Ive Always Been A Nurturer

Loyal readers of mine will notice a few familiar names in here. Enjoy!

* * *

"Goddammit!" I shrieked at my rearview mirror as the light ahead of me changed to red. The fucking stoplights had been my nemesis this evening, and now? There was a cop behind me. I'd have blazed right through, otherwise; as it was, I could see him giving me a cynical look from behind as I had to stomp on the brakes when I realized I wouldn't be able to make the yellow.

I wasn't late, I told myself, not really. I'd been told the parents wouldn't get there until six, and it wasn't even 5:40 yet. But I knew myself, and I knew my sanity needed to give me at least ten minutes or so to settle myself down and be my usual grinning self before my very first Parents' Night as a full-time teacher at Bennett-

Sanderson High School. I'd wanted to get there by 5:45, but the red lights had seen to it that that would never happen.

"Fuck," I sighed; suddenly, the silence oppressed me. I'd turned off my stereo to focus on weaving in and out of the slower cars, but now I flicked it on and tried to relax to the dulcet strains of the Finnish death-metal Ben was trying to get me into.

Without success, so far. Though I did find myself drumming on the wheel as the red light stared at me, mocking my haste. On top of everything else, I needed to pee. I sighed. Thanksgiving was coming, and I didn't have much to be thankful for just then.

My tires chirped as I flew over the stop-line when the light turned green, my eyes on my mirror; the cop wavered, undecided, before sending his SUV down the other street, and at once I floored it down Madison St, behind the junior-high, until my worried eyes caught the glow in the distance: the lights in Memorial Stadium, where our girls' soccer team was holding its Senior Night.

I whipped my car right on Shaeffer, down past the apartment complex there, and then with a hard reckless smile of relief I was barreling into the high school parking lot, narrowly missing a pair of custodians out there putting up a sign telling the parents where to park. In... shit!...in just eleven minutes, I'd need to be behind my desk, composed and, hopefully, de-urinated.

I hunted for a space, on the prowl. Off to my left, the Alternate Field stretched into the twilight. Coach Jenner had his football team out there, running drills, a few of them already taking off their helmets; practice ended at six, apparently. Jenner stood there with his hands on his hips, yelling, tall in his trucker cap; Jenner was an okay guy, but he had a bad habit, when talking to younger teachers, of speaking directly to their breasts.

Especially if they were well-endowed. So, Coach Jenner spent a lot of time speaking to mine, whenever he had a chance.

I spotted a space not far from the staff door in the back, down from the loading dock, and only after I'd pulled my Honda into the space did I look at that same rearview mirror I'd been so obsessed with and realize, with an anchor dragging my heart down to my stomach, that my door fob wasn't hanging there. "Fuck!" I pounded the wheel in frustration, my brain reminding me that, sure enough, I'd left my fob on my desk, where it now waited happily for me.

Meaning I wouldn't be able to get into the staff door unless there was someone there, inside, waiting to let me in. My thoughts went to the loading dock, but no; half the time that door was locked, too.

I frowned at myself in that mirror, the clock ticking. Ben said I frowned well, my full lips making a curve that, he claimed, looked sexy; just then, I wasn't seeing it. I was seeing a super-pissed young woman, running late and getting later. I could get in from the front door, I knew, but that was clear on the other side of the campus. Fuck that.

Still frowning, I sprang out of my car and spun to grab my big leather teacher-bag from the backseat. The bag was a monstrosity that my mom had bought me when I'd gotten this gig, the permanent one at the end of the summer. That had been just a couple months ago, though I'd been in the building last year for a few months as a long-term sub.

I paused, glaring up at the staff door. I didn't see anyone through the glass; hell, the lights weren't even on back here. Everyone, tonight, would be using the front door. I glanced around; full parking lot. I was probably the last teacher to arrive.

It was dinner. Stopping for food had delayed me too much. I should've had my food delivered, clearly, but I'd had to rush home and feed Ben's cat. Fucking cat. I ground my teeth and clenched my bladder and cursed myself for dating a guy with a cat. I mean, I like cats. In this case, it was the owner I had a problem with; the cat was just an excuse. Things, I reflected, would be much better right now if my cat-guy had a better penis.

Had to be said. Ben was warm, kind, and generally awesome, but... well.

