This is chapter one of a new story...I hope you enjoy it! Please, let me know your feelings on the subject. Send comments and feedback (my favourite), and don't forget those stars!
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Miranda Walker was nervous. It was her first day of school... sort of.
It had been years since she was in this situation, and a lot had happened since then.
Let's see... was teaching... met a guy... fell in love... got pregnant... got married... stopped teaching... gained twenty pounds... lost the baby... gained another twenty pounds... found out husband was cheating bastard... divorced cheating bastard.
Then there was the long road back, which started with a decision to take control of her life again.
Started working out... lost some weight... started riding a bike... lost more weight... went back to school... updated teaching credentials... got in great shape, better than ever. Felt great, but her once proud D cups, which had ballooned to EE when she was pregnant, had deflated to a rather disappointing pair of floppy Cs.
That disappointment had led to a wonderful plastic surgeon, with whom she had been involved for a short time. It had been his idea to go bigger with her implants, but, truth be told, it hadn't been hard to convince her. Now, she was glad he had. He had taken such care in skillfully augmenting her breasts, that she hardly had a scar visible on her magnificent G cup bust. Riding the bike had toned and tightened her thighs and ass, so that despite her African American Heritage, she didn't have excess 'junk in the trunk'. However, with her long, strong legs, and shapely rear end, she was a force to be reckoned with in a short skirt.
Then, during the Christmas holidays, a local high school biology teacher, visiting his family in Michigan, had been involved in a terrible car accident. He would recover, but not this school year.
So Miranda had received the call to take over the class, and 19 years after she had left this same school, she found herself walking through the front door, feeling pangs of fear. She found the restroom, right where she remembered it.
"Jeez, Miranda, you're a thirty-eight year old woman, not a teenager, and you're the teacher," she muttered to herself in the mirror. "Pull it together." She gave herself another hard look. She thought she looked pretty good. Her skin was a smooth mocha colour, without a wrinkle. She had the stereotypical wide nose and pouty lips of a black woman, but, thanks to her flat iron, her hair was straight and smooth. She wore a dark reddish brown shade of lipstick, less overtly sexy than a brighter shade, and closer to the natural tone of her wide lips.
She walked out of the restroom, and went directly to the administration office to meet with the principal.
****
Michael had always hated biology class. He and the teacher, Mr. Pendergrass, had never seen eye to eye, but that honestly may have been largely his own fault, the result of a poorly timed joke that had run him afoul of the prof early in the school year. He had heard about Mr. Pendergrass' accident, and wondered if that made the situation better or worse. They'd probably get some old fart as a substitute.
That's when Miranda walked into the classroom.
Holy shit!
Michael thought,
that's our substitute? Wow!
He was enthralled by the tall, beautiful black woman who took a position behind the teacher's desk. She was wearing a matching navy blue jacket and skirt, with a white blouse, and when the jacket came off, he made the defining discovery about his new teacher; she had huge tits, which the lab coat she donned did little to hide.
The classroom was noisy, as one would expect when the students all knew they were getting a substitute teacher. Miranda chose not to compete with the cacophony, instead standing quietly at the front of the class, arms crossed, waiting for them to settle down. One by one, the students noticed her and fell silent.
"Thank you," she said. "As I'm sure you have all heard by now, Mr. Pendergrass was injured in a car accident during the holidays. He will be fine, but it looks like he's out of commission for this school year, so I will be taking over for the duration. Could someone please tell me what the last thing you covered was?"
That question would have normally been answered by one of the brown-nosers that every class inevitably has, but there was something about the new teacher that compelled Michael to pipe up. Actually, make that
two
things.
"Yes, Ma'am," he said quickly, before anyone else could respond. "We had just started Chapter Eight before the holidays." There were a few derisive 'kissy' sounds from the equally inevitable disruptive students.
"Thank you,...?" Miranda said, asking his name without asking. He finally caught on.
"Oh... Um, Michael Smith, Ma'am" he answered.
"Thank you, Michael, and please, everyone... call me Ms. Walker. I'll get your names as we go along. Okay, open your textbooks to Chapter Eight, and we'll get started..."
Just like that, she was in control. 'Teacher mode' kicked in, and the butterflies in her stomach settled down. Mostly, anyway. They seemed to take flight again whenever she looked in Michael's direction, and she didn't know why. Sure, he was a big, handsome, strong young man... with piercing blue eyes, and big, strong hands, and...
Get a grip,
Miranda, she reminded herself, but her loins still tingled at her previous thoughts.
She settled into her new routine. There were notable exceptions of course, but most of 'her' kids were pretty good, and she was enjoying the challenge of teaching again. Days became weeks, and weeks became months.
****
Then one day things changed dramatically.
Miranda looked up from her class schedule to see what the commotion was, and saw Jennifer, a petite blonde, talking to Michael. She walked away, and Michael, visibly upset, kicked his chair back against the next row.
One of the other boys in the class walked by. "Tough luck, Wilbur," he sneered, unfortunately not quite out of retribution range. Michael grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him back, cocking his right hand maliciously.
Miranda saw it happening, and was quickly there to break up the trouble. "Stop it, both of you!" she demanded. "You," she pointed at the instigator, "mouth shut, and get out!" Michael released him, and started to leave himself. Miranda knew that once they left the classroom, it would flare up again, unless she held one of them back. She also wanted to know what had precipitated Michael's mood swing. He was normally a good kid.
"Michael, you stay, please," she asked, softening her tone. "Take a seat." She looked at him, waiting for him to look up. Eventually, the silence got to him, and he did. "What's up," she probed, "it isn't like you to start a fight."
"I didn't start it!" Michael snapped immediately, angrily.
"I know. I heard what he said. That's not the question. What has you so upset that you wanted to punch someone?"
Exasperation overcame anger. "Never mind... I promise not to do it again."
"I know that, too, but I'm offering to help you sort out something that's obviously bothering you. Was it Jennifer? Is that what started it?" she asked quietly. There was a long pause before Michael replied.
"Yeah... I guess she is what started it, this time... but it's not her fault really. She's just the straw that broke the camel's back," he answered, baring a little more of the truth for Miranda to work with.
"Okay. What's the problem with Jennifer? She's cute, right? Did you ask her out?"
"Oh sure, she's cute," he answered, almost, but not quite smiling, "and I did ask her out. We were supposed to go out tonight, but she cancelled, because she talked..." He stopped abruptly, anger welling up again.
"Calm down. You were doing so well. Who did she talk to? What did that have to do with her cancelling?" Miranda asked.
Michael rubbed his hands on his thighs, blew out a long breath, and relented. "Okay, but remember, you asked for the whole story, right?" Miranda nodded. "Jennifer talked to some of the other girls I've gone out with... ones where things got, um, uh,... physical... and they told her not to go out with me."
"Really? That's not very nice. What did you do wrong to them?"
"I didn't force them to do anything, if that's what you mean."