Author's note: We have a newly qualified teacher in my school this year. He seems to be very efficient, and he's settled down well. His classroom manner is both confident and outgoing, yet in the staff room he's quiet, and speaks only when he's spoken to. What follows is my take on the two opposite traits of this young man's life. It is, of course, pure fantasy, and will be written in two (or possibly three) parts..
As in all my writing, all sex described takes place between consenting adults of at least eighteen years of age.
Comments are welcomed, but nothing beats a score using the star system here. All authors appreciate their readers evaluating their work. Enjoy my little fantasy!
Justin Thomas got into his car and closed the door. He put his seat belt on and turned on the engine. The children had all been collected from school a good while ago, but Justin still drove very slowly and carefully out of the car park and onto the main road. It was the end of his first half term as a classroom teacher, and he had a whole week's holiday to look forward to. Plans had been made well in advance, and Justin eagerly looked forward to the coming week.
The drive home was uneventful, and seventeen minutes after leaving school, Justin was parking his car on the drive of the semi-detached house that he shared with his widowed mother. Despite earning a decent salary since he had got the teaching job that he had applied for almost six months ago, Justin could not yet afford to move out of the family home. His student loan repayment took a hefty chunk of his salary, and his mother insisted that he contribute to the housekeeping fund that she carefully managed. Money in the Thomas household was stretched very thin indeed.
Justin opened the front door with his latch key and called out to his mother, as usual.
"Hi, mam! I'm home."
He stopped and looked at the suitcase in the hallway. His winter overcoat and his raincoat were also there, chucked carelessly on the floor. Justin felt a sense of panic.
"Mam?" he called out again, louder this time. "Mam? Are you alright? Where are you?"
He hurried down the hallway and into the small back kitchen. He stopped and gave a sigh of relief. His mother was sitting at the kitchen table. She looked up as he came in.
"There you are!" Justin said with a smile. "I called when I came in. Didn't you hear me? You had me worried for a minute."
Martha Thomas looked at her son.
"You filthy pervert!" she snapped. "You disgust me! I want you out of this house now! What your dear, departed father would have made of this, heaven only knows!"
Martha turned the lap top computer that Justin hadn't noticed sitting on the kitchen table around. On the screen was an image of a naked middle aged woman. She had a long thin cane in one hand and a smoldering cigar between the fingers of the other hand. How the hell had he forgotten to close his lap top down before leaving for school that morning?
"Filth!" screeched Martha. "I wondered what you got up to in your bedroom. Now I know! You spend your time looking at disgusting pictures like this! Look at her! She's my age at least, and she hasn't got a stitch of clothing on! Why she's holding that cane I shudder to imagine. And she's smoking! Women who smoke are either trollops or prostitutes in my experience, and I will not have either sort under my roof! I've packed your suitcase. Get out!"
"Mam, I can expl..."
"Did you not hear me?" Martha cut across Justin's attempt to justify himself. "If you are not out of my house in the next two minutes, I'm going to telephone the police, the local newspaper and your head teacher. I'm sure they will be as disgusted as I am to learn what a pervert you are. Now get out!"
Justin sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. His legs were trembling, and he felt sick. His mother stood up and stared at him, her hands on her hips.
"I want your front door key now!" she snapped, snatching Justin's car keys out of his hand. She took the front door key off the bunch and put it in her apron pocket.
"What are you waiting for?" she said savagely. "Do I have to go and phone Mrs. Simpson and tell her what a disgusting pervert she has on her teaching staff?"
Justin knew when he was beaten. He got to his feet.
"I'm sorry, mam," he muttered, reaching for his laptop.
Martha slapped his hand away.
"Oh no you don't," she snapped. She picked up the teapot from the table and poured the contents over the keyboard.
"Mam! You'll ruin it!" Justin cried, but too late. The laptop gave a sharp, electric crackle and a whisp of smoke emerged from the keyboard.
Martha wasn't finished though. She picked up the sugar bowl and dumped the contents onto the wet keyboard. The white granules soaked up the tea and turned into a brown sticky mass.
Finally, Martha got hold of the bread board and used it to hit the screen several times. The screen shattered and the image disappeared.
"Now you can have it," she said to her son with a look of contempt. "Don't slam the front door on your way out!"