I stomped up the steps toward the staff door. Jenner's voice drifted from way behind, across the parking lot and on the field; he'd need to leave soon too. He had his PE classes to be ready for, if any parent even bothered coming in to see their kid's PE teacher. I pushed listlessly at the bar on the staff door, the thing not even budging: yep. Locked. I thought about pounding on the glass, even shouting, but I knew that would draw Coach's attention.

He'd probably come straight over to help out the fresh new young history teacher. While staring at my cleavage. He'd come eventually anyway and let me in, probably right at 5:57 or so, but I wanted into the building

now

.

I whirled, glancing all around me for an idea. The football team was breaking up over on the field. The lights on the stadium across the street showed soccer players, charging around. And my watch kept on ticking.

My wild eyes found sudden salvation at last: a door was ajar! Just a few feet away stood two doorways, to the girls' and the boys' locker rooms. One of them was wedged open just now, kept from closing by a flip-flop jammed into the door. I gasped, smiling, thinking about this: I could totally do it. I could charge on in there, sprint through the locker room, and break on through into the school's rear corridor, lickety-split, then make a pit stop at the downstairs bathroom before flying up the stairs.

I checked my watch. I'd be there, emptied, by 5:55.

I didn't hesitate. There was a 50/50 chance it was the boys' room I was shoving into, but it shouldn't matter either way: the boys were out at practice, the girls were in the stadium. The locker rooms should be deserted. So I barged in through the opened door, my nose instantly picking up dirty socks, wet grass, and sweat as I passed through the darkened vestibule and into the fluorescent blaze of the room proper, rows of blue lockers receding into the distance.

I'd never been in here, obviously, since as soon as I stepped into the light I realized it was the boys' room I was in. I paused a moment, listening, trying to figure out where I should go: the door had to be on the far side of the room, though, so with the entire football team getting finished up out on the Alternate Field, I knew I'd better hurry.

I moved, my heels clacking loudly, all the way down that first row of lockers, deeper into the stench. In the corner, my heart exulting, I expected to see a door leading out into the school... but found nothing.

Fuck.

Once more I whirled, my teacher-bag swinging. I had to get out of there. Frantically, I gathered my bearings and started off blindly to the opposite corner, my hopes rising again, and just as I figured I had to be almost to the end of the room?

It happened.

I rounded a corner, heels clicking to a loud halt that still wasn't louder than my gasp, for in front of me stood a naked boy. No, a naked

man:

this was Jared Meyer, the top running back, a senior who'd taken a year off with leukemia as a seventh grader. The whole town talked about what a nice kid he was: talented, mature, polite, with soft blue eyes that made almost everyone want to be his friend.

And now here he stood, nude, facing me with those blue eyes wide.

There passed a single, silent instant where we both realized,

real

quick, that me standing there staring at him was not a wonderful thing: on the contrary, it was suddenly

very

fucking complicated. "Oh my god!" I blurted, but of course I'm a normal woman: my eyes flickered down his body, and Jesus Christ was it ever a luscious sight. His muscles flowed smoothly behind his tanned flesh, every line of his six-pack, of his hipbones, up from his strong thighs, pointed inexorably toward where my eyes went anyway:

His dick.

It hung plump and perfect from an impudent little bush, the only hair I could see anywhere, his fleshy shaft dangling slightly to the right. But what drew my eyes the most, what pulled the soft sigh from my flustered mouth, was what I saw swinging underneath... for I am a total sucker for a nice, well-formed pair of balls. And his were delectable, hanging tight and juicy and low, quivering slightly as I watched.

I knew I was staring. And, suddenly, I realized he knew it too: it started as a twitch after about two or three seconds of the two of us standing there, and even as my eyes widened I could see that thick, glorious mushroom-head of his start to rise... I flung my hand over my mouth. "Jesus Christ, Jared, I'm so sorry!" I wailed. I looked away, but I had to force myself to do it. "Goddamn! Um, how do I get out of here?"

"Shit." He was looking down at himself in disbelief, Adam's apple bobbing as his cock firmed up before our eyes. "Oh my god!" He finally seemed to realize where he was, and who I was, and what was happening, and he dived to the side to try to find a towel or something. Which, of course, just showed me his tight, smoothly muscled ass, with those glorious balls peeking through... "I'm sorry, Ms Norland!"

