The Amulet Of Aphrodite Ch 01

David studied the new chemistry teacher Ms. Thompson. She was short, perhaps five feet tall without heels. She was wearing a bulky jacket today, as she almost always did. However, her shapeless clothing didn't fully conceal her thin frame, with narrow shoulders and almost no hips.

David thought Ms. Thompson's best feature was her face. She always had a kind expression, with thick, black rimmed glasses framing warm eyes.

As soon as the new teacher had arrived at their school, David had liked her. Although they didn't get many chances to talk, David felt an easy connection with her. He felt relaxed and confident around her, as if they had known each other for years.

"...That's why rare earth metals are used in virtually all modern electronic equipment," Ms. Thompson concluded.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. The class began to pack up their things.

"Class hike tomorrow! Don't forget to bring rain gear!" Ms. Thompson announced as people began to trickle out.

David walked out to his locker with Greg Adams, his best friend.

They were a mismatched pair. David was average height and size, while Greg was tall and thick, built like an ox. They were best friends and known each other since elementary school.

"So what do you think of our new chem teacher?" Greg asked him.

"Ms. Thompson? She's cool," David said. "I liked today's lecture."

"You like all her lectures, man," Greg said. "You're such a teacher's pet."

"No, I'm not," David said just a little too quickly.

Greg stopped and stared and David. "Woah, man. A bit defensive much? You're not sweet on Ms. Thompson, are you?"

David said, "No, of course not."

Greg was like a dog with a bone when he found something to hold on to. "You are, man! Wow! Why Ms. Thompson?"

"Ssshhh...." David said. "Keep it down!"

"Oh, sorry," Greg said. He leaned in and said in a loud whisper, "Why do you like Ms. Thompson?"

"I don't like Ms. Thompson," David protested. He paused a beat. "But even if I did, so what?"

"I mean, I can see wanting to get it on with a teacher," Greg said. "The forbidden fruit and all that. But if you were going to go after a teacher, Ms. Thompson would be the last person I would pick. She is so un-hot."

David was bothered by this. "Come on. She's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Woman's as flat as a board! My twelve year old cousin has more curves than her," Greg said.

"Really? Are you sure? She's always wearing teacher clothes," David said.

"I can tell," Greg said, grinning. "Can't you?"

David said. "You're a breast guy."

"And proud of it," Greg said. "Gimme a pair of big jugs any time. Something I can grab," he said, crudely mimicking a palming gesture, as if he were holding a pair of basketballs.

"There's more to chicks than tits, Greg." David said.

"Yes," Greg responded with mock seriousness, "there's also ass."

David snickered. Greg was an idiot, but he was David's best friend. "Some girls have personality, wit, and... that special something. A spark, maybe."

"Nah," Greg said dismissively. "Dating a girl without great tits only makes sense if you can't find a girl with great tits who will date you. And if you can't find a girl with great tits, you get a girl with good tits. And if you can't find that, you should just give up."

"You're an idiot, Greg," David said, laughing.

"And proud of it," Greg said, guffawing. "Hey, but seriously. If you're going to go after taboo booty, make sure it's HOT taboo booty, all right? Don't waste your time with Ms. Thompson."

***

Carol Thompson held up her shirt and sighed. She was going to hate this hike. She disliked public events outside the classroom because she never knew what to wear.

The truth was that she felt intensely self-conscious about her appearance. Her face was okay, but it wasn't anything to write home about.

She was most insecure about her body. When she was a girl, as other girls had begun to fill out, she maintained the same boyish frame. Throughout high school, she had looked with jealousy around the women's locker room at the bodies of her classmates as they had filled out through adolescence.

With another sigh, she picked a loose fitting pair of sweat pants and a billowy windbreaker. Hopefully she could hide in these.

***

It was a warm, sticky afternoon. The class chattered excitedly as they followed the dark and windy path. The combined science classes of Thompson High were on their long-planned trip, a hike through a hilly forested area. Dark clouds had gathered over the sky.

The last two people in the line, just barely keeping up with the rest of the group, were David and Greg.

"So," Greg said, looping one meaty arm around David's shoulder. "What do you think of our little hike?"

"It's nice," David said blandly. "I feel like we're in elementary school again."

"Yeah, but the girls are so much hotter now," Greg said. "Like Eleanor."

