Classes are never as interesting as in the catalog, and continuing education units are never made to sound interesting. As usual, all the students sized each other up the first class and settled into our seats for the remainder of the summer session. I found myself with a second year biology teacher to my right, a middle-aged business and economics teacher to my left, and behind me a woman almost exactly my age, who I found out was an assistant principal at a middle school. I am in my third year teaching high school social studies in a semi-rural school. For the first session we paid attention, we are professionals, afterall. We also decided that we needed a drink afterwards.
Sam is the young biology teacher. He announced he is saving all his money for a June wedding next year. That brought grumbles from Mike, who announced that anyone getting married needed his head examined, he failed to mention if that also went for women. Connie and I looked at each other and laughed. She stated quite unequivocally, that after being semi-engaged to be engaged to a biology teacher in the high school she taught at for many years, she too was giving up on the marriage game.
That left me. I raised my glass of Chardonnay and congratulated Sam, commiserated with Connie, and told Mike he was a cynic, though with a smile on my face. I also stated, “Marriage is definitely out of the question for me. And in a much lower voice added, “In this state anyway.” Mike snorted. Sam looked at me with the naivety of youth, and Connie looked directly into my eyes to see if there was a hidden grin.
Surprisingly, it was Mike who suggested we exchange phone numbers as the course was more demanding than suggested.
“As we all seemed to be compatible. ‘Except for Junior,’ experiencewise, we may find it helpful to be able to stay in contact during the intervening week.”
Sam rose to leave first, anxious, no doubt to spend some time with his fiancee. Connie was next, I had to rise to let her pass from the booth, and felt just the barest squeeze of my elbow as she moved against me. Mike and I sat there and slugged down a couple of more drinks. Well, I sipped my wine, he belted down scotch.
During our conversation, I told him how I had had a successful career in sales, but found it unfulfilling, and having saved and invested fairly wisely, had decided to teach. I have a nice condo overlooking Lake Michigan, drive a decent car, etc, etc, blah, blah. Mike’s eyes were much clearer than you would have expected with all the single malt scotch he had consumed in the 2 hours our little party had been in session. He had avoided any reference to his background, except he was glad for the opportunity to refresh outside of his school with professionals. That did surprise me. I studied him, and came to the conclusion he was ‘on stage’ , as it were, during the conversation about marriage. I primed him with another drink and he confessed, “Very happily married for 20 years to a delightful woman.
And, yes, I did understand what you said, as did Connie.
And, no, no ulterior motives.
Dee, I find you very easy to talk with is all, as I am sure would Connie,” the last comment was with a wink.
“You old fraud! I would hate to take a course with you, I laughed, “Or play poker.”
We left together and he walked me to my car, we had eaten and the drinks were typical of mass watering holes, so I had no trouble navigating home.
The next three days flew past, there are a thousand things to do in summer, sunbathing being a high priority for me. I was getting my things together to go to the private beach my building has on the lakefront when the phone rang. It was Connie, and she wanted to discuss something from the class. I told her my plans for the day and asked if she would like to come over for some sun and gab.
In an authoritative voice, she told me, “We administrators don’t have the luxury of lollygagging about all summer, you know. How about dinner?” Her voice had changed to a light hearted lilt before the last three words.
“I’m a dynamite cook, if I do say so myself. How about you come over about seven-ish?” I said.
Then I gave her my address, she knew the general area. “If you come over at 5:00 I can tell you how to get past Cerberus at the entrance to the beach and you can still catch some cooling down time in the water.
She laughed at the reference to the guardian of Hades and asked how?
“Just wear a two piece swimsuit, a wrap, sunglasses and a smile. Works for me every time.
“You should also give him your name, I will leave it at the desk.”
“It’s a date," Connie responded.
I went down to the beach for two hours, and then back to my apartment to prepare cold salads and a pitcher of Sangria.
My original swimsuit was for sunbathing, strapless and thin. As I removed it in my bedroom I looked at myself in the full length mirror. Some day, soon, I am going to that “Sun Rey” place and get my tan evened out. The contrast of my very fair skin where the bra and bottom covered my boobs and middle and the even tan of the exposed skin drew me to the erogenous zones. My nipples crinkled when I thought that Connie was coming over. And there was a tiny trickle I felt from my labia. The auburn trimmed patch covering my pubic area next drew my fingers. I parted my legs, and standing before the mirror, I slid a finger slowly along my by now swollen lips. Running my middle finger down and back up, the tip of my finger rolled around my now exposed clitoris. I tapped there, and circled the pink nub. A shiver and moan ran through my body as I drew my finger down and curled it upward when the entrance to my vagina sucked at it. Faster and deeper. Over and over. Nipping my finger, I bit my lower lip as a low grade orgasm shook me.
There. If nothing came of it, at least I would not be overly tense when Connie arrived.
I looked at the clock and realized it was 4:55 already. Tossing on my swim suit, I ran for the elevator and saw Connie just as she was standing at the desk.
“Miss Archer assured me she would leave my name for entrance. Please look for a note. Brooks, Constance Brooks, maybe Connie.”
“Back, Walter, back, I say. Stop ogling my guest.”
The 20-something college kid looked at me and said, "I was just seeing if she was properly attired as our bylaws require, Miss Archer.”
Connie was very properly attired in a sturdy two piece yellow swimsuit with a wrap around her waist. She also carried a rather large wicker bag. Probably stuffed with papers and books. I took it from her and asked if there was anything she needed from it. If not, Walter could be trusted to guard it with all three heads. She reached into it and removed a towel and lotion and waited at the door to the beach. I told the kid to be careful, he did not want on my bad list come Christmas. He smiled and laughed, “Sure thing Miss Archer.”
I opened the door for Connie, and she commented, “An unusual perfume, Dee. Perhaps I can borrow it sometime.” She was smiling broadly now, and I shooed her out onto the hot sand.
We swam for about an hour, frolicing like little girls. Splashing each other, sitting and letting the tiny lake waves lap our legs. As her suit became wet I noticed more and more her breasts, and the roundness of her butt. Sitting in the water, our backs to the lowered sun, she asked rather banal questions about the reading for class, nothing really beyond her, she had managed her way through a Masters of Education afterall.