"No, no, it's my fault!" I swallowed in a thick throat, desperate to get the fuck out. "Jared, honey, tell me where the door is. I'm just trying to get through to the school... I didn't mean to..."

"No, uh, it's over in that far corner. There's a door. It lets out into the PE offices." He was still naked, still bent over, still rummaging, and I knew I had to get

the fuck

away from there.

So, trailing a final "Sorry!" over my shoulder, I tore my eyes away from Jared's sublime body and fled. And that's exactly what it was, a headlong retreat from that smelly locker room and that beautiful body, out toward the salvation of the doorway to the rest of the high school, and all of a sudden the boys' locker room door was slamming behind me and leaving me, blinking, in the vestibule of the PE department, with a couple of parents already trailing in through a side door.

It wasn't until I'd at last plopped down at my desk as the clock hit 5:58 that I realized I hadn't been able to hit the bathroom. Motherfucker!

* * *

I left a lot more slowly than I'd arrived, my butt numb and sweaty from sitting in my chair for two hours, processing parent after parent after parent. They were nice enough, to be fair, and so was I: I have what my mom has always called "charm," by which she means the ability to put people at their ease. I was keenly aware that I was the new teacher on the block, and that the parents would justifiably be curious about me, so I made a special effort to be nice.

The dads were definitely curious about me, especially if I leaned forward a little when I made a point.

But I was done now at the stroke of eight o'clock, and I stretched my body high as I got up out of the chair. The rapid-fire arrival of the parents, starting almost as soon as I'd sat down, had kept my mind off anything but my job, though at the very first gap in the wall of parents I'd taken a quick, undignified jog to the bathroom, hiked up my skirt, dropped my panties and let it all go in a stream that was almost orgasmic in the sense of relief it gave me.

That had been an hour ago, so as I slung my teacher bag over my shoulder and trudged toward my door, I was pleasantly befuddled before I noticed one last parent standing in the doorway, looking uncertain. I summoned my charm, forgot about the clock, and smiled. "Parents' Night is technically over, sir, but if there's something I can do for you..."

The man looked up from his phone, startled. "What? Oh! Sorry. I just got a text from my son, telling me to come here." He glanced at my room number. "201. Are you Ms Norland?"

"Call me Ella," I smiled. "Pleased to meet you. Whose parent are you? I've got a few extra minutes for a late arrival." I dropped my bag on one of the front desks and hauled my gradebook back out. "Let me guess. Period 2?" It had been the class with the fewest parents showing up, a sad gathering of vapid freshmen with limited brain capacity, as far as I could tell.

"Uh, no. I don't think my son actually has you." He frowned once more at his phone. "I'm Kenny Meyer. I'm Jared's father."

"Oh!" I squeaked, at a complete loss, wondering suddenly whether I should get my resume together for the job hunt I'd need to do once his dad took me to task. Or whether it would even matter, if I was fired for creeping on a nude student in the boys' locker room. For in that moment, rushing at me like a tsunami, I remembered those sweet-looking balls dangling beneath that burgeoning young penis and I swear to god, my mouth started watering. "The running back," I stuttered, my composure quite gone.

"Yes. He texted me just now." Mr Meyer looked nice enough, though frazzled-looking, standing there in a flannel shirt and some Levi's. Steel-toed boots. Safety glasses. I wondered whether he worked construction or something. "He was wondering... well, I mean, he sent me to ask you about this thing the school does? Some kind of tutoring program?" I nodded, my heart pounding. I know my face and neck were scarlet. "He needs some help, like, with social studies."

"He's a senior, I think," I managed. "I teach freshmen."

"Right, but he's in Mr Herrick's senior elective class, and I... well, I don't think he's getting very much out of it. In fact, I just spoke with Mr Herrick, and he thought tutoring from someone else might be a good idea." He scratched at a balding scalp. I wondered, nervously and incredibly, whether he had as nice a dick as his son did, then banished that thought far away.

"Did Mr Herrick specifically suggest me as Jared's tutor?" I was signed up for the tutoring program, sure enough, and Scott Herrick was my department chair. But it seemed weird that he would recommend me. He barely knew me.

"Uh, no. That was Jared." He held up the phone helplessly, as though he could never think of refuting what was on it. "He says one of his teammates' sisters is in your class, and she thinks the world of you. So he wanted me to come up and see if you're available."