Just ahead of them, walking by herself, was the homecoming queen, Eleanor DeRoyal. Eleanor was a senior, like both Greg and David. Apart from being the homecoming queen, Eleanor was the head cheerleader and a top honors student.

Eleanor was gorgeous and carried herself in a way that showed she knew it. She had raven black hair accenting a dynamite figure, the curves that should have belonged to a woman of 30 years rather than girl of 18. A cloud of the most popular boys in school seemed to always follow her around. She never gave guys like Greg or David the time of day.

"Eleanor's all woman," Greg said. "She must have the best breasts on the entire West Coast."

David punched him on the arm. "God, you're such a caveman. Eleanor isn't just a pair of breasts, you dumbass."

"Eleanor's body is a work of art, like the Venus de Milo or some shit. No, she's like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon," Greg said, leering at her.

"You should go up and talk to her," David said.

"Nah, I'm good," Greg said. "I'd prefer to just stare at her ass."

"Idiot," David said, laughing.

"And proud of it," Greg said, guffawing. "Maybe I will go see if Eleanor could use some stud muffin company."

Greg jogged ahead of Greg to chase the beautiful teen. David watched him tap her on the shoulder and then strike up a conversation.

For the next few minutes, David walked by himself. Although Greg could act like a Neanderthal, he was very fun to hang out with.

David was so distracted that he failed to see Ms. Thompson tying her shoes in the middle of the path. He tripped over her and fell sprawling to the ground.

"Oh my god! Are you okay!" Ms. Thompson said. As she bent over him, her glasses slipped down her nose.

"I think so," David groaned, dusting himself off. He stood up and looked down. He had skinned his knee and scraped his hands.

"You're bleeding!" she squeaked.

"No big deal," David said. He was more than a little embarrassed. "Sorry about my clumsiness. Are you okay?"

"No, no, this is all my fault. I'm so sorry," she said.

David grinned, "No problem, Ms. Thompson."

Nobody else had seemed to notice his fall, and the rest of the class had continued their hike and were now out of sight. David dusted himself off again and the two of them began to walk together.

"Can you explain to me what all you high schoolers are all doing on your phones nowadays?" Ms. Thompson said. "People seem to be looking at their phones all day everywhere they go."

David thought for a moment. "The same things that adults are doing. Surfing the web, e-mail, that kind of stuff."

"Really? Why do people need to fiddle with the phones during class?" Ms. Thompson asked.

"Well, a lot of people like to chat with each other," said David.

"Chat? With their phones?"

"Yeah. You can send each other short messages that go straight from one phone to the next. You've heard of texting, right?"

"Oh, texting! I use AOL Instant Messenger," Ms. Thompson said.

"Did people use AOL with their typewriters?" David asked.

"No, of course not. How would Instant Messenger work with a typewriter?" Ms. Thompson said. She looked over at David, who was grinning broadly at her.

"Are you making fun of me?" she said in mock outrage, punching him lightly on the arm.

David felt a tiny thrill at this flirtatious gesture. "Careful, or I'll have to report you to the school board," he said. "For abusing a student."

"I think the students at this school could use a little more abuse," Ms. Thompson said jokingly. "They are far too comfortable with the faculty."

David laughed out loud. It felt great to be spending one-on-one time with his cute teacher.

The two of them had fallen behind the rest of the group. A few drops began to come down from the menacing gray clouds overhead.

"So all that phone stuff is chat?" Ms. Thompson asked curiously.

"Different people use different chat programs. Most of my friends are on WhatsApp. But the hot new thing is Snapchat."

"I've never heard of that one. What is Snapchat?"

"It's an app where what you send doesn't stick. It disappears in like ten seconds after you send it."

"Disappears? Doesn't that make it harder to read?" Her brow wrinkled in confusion.

"It is harder to read," David laughed. "But that's the point."

"How could it be good to have chats that disappear?" Ms. Thompson said.

"Well... sometimes people want to send things that they don't want to stick around forever."

"What, like secrets?" Ms. Thompson said, her eyes wide.

"Secrets are one possibility," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"You look like you want to say something. Go on. What else do people like to send?" Ms. Thompson asked.

"Are you sure you want to know? This isn't really an appropriate conversation for a teacher and a student to be having," David said conspiratorially.

