twenty new instructors for the upcoming summer. Chris had only heard of the job through a friend of his father’s, whose youngest daughter had completed the program and gone off to Yale. Chris was young himself, with only a few short years of teaching experience, but the girl’s father had patted his shoulder and assured him that he’d be perfect for the position because his little girl said so, and he gave him all of the necessary contact info.
He aced the preliminary interviews. They clearly found his ignorance of the program’s specifics endearing. On the call-back interview, they filled him in on all of the specifics. Chris really wanted this job. He would be given a private apartment in the nearby town (nearby meaning twenty-five minutes), excellent benefits, and he was very excited about fulfilling his educational duties. But he had received no calls, no letters for a long while. It was frustrating how certain these rich folk were that they could make you wait. Not that they were wrong. And then, out of the blue, Chris was informed that there was possibly room for one more instructor. It was very close to the start of class. In fact, this final interview was scheduled for the first day of classes, early in the morning, before the students arrived. He forgot his prior misgivings as he threw his possessions into suitcases and drove down south.
They had given him a temporary apartment, which would become his permanent quarters for the summer if he was accepted. He had almost forgotten his new door key before rushing to his car, and he followed the directions to the campus flawlessly. He was ten minutes early for his appointment as he strode through the main doors of RPP Hall. Around the corner to his left was the office of Ms. Laney Francis, Director of Faculty Affairs.
“Hello there! You must be Mr. Chapel. It’s wonderful to meet you.”
Chris’ breath grew short as he closed the door behind him. Laney was a gorgeous woman. Older than him, mid-thirties. Bright, intelligent green eyes. Dusty hair done up in stylish braids. She was short, about five-two, and wore tobacco-colored Jimmy Choos on her bare feet. What really caught Chris’ attention was her dress, an elegant short-sleeved black number, cut in a way that seemed to draw extra attention to the perfectly tanned skin on her bare legs. Chris was now aching to work with her.
“I apologize for the short notice, Mr. Chapel.”
“Oh, it’s no problem at all.”
“I assume you’ve been told what your duties will entail?”
“Yes. A homeroom period and three to four forty-minute class periods per day.”
“Absolutely. Students will travel to your room. Some will be gender-mixed, but some will be all female.”
“The classes used to be all one gender, right?”
“Oh, Mr. Chapel. You’ve done your study. That’s good.”
Her face was bright and smiling, but Chris could not see underneath. He couldn’t read how well he was really doing. Laney bent down to open a small electric cooler beside her desk. Her dress rode slowly up her thighs, revealing no tan lines, only soft olive skin. She rose holding two bottles. She handed one to Chris: a hard lemonade.
“Sit down, Mr. Chapel. Enjoy your drink.”
Chris sat nervously. Laney settled in behind her desk, cracked open the bottle, and took a rather vulgar chug, downing almost half of it. Chris opened his own drink, underestimated the kick of the formula, and gurgled a small amount onto his dress shirt and tie. Laney, who fortunately had swallowed completely, bellowed with laughter.
“Very impressive sir! Excellent! Points for etiquette!”
Chris blushed with embarrassment as he wiped his lips. His face only grew redder as Laney threw her legs upon her desk, leaning back in her chair, her feet suddenly inches from Chris’ face.
“So, if we may officially begin, Mr. Chapel, what do you have to offer our student body that makes you… stand out?”
Enough mild humiliation. Chris knew he had to lock the job right now or he’d be cleaning out his room in a half-hour.
He removed his sports coat, loosened his tie, and pulled it over his head. Laney pursed her lips.
“Let‘s. Hear. Your. Answer. Mr. Chapel.”
Chris carefully seized Laney’s right foot, lifting it from its prior resting place atop her other foot. Her toes wiggled inside her footwear. Chris darted his tongue out and sharply grazed the tips of her toes.
Laney yelped in the manner of a little girl upon spotting a naughty mouse. She giggled huskily at her own surprise. Chris began to run his tongue between her toes, moving in wider arcs with each pass, until her was licking the top of her feet, tasting the straps of her sandals. Very expensive.
