One of the major events of the school year—at least to the people involved—in the New Jersey town where I worked as an English teacher was the annual cheerleader competition, which was held at the Civic Center in the state capital of Trenton. It was a two-day event, over a weekend, so the students and their parents and chaperons would have to stay overnight.
Rooms were booked at the Marriott, and they were for: 12 cheerleaders, four to a room, two teacher chaperons, and two parent chaperons. Any other parents who wanted to go had to arrange for their own rooms.
Like most of the other teachers, I would do anything to get out of it since I had no personal involvement with cheerleading. But chaperons were assigned on a rotating basis, and this year it was my turn, as well as that of the geography teacher, Paul Martin. We were expected to share a room. And the fact that I was single and lived alone made me more vulnerable to being called; I had no excuse to get out of it.
The opening ceremonies and the lunch took place in the middle of the day at the hotel, after which we all had the afternoon off until the evening competition, which began at 7. Some went out sightseeing, but there are not many sights to see in Trenton, so Paul and I decided to stay in the room, I with a good book, and Fred planning to watch a football game involving his old university, Rutgers.
We were so occupied when around 3 p.m. there was a knock at the door. Still in my white hotel terrycloth robe from the shower, I went over and opened it. Standing outside in a similar white terrycloth robe and barefoot was Katie Dawson, 18, captain of the cheerleading squad. With blond hair and a cute perky face, she not only was the prettiest cheerleader of the squad; she also was the most beautiful young lady in the school.
"Can I ask you a favor?" she asked.
"Sure."
"I need to take a shower, and there are now FIVE girls in our room, all wanting to hog the bathroom. Could I possibly use your shower?"
I turned. "Paul! Can Katie Dawson use our shower? Her room is crowded."
"I guess so.'
I waved her in and returned to the bed and my book. She went into the bathroom.
About twenty minutes later, she emerged. She looked squeaky clean, and her hair was all wet. She was toweling off her hair. "Can I stay here until my hair dries?" she asked.
"Can Katie stay here until her hair dries?" I called to Paul.
"Sure."
"Okay."
"I'm going to go out on the balcony," she said, carrying her hairbrush. "It will dry faster there.' She opened the sliding glass door and walked out to the small balcony. Paul was watching the TV, and I was about to look at my book. But it came as no surprise to me when she turned to face me, leaned back against the railing, untied the belt of her robe, and let the robe fall open. I looked with admiration and a smile on my face at the cute little blond tuft at the bottom of her belly and the pink lips below it. And I guess I have to confess at this point that Katie and I had been "friends" for most of her senior year. It had started one day after the rehearsal of "Romeo and Juliet", which I was directing and in which she was the star. I had thought the dressing room was empty. But it was not. She was there, and she was naked. I found out later that she had planned the whole thing.
I put the book down on the bed and walked out on the balcony.
"What do you think you're doing?" I asked.
"Drying my hair," she said with a smile.
"Which hair?"
"Guess."
"Looks to me like you're flashing the neighborhood."
"You're the only one who can see me."
I looked around to make sure Paul could not see us, then I pressed my body against her naked form and kissed her.
"I want to do it," she said.
"How?"
"I don't know. You tell me. There's a bed in there and a naked girl here. There must be some way we can do it."
"Paul wants to watch a Rutgers football game on TV, and it's just starting. I can't very well ask him to leave."
"Then think of something." "....Would you be willing to do it with him in the room?"
