The words that sent me over the edge in the end were "No condoms, Phil. I want to feel you flood me." This from the sweet lips of a young married teacher I had in front of me, stripped, tied up and blindfolded on her marital bed with at least an hour before hubby got home...
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I'm Phil. Outdoors guy. Literally. That's how my social media profile describes me, and I make a reasonable living from organising corporate training in the hills and mountains - outdoor retreats and team building weekends, that sort of thing. I hadn't done any schools before I got the e-mail from Lisa, but she'd obviously done her research because what she had in mind was an excellent idea and it ended up opening an entirely new market for me so I gained in the process. But that isn't why I'm writing this story.
I read Lisa's e-mail with interest. I can normally categorise potential jobs right from the start and know pretty well immediately exactly what each one will entail, but this one was a bit different and I found myself thinking through a number of ways it could work and be pitched. The e-mail came to me via my professional pages and it was from a school address. The writer was a Mrs. Lisa MacBeth, a second grade teacher in a town about twelve miles away. I'd never actually been there despite growing up in the area. I knew the school though. There had been a fire there about five years before. No one had been hurt but the resulting review of health and safety procedures had affected my business quite a lot. I had innumerable forms to fill in before I could accept jobs now. I'm risk aware, and nothing in the new rules demanded any more of me than I would have done anyway - apart from the form filling, but I could immediately see that working with schoolchildren would require an order of magnitude above the normal safety checks I was used to. For that reason I hadn't previously considered that source of business.
Lisa's message was well thought out and made me think again. She had planned a unit of study for her kids that required them to learn some of the same outdoor skills I regularly did with executives. Ropes, fire-lighting, tracking, even building a bridge across a stream. The way she described it all I could see how eight-year-old children might be able to gain from being on one of my courses - a suitably reworked one, naturally, but authentic outdoor skills nonetheless.
I also admit that when I clicked on the school's website and saw what Lisa MacBeth looked like I felt a stirring of interest. Teachers had no right to be that good looking! She was simply stunning. Blonde hair falling over her shoulders, bright blue eyes and a figure that belonged on a catwalk, rather than in a classroom. I must admit I made up my mind to accept her offer to meet and discuss the idea pretty much solely on the basis of that photo.
Apart from the fact I had to keep doing things to hide what would otherwise have been a painfully obvious erection, the meeting went well. We met in a coffee shop and she described her plan for a series of three or four lessons taking place in a wooded area to the south of the school. There would be thirty-four children and four adults plus myself. She would take care of all the permission slips and I would design a risk assessment form to submit to the school administrators two weeks before the lesson. The children would watch while I demonstrated fire-making, but apart from that they would take a full leading role in all the activities. It looked like it would be a lot of fun.
As it turned out the first lesson wasn't great, but that was because of the weather – and the lack of common sense of one of the students' parents. I'd described the clothing I recommended the students wear but I'd overlooked the need to stress that the accompanying parents also needed to wear sensible clothes. Mrs. Ross, one of the three mums accompanying Lisa on the lesson, was dressed more for a nightclub than an afternoon in the woods! It wasn't raining very hard but what rain there was, combined with the cold wind from the north, was enough to make most of us glad of our fleeces, boots and waterproof trousers. Jimmy Choo shoes and a ruby-coloured silk blouse were never going to be much protection against the biting Scottish wind - and as we only had the minimum numbers of accompanying adults according to the plan I'd set up, we had to cut short the lesson when it became obvious Mrs. Ross was turning blue with cold!
Lisa was apologetic afterwards but she need not have been. I'd had a great time getting to know her kids in the hour or so we'd been together. Lisa's smile was also nice to be reminded of. When she said "I hope you'll give me a second chance" it was all I could do to stop myself saying "Anytime your husband's not around!"
The second lesson was much better. The skies were blue and although there was a biting cold in the air, that made it all the more logical to cover fire-lighting with the kids. I lit a fire from a flint and demonstrated how we look for kindling wood and other combustibles when we're out in the open. I had the kids separate and look for matchsticks, fingers and wrists. That's how we describe sticks in terms of their diameter and suitability for different stages of a fire. They loved it, and Lisa let a couple of the more sensible students try their hand with the flint. It went well.
We finished the lesson by having a competition to see who could get their fire up to the point where it could burn through a string tied two feet above the woodpile. The students were hopeless at tying the string so I said to Lisa I'd teach them knots next time out.
"This is such fun!" she said, touching my arm and flashing me that huge smile of hers.