Ms. Thompson looked around. They had fallen behind the rest of the class and she didn't think anybody could hear them.

"C'mon, David, you can tell me," she said softly, leaning in conspiratorially. "Just pretend I'm one of the girls."

This was the closest David had ever seen his teacher's face. For the first time, he noticed that she had freckles on her cheeks and nose. She's very cute, he thought.

"Sometimes people like to send pictures of themselves that they don't want other people to keep," he continued carefully.

"Pictures they don't want other people to see?" she asked.

David nodded slowly, choosing his words slowly.

"An embarrassing picture," he prompted. "Maybe one that a girlfriend would want to send a boyfriend?"

Slowly, the answer dawned on her.

"Wait.... Really? In high school? Girls send pictures of... of themselves. In high school?" she stammered.

They walked for a minute while she digested the fact that an eighteen-year-old girl would send sexy pictures of herself.

"They're called 'sexties,'" David said. "Like 'selfies' but with 'sex.'"

"Yes, I got it, thanks," she said. "Isn't that illegal?" Her eyes were open wide.

David shrugged. He was surprised at the naivety of his teacher.

"And do boys ever send girls pictures of themselves?" she asked.

"Well. Yes. It has been known to happen."

"No! Pictures of their private parts?" Ms. Thompson was genuinely shocked at this. "Have you ever done this, David?"

David paused. This was getting into sensitive territory.

A sudden burst of thunder cut off his reply. Suddenly, the skies opened up, and it began to rain steadily. David wiped the water out of his eyes, and said, "C'mon, we should try to find the others."

They hustled to catch up, but the rest of the group had disappeared. The rocks had become slick, and small rivulets of water were flowing over our path. The walk was slow and treacherous.

Suddenly, David became worried and said, "Are we still on the trail?"

Ms. Thompson looked down, "I'm not sure. I was following you."

David looked around. "We haven't seen the group in maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, right?"

Ms. Thompson said, "Maybe more."

Now they were both worried. As if to emphasize their plight, another peal of lightning flashed overhead, and the rain began to fall even more intensely. It was pouring in sheets now, and they were both thoroughly soaked. The rain was ice cold, and they both felt frozen.

"We have to find shelter," David said.

Ms. Thompson nodded, wiping the water back from her hair.

David looked around desperately. "A cave!" he said, pointing to a dark round circle on the mountain next to us. She nodded, and clamped her hand on his back.

"Lead the way!" she shouted over the deafening downpour.

David and Ms. Thompson picked their way through the storm to the mouth of the cave. It was about a hundred yards off of the trail.

They finally arrived. The cave was dark and damp, but at least they weren't getting rained on.

"Wow," Ms. Thompson said. "Look at all that water!"

"I don't have to," David said, "I can feel it in my socks."

They looked around. The cave was made of a dark grey stone. There were patches of bright green fungus growing almost fluorescently on the mouth of the cave. It was difficult to say how far the cave went, but the blackness seemed to stretch on and on.

The cave was freezing cold. Its dark walls were slick with water from outside, and there seemed to be a current of wind passing through to freeze their bones. David hopped in place, rubbing his arms and trying to stay warm.

Ms. Thompson sneezed.

"Are you okay, Ms. Thompson?" David looked over.

"I'm fine," she lied. She was freezing, her clothes drenched from the icy rain outside. She brushed off some of the excess water from her windbreaker and sweats, but her clothes were soaked through.

David looked at her worriedly. They watched the icy rain pour down outside. It collected in little frozen pools that seemed to suck heat out of the cave.

After a minute or two, Ms. Thompson felt a series of shivers pass through her body.

David looked at her and said worriedly, "Ms. Thompson, are you okay? It's freezing in here."

"I'm not cold," she lied. She pursed her lips tightly together and shook her head.

David wanted to press the point, but held his tongue.

Finally, they sat next to each other at the cave mouth. Their breath puffed out in big steaming clouds. David felt frozen stiff, and he rubbed his arms desperately to try to stay warm.

Finally, he said, "Maybe we should huddle to stay warm."

Carol Thompson looked into David's eyes, and nodded. She moved in closer to him, and he put his arm around his teacher.

David didn't know it, but his teacher was beginning to feel more and more confused about her feelings for David.