She folded her arms and turned her back deliberately on Justin.
He looked at the wrecked laptop, decided it was beyond repair, and slowly made his way out of the kitchen. In the hallway, he picked up his two coats and the suitcase and opened the front door.
"She'll come round," he thought to himself as he put his suitcase in the boot of the car. His two coats went on the back seat, and he got back into the car.
"I'll buy her a bunch of flowers and everything will be alright," he told himself as he drove down the quiet street. Where the hell was he going to spend the night? And how on earth was he going to contact Edith, the woman whose image his mother had found so distasteful? All her contact details were on his laptop, and they were supposed to meet tomorrow afternoon.
"Think!" Justin urged himself as he drove aimlessly into town. "What the hell was her address? I know it's somewhere outside Wales. Now was it Bristol or Bath?"
Having spent the most uncomfortable night of his life trying and failing to get some sleep on the back seat of his car, Justin drove to the centre of town and went into the local cafe and ordered himself a cooked breakfast.
With that under his belt, he felt marginally better. He returned to his car and drove to the supermarket on the outskirts of town. A huge bunch of flowers cost him twelve pounds, but he thought the outlay was justified if it got him back into the house. He returned to his car and set off for home.
The entrance to the drive was blocked by a large van. Justin cursed and drove past his mother's house. He managed to find a parking space about fifty yards down the street, and he pulled in. He picked up the flowers from the back seat, locked the car and started the walk back to his mother's house.
As he approached, he saw his mother talking to her next door neighbour. Then he caught sight of the side of the van that was blocking the drive. Painted on the side was the legend 'King of Keys and Lord Locksmith'.
Realisation hit home. His mother was having the locks on her house changed! He concealed himself behind the van and strained his ears to hear what his mother and Mrs. Williams were talking about.
"Yes," Justin's mother was saying, "it was a bit of a shock. But I didn't want to hold Justin back. He needs a place of his own, and anyway, Mr. Davies, the new curate at the church is moving in this afternoon. The vicar got in touch with me recently. He thought that I'd be able to help out, given that my late husband had been the vicar before him. I was only too pleased to be able to tell him that I could offer Mr. Davies house room now that Justin has moved out. He's such a kind, respectable young man. And very devout too, so they say."
Her words hit Justin like a steam hammer. So that was it. His room in the house was to be occupied by a curate. Well, there was no return home for him now. Justin turned on his heel and stalked back to the car. He tossed the bunch of flowers over the fence of the house in front of where he had parked, and got into the car. He slammed the car into gear and drove off.
"I'll have to find lodgings somewhere," he told himself as he parked the car in the centre of town. The local estate agent's office wasn't far away, and he set off to see if they had anything suitable.
Stopping outside the shop window, Justin looked at the advertisements on display. Everything he saw was for sale, and the prices being asked made his eyes water. He could never afford that sort of money.
Sighing heavily, Justin went into the shop to make enquiries about properties for rent. He stopped in his tracks as he saw the person to whom the estate agent was talking. It was Olwen Simpson, his head teacher. The conversation seemed to be at an end, and Mrs. Simpson turned and was on the point of walking out when, seeing Justin, she stopped in her tracks.
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"Oh, fucking hell!" I thought as I saw Justin coming in to the estate agent's shop. "Did he hear that conversation I just had? If he did, I bet he'll be wondering why I've just explained that Nigel Rees is no longer to consider himself my boyfriend."
I managed to keep my composure and to sound quite pleased to see my young colleague as I said,
"Good morning, Justin. What brings you into Rees and Company Estate Agents this beautiful Saturday morning?"
Justin seemed to be tongue tied.
"Um... oh, hello, Mrs. Simpson. I... um... that is... I... er..."
I smiled at him, and made my mind up not to embarrass him further. I love humiliating my cuckold, but he consents to my treating him like that. Justin was a different prospect altogether.
"Enjoy your half-term holiday," I smiled and I walked past him out of the shop. I had things to do. Nigel Rees was no longer in my life. As a respectable Hot Wife, I told my cuckold about all the men I had casual sex with, and he was also aware of any long-term boyfriends I took up with.
Nigel had been one of the latter. We had been seeing one another for about three months. I say 'seeing'. What I really mean is 'fucking', of course. But now I'd decided enough was enough.