"You're quite a flirt, Mrs. MacBeth," I thought. But I kept that thought unspoken.
The ropes lesson was the third one. The weather had warmed up and we went into a new area of the forest. I taught the kids two knots – reef knot and clove hitch. The split into pairs and were told to find sticks to tie together using those knots that made something useful. Almost all of them would make a sledge for dragging firewood - or perhaps a snowshoe. These were items I'd demonstrated in the classroom during our first meeting. One bright spark, a little boy called Eric, however, wanted to tie Lisa to a tree. His reasoning was that if he was in the wild and hunting animals, he wouldn't want to kill them for food, but he would want to sketch them. He would, therefore, need to find a way to keep them still while he did that and he wanted his teacher to stand in for the deer or badger that he fondly imagined he could catch. Cute. And quite clever. I asked Lisa if she'd mind if I demonstrated and she said it was fine.
So that was the first time I got to tie up Lisa. Just her hands to two branches of a hazel tree, and in full view of Eric and a few of his friends who quickly wandered over to watch. Lisa was a good sport. She let me tie her hands above her head and then listened while I explained that if you ever needed to tie an animal you had to be careful and gentle. Most of them then wanted to share stories about their pets or animals from their parents' smallholdings but I cut them short by saying I didn't think Mrs. MacBeth enjoyed being tied up and we needed to untie her.
"You don't know me that well, Mr. Turner," I thought I heard her say. I turned to her in surprise but from the innocent look on her face it was as if she hadn't said a word. Did I imagine it?
The last lesson was a week later and we did a few reviews of what we'd learned in the previous weeks. Lisa walked me out to my car at the end of the school day.
"I hope you had fun, Phil" she said. "I certainly did".
"Yes," I replied. "I did too. The kids are great, and I think you deserve a lot of credit for thinking this through so well. Do let me know if you ever want to repeat it."
I turned to get in my car but she put a hand on my arm.
"Well, I was hoping you could help me with one aspect, now you come to mention it." She said. "I'm hopeless with those knots. I know I couldn't teach the kids to tie those properly. Would you mind showing me again sometime?"
Was there something in that voice? Her face, sexy and beautiful though it undoubtedly was, showed no sign of anything. She was to all intents and purposes simply asking me for help tying knots.
"Of course!" I replied. "Just say when."
"Tomorrow? About 8 PM?" she said immediately. "I'm at 88 Jasmine Lane. You can park round the back in Longacre Drive and come in the side entrance."
"Sure." I said. "I'm free then. Shall I bring the ropes?"
"Oh, I'm sure I have enough." She said. Then with a squeeze of my arm she walked back in.
The next evening I parked in Longacre Drive. There was plenty of street parking, which wasn't the case in Jasmine Lane, but I couldn't help noting that it was also much less conspicuous here. A car parked in Jasmine Lane outside number 88 would have been immediately noticeable. Here, I blended in with the cars parked for the little parade of shops. An alleyway led through a gap in the houses to Jasmine Lane, and number 88 was at the end of the terrace and had a side gate. I let myself in. It was getting dark at this time of the year and the only light came from two candles in the window of Lisa's house. I tapped lightly on the glass of the back door and Lisa's shadow appeared. She put her hand up to the glass to see who it was and slid the bolt back. I stepped in. We were in the kitchen.
The first thing I noticed was she had let her hair down. It was the first time I'd seen her without a woolly hat – except in the webpage picture. Her hair was definitely one of her best features. She wore a silk negligee and was holding two tumblers of single malt whisky. Her eyes shone in the candlelight. Her feet were bare. The only other thing she was wearing was her wedding ring.
"Whisky?" she said, offering me one of the tumblers. I took it and sipped it. Jura. An excellent choice. Smokey and with a lingering afterburn.
"Thanks," I said. "Your husband's?"
I had been referring to the whisky but she misheard me. "Oh, don't worry about him." She said. "He's in Dundee today. Won't be back for hours. Come and sit down".
She led me though to the lounge where a decent fire was bringing in the hearth. I sat on the shag pile rug in front of it and she joined me. I looked her over. No bra. Silk negligee riding halfway up her thighs. Husband away. She was definitely sending me unmistakeable signs. We sipped our whiskies. My cock was stiffening and I was trying not to show it. She was unbelievably sexy and I wanted to fuck her there and then, but we were pretending nothing more was happening than my coming to show her how to tie a few knots. In some way that made it all the more tense. But it was a tension I was loving.
