"I have to correct these papers," I explained to the tall slender man who was standing next to me while I shuffled things around on my desk. "Give me ten minutes."
"You know where I'll be Miss Provost," Ray said while walking behind me, pausing to squeeze my shoulders
My eyes went to the long ebony fingers which stood out starkly against my canary yellow blazer, and my whole body shuddered as he whispered "Don't keep me waiting. You know you want it," before leaving the room.
"You've done it this time Marie," I said to myself, cursing my careless stupidity which led to this situation I found myself in.
It was yesterday when Ray - and I didn't even know the man's last name because he was always just Ray the Janitor to everybody in the school - had come into my classroom after school was dismissed. I assumed that he was going to clean the room a little early, since that task usually happened after I was gone for the day, but that wasn't it.
"Evening Miss Provost," Ray said, his voice lyrical and possessing what seemed to my untrained ear a Caribbean tone.
"Good evening Ray. I'll be out of your way in just a minute," I told him, not bothering to tell him that I was Mrs. Provost at least for the present.
"No Miss Provost, you ain't in my way," Ray drawled as he proceeded to sit on one of the desks in front of me. "I don't start until 5. I came to talk."
"Oh," I said, not quite sure what he would want to talk to me about because he didn't have any kids in my class or anywhere else in the school as far as I knew and besides, he couldn't be much older than 21 or so.
"Happened to see these papers in the waste basket down in the teachers lounge," Ray said, and I nearly fainted when I saw what they were, the colorful banner advertisements on the top of each page standing out. "Not a good idea to just toss them in the basket like that. Should have ripped them up - unless you wanted me to find them."
"I - I didn't," I stuttered. "I didn't put them in there."
It was true. I didn't. My best friend in the whole world must have. A friend I wanted to strangle right about now because now there was another person besides Cassie that knew about my hobby. Ray.
"Interesting stuff Miss Provost," he said while leafing through a few pages. "Is this what call biographical. Autobiographrical?"
"No. Just fantasy. May I have them back?"
"Sure," Ray said as he reached over and handed them to me, and a wave of relief came over me as I went over and put the pages through the little shredder.
"Thank you," I said. "I'm going to kill the person responsible for those being in there.
"Like I said. Interesting stuff. That story - man that was hot. I read it during my meal break and it got me so excited I had to go to the can and jerk off."
"I'm sure I don't want to hear that. Despite what it seems like, I'm nothing like you might think," I assured Ray.
"Got me so hot," Ray continued like I hadn't said anything at all. "When I got home I went on line and looked up that Literotica website and saw you had a shitload of stories there. Damn! Kept me up all night. Man, you got a thing for black cock don't you?"
"No, nothing like that. These are just made-up stories."
"The Blaine - man that motherfucker must have fucked you silly," Ray chuckled, his pearly white dazzlingly bright.
"I've never done anything of the sort. I never met the man and I've never dated any black men. I'm married," I said which was all technically true. "It's all made up."
"That one story when your went out with the girls and you took that brother out to the car to do him. What's up with that?"
"That was the one time I ever did anything close to cheating, and I didn't really do anything that night either. If you read it you would know that my husband and I were split up at the time and he had been cheating on me. That night in the car - nothing really happened."
"But you wish it did," Ray said, and I told him that wasn't true but he disagreed. "Bullshit. Why else would you be fantasizing about black men all the time. After all these years too! All them stories - hardly any of them got white guys in it. You want it. Shit, lots of white women want it."
"You're wrong but you don't want to believe me."
"All the other teachers know about you? Your writing career?"
"No. Just one."
"Good money in writing this porn?"
"No money. I just did it - I don't know why. Bored maybe."
"I can understand that. You been married probably since you was my age. Stuck in a rut. Empty nest and an imagination that - well let's just say you don't lack that."
"I'm nothing like that at all."
"Figured you should get some money for that stuff you wrote. I liked it. Even wonder how many guys have jerked off while reading your shit?"
"Is that what this is about? Money? Are you going to extort money from me?"
"No ma'am. That's not a nice thing to say, especially since I could have done a lot different things with that story than give it back to you."
"I'm sorry."
"In fact I want to help your career," Ray declared. "Make the world aware of how good a writer you are."
"I haven't written anything in quite a while," I told him.
"Why? Writer's block?"
"No," I said, not willing to tell him about my husband finding out about my hobby and putting a strain on our relationship, although finding out that he had been fucking a silicone stripper for the last year and pissing away a good deal of our retirement savings by stuffing it into her G-string did the real damage. "I've been a bit depressed lately."
"Well, I know how that can be," Ray told me. "I got a cure for that."