Teaching Her A Lesson
Part Nine: Core Curricula
Every other Tuesday in our district was an e-learning day for the students. For most of them, it meant sleeping in, waking up two minutes before sign-in was required for attendance, then brushing their teeth and eating breakfast while they half-listened to their first recorded lecture of the day. Then another lecture or two, along with a series of half-cocked worksheets and quizlets that were so basic it insulted even the dullest student's intelligence. While the student body had been excited for it at the onset, after a while the comforts of home became less and less of an allure. E-learning meant no socialization, boring lessons, technical glitches, minimal engagement, and a tragic exacerbation of the hardships our impoverished students suffered.
For teachers, it was little better. The morning was a series of meetings, most of which were either updates on the state DoE's latest bit of fuckery or collaborating to respond to them. The afternoon was departmental work on curricular coordination, which had its place early in the semester, but by this time of year was simply each department cramming themselves into one teacher's room and getting their own work done, then pretending to be working together if Mrs. Horen popped in.
Everyone hated e-learning Tuesdays. The only exception was probably the school's business officer, for whom the one in ten days of instruction with no students was an opportunity to stable the buses and turn off the AC as she watched those savings mount.
That Tuesday, however, I walked into the building with a spring in my step.
"Good morning, Amy!" I motioned a tipping of my nonexistent hat.
Mrs. Cook Burfield smiled behind bleary eyes. She'd had a new kid only last fall, and her sleep schedule was still in shambles. "Morning, Mr. Canon. You seem chipper this morning."
"Just off to a good start this week. And hey, it's the second-to-last e-learning Tuesday of the year."
"I suppose it is. How 'bout that."
"Save me a seat in the caf, all right?"
She offered a fist bump, which I heartily returned explosion and all. I let myself into good old H121 and set down my briefcase. The combo lock entered, it clicked open and I emptied it of last night's workload, sorting the papers into piles by period number.
For the first time in weeks, there was no Serenex in it. There was no more need.
Megan had confessed everything, crumbling like a cookie in a woodchipper. And of course she did. A hundred
I will enthusiastically cooperate with and support anything Mr. Canon wants
left her little choice. Was it a tad extreme? Maybe. The time for half-measures was over, however. No more light touches that left outcomes up to chance. No more second-guessing myself. Last night, I got stuff done.
As for the budding extortionist, her story had been simplicity itself. As the new and improved Isa opined while we heard her spill the beans, criminals were generally not the masterminds that they were on TV. Megan had seen Abbie in my driveway, recognizing her from her daughter's school. She'd thought it a little strange, and far more so when I came out and hurriedly ushered her car into my garage. She hadn't even seen Abbie sneaking naked out my bedroom window, as it turned out. Megan had simply been suspicious and decided to take a closer look. She used the excuse of walking Pepper, then peered in and saw what Abbie had been doing. Our friendship had quickly been squelched by her then-inaccurate perception that I was sleeping with a student, and greed had taken over. That she had used Megan's credit card had been sheer coincidence. Her own cards were maxed out -- hence the blackmail.
With the interrogation over in minutes, Megan then deleted the pictures from the prepaid phone, the originals on her own phone, and her backups on the cloud. My neighbor apologized and swore she'd never tell anyone about anything I did that might be seen as inappropriate or reflect poorly on me. Isa took it one step further, and at her suggestion I directed Megan to let me know immediately if she heard or saw anything that might assist Isa with her protector duties. They exchanged numbers, in case I couldn't be reached. All of it ran so much better than the half-assed improvised plans we'd been relying on to date.
If I'd had any worries that Megan might misinterpret my commands or find a way to weasel out of them, her daughter Cassie had put those to rest. Once I'd started Isa and Megan on their copying, I'd turned my attention back to Cassie. There hadn't been much more needing doing with her beyond the usual swearing to secrecy, and by the time she'd finished that up, the girl had been starting to come around. I'd told her to go home and keep an eye on Robby, get some homework done while I tended to the other two. Eventually, though, I'd gotten her number from Megan and called her back over to make sure she was coping all right. After all, she was innocent in all this.
"How are you feeling, Cassie?"
"Pretty weird? I dunno. Like, this is all kinda crazy. Is my mom OK? The way you two were acting earlier was pretty wild. Like, you could make her do anything at all! Is that how she's gonna be from now on? And if so, do you think you could ask her to let me go camping with Derek's family next weekend?"
"I'm sitting right here, sweetheart, and trust me, that is not happening. Unless you think otherwise, Mr. Canon."
"Your mom's got the last word on this one. Sorry."
"It's OK. It would have been cool, but I already figured that was how it was gonna be. Anyway, are we gonna have sex now?"
"Um, what?"
"Cassie Brown! That is unbelievably inappropriate!"
"He called me over, Mom! Did he not tell you I'm his personal bootycall? I gotta say, it feels amazing. Not that I've never done it before, but... Mmm."
"Cassie, you stop that this instant!"
"Moooooom, you're being super lame! There's nothing wrong with having fun pleasuring Mr. Canon."
"There most certainly is!"
"No, Megan, there's not. I want her to give me a blowjob."
"Oh. Oh, I see. Well, if that's what you want..."
"So I can, Mom? Really?"
"Of course you can. Make it a good one."
"Now I should warn you, I've never sucked anyone's dick before -- pardon my French -- even though my ex-friend Owen told all his friends that I did, but it was only a handjob and he came, like, right away. I guess he got embarrassed. Maybe that's why he lied about it, so if I told anybody they'd think I was the one making stuff up? Boys are weird, Mr. Canon. Oh wow, you're like, already hard! Well, here goes nmmfmm...!"
"Mind your teeth, sweetheart."
Megan had sat by, smiling dotingly and offering the occasional sage bit of blowjob wisdom as her daughter did her best to get me off. It was a far cry from Abbie and Taylor's tag-team a few hours earlier, but it wouldn't be much of a test of Megan's loyalty if I didn't push her limits. Cassie was caught off guard by my very telegraphed orgasm and coughed up all manner of jizz onto herself. Her mother gently scolded her for making a mess on my floor. Then, as Cassie tried to mumble an apology around a mouthful she hadn't yet figured out she should swallow, Megan fuzzed her head and told her to toss her clothes in the laundry and she'd get the cum cleaned out for her before it stained.
Isa had been well and thoroughly satisfied that the girls would not constitute a breach of security. I'd agreed, then patted her ass and told her to get home and work on patching things up with Candy. She giggled, waited until I was done squeezing, then sashayed out of my house with a wink and a smile.
The new Isa was going to be a lot easier to get along with.
Making Mr. Canon happy is my second priority
, read fresh papers in my home office, right under the original outlining her first priority as my protector. I'd had her go two hundred times, for good measure. Bitch.
Candy's judgmental glances and Taylor's sulkiness were the only burrs left in my saddle, but those could play out. The former was probably a good check on my impulses, reminding me where the lines were supposed to be. As for the latter, it was nothing short of the sexiest thing in my world.
That morning, as Mrs. Horen explained the newest wave of modifications to our curriculum-standards re-realignment that would be necessary under HB 117, I was monitoring Taylor's progress on my posted assignment exploring bias and propaganda. Her letters appeared on my screen as she worked. She typed faster than I would have thought for someone who copy-pasted most of their essay paragraphs.
Hi, Mr. Canon,
she typed after a few minutes. She must have noticed I was logged into her assignment. The words were immediately backspaced. Smart girl. No traces, on the off chance another teacher happened to do the same.