David was her favorite type of student: serious and hardworking, but without being stuck up. From the first class, he had asked intelligent questions that showed he was digesting the material and learning in a way that other students were not.

She also thought he was very cute. He dressed neatly and didn't seem to care what others thought about him. He was always confident and collected, and spoke honestly and carefully.

He had a kind of seriousness that made her think he could pass for a much older man. If Carol didn't know for a fact that he was an eighteen-year-old high school senior, she would have guessed that he was in his twenties. She was only twenty-two herself.

And his hair was always tousled, unkempt in a way that made Ms. Thompson want to reach out and fix it for him. She longed to see if his lips were as soft as they looked.

Not that she would ever lay a hand on him, though. That was strictly forbidden. Each teacher had been given careful training from the first day on job on the kinds of contact that were appropriate and inappropriate with their students.

Student-teacher relationships with any degree of romance were strictly forbidden. The principal had warned them that there would be no lenience to any proven accusations of sexual misconduct with students. Any teacher caught with a romantic relationship with a student would be fired and then turned over to the police for prosecution.

So Ms. Thompson had kept firm boundaries between herself and her students. She was very careful to avoid the appearance of any impropriety and tried very hard to maintain her image as a teacher in front of them.

A field trip like this made it hard to maintain that image. The group of hikers, students and teachers alike, were sweaty from the hours of hard walking. Everyone was dressed in clothes intended for a long trail. Parts of the path were narrow, and Ms. Thompson had noticed keenly when she had nudged into David and felt his manly body brush against her.

And now, with his arm around her, it was impossible to think of him as just a student. He was bigger and taller than she was, and he was so warm. His presence felt incredibly masculine.

To David's surprise, Ms. Thompson put her head on his shoulder. He looked over at her. Her hair smelled faintly of coconuts.

"Do you feel better?" David asked quietly.

"Much better," Ms. Thompson replied.

"Tell me about your own high school. You went to Thompson High too right?" David asked.

"Yeah, I did go to Thompson," she said drowsily. "But it sucked."

"What?" he said. "Why?"

"No reason," she said softly. She felt like falling asleep in his arms.

"You're very cute, Ms. Thompson," David said firmly. Without thinking, he took her hand in his.

Her eyes popped open. She stared at his hand, now surrounding her smaller one. His hand seemed to engulf hers.

She wanted to tell him that holding her hand was inappropriate, that he should definitely not be calling her "cute," but she looked up at him.

David looked back steadily into her eyes.

"Thank you, David," she said.

Carol Thompson felt a suddenly desire to kiss him. David, her student. He was just a boy, right? Or was he a man, with his lean body and steady voice. The moment felt right. She felt so confused.

She closed her eyes...

David saw her eyes close. He saw her face turn towards him, so close that he could see all the freckles on her nose and cheeks. Her mouth opened slightly. Wisps of steam from her breath. She was his teacher, an older woman. Did she really want to kiss him? Kissing his teacher was the most taboo of taboos, but David couldn't deny this feeling. Maybe he had a sliver of a chance...

There was a crack of thunder outside. Startled, Ms. Thompson opened her eyes. She sensed his hesitation and turned away. She knew he hadn't done anything wrong, but she felt... rejected?

She stood up, quickly loosing her windbreaker and tossing it off over her head. The wet fabric sprayed David with little droplets.

He could now see her t-shirt, which clung damply to her body. For the first time, David saw his teacher's body in clothing that was more revealing than her typical teacher outfits.

To his dismay, he saw that Ms. Thompson was flat as a board, just as Greg had said. Her breasts were just two bumps underneath her wet, clinging shirt. They didn't lift the material by more than a centimeter or two. She wasn't wearing a bra. She doesn't need one, David thought with a tinge of disappointment.

He quickly tried to hide his reaction.

"See? Don't you feel better?" David said quickly.

Carol Thompson was a perceptive person, trained by years of rejection. She did notice, just for an instant, the look of disappointment on David's face. Disappointment at her body. She felt crushed.

No matter how mature David looks, he is still male, she thought. And men have never liked me.

She sat down again, this time farther away from him.

They waited in quiet after that, watching the rain continue to pound the forest outside. There was another flash of lightning.

Both of them yelped in terror. A figure appeared in the mouth of the cave.

David's heart pounding, he squinted to see who it was. It was Greg.