"Um." I knew the right answer, of course:

hell fuck no!

There was no conceivable good that could come out of me ever having anything to do with Jared Meyer and his magnificent body... I licked my lips. "Absolutely I'll do it. You know there's no charge for the program, Mr Meyer. There's a grant that pays us."

"Oh!" He brightened. "That's great. No, I didn't know that."

"We usually do the tutoring here, after school, but if it's more convenient for Jared, and if everything's going well, we can make other arrangements: the public library, maybe. At a park, if the weather's nice. Something like that. Though it's getting colder now." I was feeling giddy, letting my brain take a break while my heart took over. I felt a prickly heat behind my chest, and knew my blush was spreading. "Should I get Jared's contact information off the computer tomorrow, or do you want to just give it to me now?" I was talking fast, I knew, my heart thudding.

I wondered whether he could smell my pussy. I'd long since given up thinking this through, pondering the mistake I was letting myself in for.

Those balls I'd seen...

I didn't want to fuck Jared. Truly, I didn't. I just wanted to be around such a glorious man for awhile, to know what I was doing to him; I remembered that rising mushroom head...

"Sure." He frowned down at his phone, and that's how I left Bennett-Sanderson Parents' Night with the phone number of a gorgeous young man whose dick I'd seen lurching to half-mast.

For me. It had lurched for me. The thought made me blush anew, all the way down the stairs to my Honda.

* * *

Herrick was not helpful when I asked about Jared. "Well, you know, I teach a history-topics elective, in addition to AP," he explained from behind his big desk. Papers lay everywhere. "I assign a big project every year, and the seniors can do any topic they want. He wants the middle ages, so I advised him to ask a freshman teacher." He looked wearily up from my tits. "He picked you, huh?"

"I guess. What part of the middle ages, Scott?"

"No idea. You can help him refine everything." He shrugged. "Jared's smart. I figure he just needs a refresher; it's been almost four years since he's learned your material."

"Oh." That sounded a little safer. If Jared had asked for me because I'd made him hard, I didn't exactly want that getting around the school. But if he really did just need someone who understood the middle ages, that was a little better. "He's clearly heard the rumor that I'm excellent when it comes to feudal duties, cathedral architecture, and three-field agriculture." Herrick nodded doubtfully at me; he was not a medievalist. "When should I start?"

He spread his hands across his desk and sighed. "I don't care. The project's not due until the spring. That class is just in the introductory stages now. But as far as when you meet? That's up to you, Jared, and whoever coordinates that tutoring grant." He frowned. "The guidance office, maybe."

But I didn't really care. I had Jared's number in my phone and trembling fingers to text it with, so I sent off a neutral suggestion of next Wednesday after school for him to come in and see me in Room 201. He replied at once:

I've got practice then.

I frowned and asked him when he was available, and that's how I found myself waiting in my classroom at the end of the school day... on Friday.

I won't say I'd chosen my outfit with care, but I also hadn't slouched off, either. People at that school tended to dress down on Fridays, but I'd gone with one of my dresses, bright yellow so as not to point out how pale I was: my genes, alas, don't allow me to tan. I'd debated about wearing a little cardigan over top, and in the end I'd gone ahead and put one on. I was top-heavy enough without showing too much cleavage. And I didn't need Jared to see me blush down there, either.

I figured I'd be blushing.

He made his way in out of the packed throng in the hall, loping easily into my classroom like a man pulling himself out of a river. I was over on the other side of the room, pulling the blinds, when I heard his footsteps. "Hi, Jared!" I called over my shoulder with my usual bright smile. "Have a seat. I'm just closing these because the sun in the afternoon is just a bit too much for this room."

"Okay." I was keenly aware, as he scraped one of the chairs out, that my calves probably looked great with me reaching up like this, and if I held the pose a second or two longer than necessary? What did that matter? "Uh, thanks for agreeing to tutor me, Ms Norland."

"Of course." I moved on to the last window. I'd given a lot of thought to this meeting: would either of us mention the elephant in the room? If so, whom? Should it happen organically? Or should I, as the responsible and professional adult I was, just take the bull by the horns and confront it right off the bat? "Mr Herrick mentioned the middle ages, and that's my favorite thing to teach," I went on, the blinds clashing down before me. "I'm looking forward to discussing it with you."