Laney tossed back the rest of her drink, sucking deeply on the top of the bottle to extract the final drops. Chris slipped off her sandal, and dropped it to the ground. Even her feet were flawlessly tanned. He sucked on her toes gingerly as she cooed, and he kneaded the sides of her foot.
“Mmmmmmm. Pass me your drink, Mr. Chapel.”
Chris obeyed without looking up from his work. Laney sucked down all of Chris’ drink as her other shoe tumbled off, and her toes tickled with sparkling warmth and pleasure.
“I love these drinks, Mr. Chapel. They taste soooo good and they relax me.”
She gently flicked her toes against the top of Chris’ mouth.
“Come on. On your feet. Show me your body while I get another drink.”
“Will you need to relax after seeing it?” asked Chris as he stood.
“Don’t you hope, sweety.”
Laney’s bare feet hit the floor at the same time as Chris’ dress shirt. He made sure to remove his socks as well as his shoes; there was no telling if Laney would find them cute or merely silly. Laney rose from the cooler with her drink in time to see Chris’ dress pants fall, leaving him in only a comfortable pair of navy blue briefs.
“Oooh. Very nice. Not too muscled. A little lanky. Good.”
Laney nibbled on the cap of her drink.
“You seem to have been very… enthusiastic about my feet, Mr. Chapel.”
Chris suddenly realized that he was very aroused, and his erection was quite evident.
“Well, I’m enthusiastic about all of you, Ms. Francis.”
“And our students I hope,” said Laney, twisting the cap.
“I’ll show them twice as much as I’ve shown you.”
“Oh, you’ll lick their ankles too?”
Laney chortled and took a small gulp, and smiled warmly.
“I’m very warm from these drinks, Mr. Chapel. You’d better make your interviewer comfy.”
Chris grinned and walked behind Laney. Her back was arched from taking a huge swig, and the zipper on her dress melted downward. Her butt was hugged by cherry red cotton panties, devouring her tasty thighs. Chris moved in front of her, and pulled her dress forward, revealing a matching bra. Her belly vibrated as the sweet alcohol filled it, and Chris’ penis grew sensitive with ecstasy, tiny spasms pushing clear liquid onto his briefs as he soaked her in.
“This has to be the best job a person could have,” Chris whispered.
“It wasn’t always like this, Mr. Chapel. I think I’ll tell you while our interview proceeds.”
She grinned as she set her bottle on her desk.
“I want you to lick me all over. Every nook and cranny. I’ll tell you the story as you work. Don’t worry, I have been told by trusted sources that I taste fabulous.”
She was absolutely right.
***
Dave Fulton and Lucy Waltham met on the first day of the first year of Ravine Point Prep’s Summer program. This was years ago, as we all know, and the program was at that time far closer to what other schools would offer. Dave taught English, Lucy taught Science, and they were the entire faculty. Lucy had been on the staff during the regular school year; Dave had just gotten the job for the summer. He was a younger man, a newish teacher of only twenty-seven, compared to Lucy’s thirty-six. There was barely enough interest that first year; classes were segregated by gender, only Ravine Point grads from that prior year could attend, and there were not enough interested students to warrant other classes, like Math. But the Crosses, the richest family in town, or several towns, or most towns, were adamant that their oldest children, twins Summer and Chet, would have a thorough education, so the program was begun. You can’t argue with several billions of dollars of personal wealth.
A curious thing happened on Dave and Lucy’s first day together. They hadn’t spoken at all, save for awkward greetings at the top of the morning. Lunch came, and the two sat alone, as the small crowd of indulged eighteen-year-olds chattered away to the side. Lucy had thick black glasses, straight brown hair, and Dave thought she looked very stolid chewing her sandwich. Lucy thought Dave was something of a jock; he was kind of buff, and his hair was quite short.
But…
Dave liked her serious features. She looked very pretty, really. He liked how she carried herself.
Lucy thought he was a cutie, really, as she nibbled at the crust. A nice guy.
They continued to exchange glances, looks, eye-contact. Lucy put her sandwich down and stood up. Dave stood up too. Lucy began to walk out of the cafeteria, and Dave followed her. She pushed open a side door, and the two descended to the basement, then further to the boiler room.
