Marianne bounced up to the teacher's desk, all blonde ponytails and cheerleader smile. "Have a great summer, Miss Feloni," she gushed, squeezing enormous tits under a tight white blouse. "I'm really going to miss you. You're my favorite!"
Therese smiled faintly as Marianne and the other girls filed out of the room. Finally, summer had arrived. The end of her first year at Hyacinth Academy for Young Ladies. As much as Therese hated to admit it, she was ready for a long, relaxing summer off. Only a few more days of grading and sorting records remained, and those promised to go fairly smoothly.
Except for her contract. She had waited all spring for the headmistress to call her in for a review, but so far it hadn't happened. And without a contract, Therese had no guarantee of a job for next year. Without a job in the fall, there was no way she could afford to travel to Europe this summer as she had planned. What was worse, it meant returning to teaching public school in Boston, something she dreaded worse than death. She'd had three years of public school teaching after college, and getting the job at Hyacinth had been a blessing. Free room and board on top of a great salary made working here something to hold on to.
But employment at the liberal girl's school had its down side, too. The first year, she'd heard, was the hardest. Not unlike most schools, Hyacinth had its cliques. There was the older faculty who had been there since its opening in the 1970s; this elite circle of the headmistress and a few others kept watchful eyes on the younger, newer faculty members. Therese was aware of another circle, the favored few who were allowed to socialize with the inner circle. It was to this group that the best sleeping quarters, benefits and assignments went, and Therese longed for those kinds of luxuries.
Leaving her classroom for perhaps the last time, Therese reluctantly walked down the staircase to the foyer and outside to the expansive courtyard. The four buildings flanking the tree-lined courtyard resembled those of any old New England campus, but they were hardly forty years old and in prime condition. Everything at Hyacinth was top-notch, from the air conditioned rooms to the gourmet coffees served in the faculty lounge. Therese slowly crossed the courtyard, now full of students and parents as the girls prepared to leave for the summer. They were good girls for the most part; teaching was a dream here. No drugs, no gang fights in the hall. She sighed and continued on to her own building, the one set aside for single faculty members. The first floor belonged to the men, the second through fourth to the women. It never ceased to amaze Therese that the school employed six unmarried male faculty members. But that was the kind of trust the parents had in the school with a stellar reputation.
Her own bedroom was on the fourth floor; one of the setbacks of being a newbie. She immediately logged on to the school website, hoping to find an email from the headmistress. But the only one there was from Allison Brown, a fellow faculty member. For weeks now Allison had been suggesting they meet to discuss, in Allison's words, "something you need to know about the faculty play." When pressed, Allison was reluctant to talk about it.
The end-of-the-year faculty play wasn't exactly a secret. Started decades ago as a way of letting off steam, the faculty play had a reputation for being raunchy, ribald, and over the top. A few faculty members had even resigned over it on moral grounds. In Therese's mind, she couldn't imagine anything being bad enough to quit her job over. As long as it wasn't illegal, who was she, or anyone else, to judge?
Logging off the computer, Therese slowly unbuttoned her starched white blouse and ran a hand under the elastic of her 34B bra. Her nipples felt tender; she'd pinched them mercilessly as she'd masturbated the night before. Slipping off her skirt, she sighed and tossed it at the end of her bed. Her slender legs were toned and shapely, evidence that she had grown up taking ballet lessons. With an air of resignation, she lay down on the bed. At twenty-five she was starting to feel as though life were passing her by. Rolling onto her side, she curled into a fetal position and closed her eyes. Her love life was nonexistent. She'd dated in college and even had a few lovers, but no one had been special enough to take seriously. Since then, the only men she'd met in education were either gay or married. But there were plenty of women, and many of them were more than just a little interested in introducing her to life on the other side of the jungle. Therese had never crossed that line; she liked men and everything about them...the sound of their deep voices, the smell of their testosterone-filled bodies, and, most of all, the meat between their legs. One the other hand, she was horny as hell. Her fantasies during masturbation were becoming increasingly centered on lesbian action. She still wanted a thick cock to suck on but, oh, how she also longed to see a pair of soft lips moving over her clit.
A soft rap on her door brought Therese out of her fantasy. She pulled on a light robe and cracked the door just enough to see Allison Brown on the other side.
"Oh, hey," Allison said, as though she was surprised Therese was there. "I...I thought maybe you were meeting with Dr. Sloane."
Dr. Hillary Sloane was the school's headmistress. "Why would you think that?" Therese asked, stepping aside to let Allison in.
"Because she's reviewing today," Allison said as Therese shut the door.
Therese sat down on the bed with a thud. "Well, I guess that means I'm not getting renewed," she said fatalistically.
Allison sat down in the chair across from her. A little older than Therese, Allison was finishing her second year of teaching at Hyacinth. She possessed the glowing, athletic, blonde Anglo-Saxon beauty that Therese could only dream of. Small and dark, of Italian ancestry, Therese felt all the cards stacked against her. Who was she kidding? She just didn't fit the white-bread Hyacinth mold.
Allison studied her carefully. "Well, not necessarily."
Therese glanced up. "What do you mean?"
"How badly do you want to stay here?" Allison asked.
"Um, as badly as one can," Therese answered, thinking it to be a hypothetical question.
Allison leaned towards her as though to share a secret. "Then you need to go see Dr. Peterson."
"The theatre teacher? Why?"
"Because he's casting the faculty play."
"What difference will that make?'
Allison stared at her thoughtfully. Then, in a hushed tone, she continued, "Therese, what I'm about to tell you is a secret. The faculty play is more than just a raunchy little play. They do things. I mean, really do it. And anything goes. Dr. Sloane and Dr. Peterson are in charge. Some of the older faculty get into it too. Then there's a bunch of younger members who participate. Sometimes if you're cast, you get nothing more than a few lines. But sometimes you have a part where you actually get down and dirty."
"And they do all this on the stage, in front of the other faculty members?"
"It's been going on for forty years and no one has stopped it. People have quit over it. A few have even gone to the newspapers. But really, nobody gives a shit what a bunch of teachers do at the end of the year for fun. The real question is, are you game for that kind of action?"
"Did you?" Therese asked, glancing up and down Allison's long, slender frame.
