Super Seven Ch 01 Allison

Greg Stevens sat at his desk staring about his classroom. The students had dashed out as soon as the final bell had rung. Every student lives for the last day of the school year, and even though many of them liked Mr. Stevens, it wasn't enough for them to stick around for even a few minutes.

He thought about his career. He had been an English teacher for the last nine years. There were parts of the job he couldn't stand (standardized tests and grading papers were at the top of the list), but he really did love working with the students.

Granted, the first couple of years were rough. He was way too uptight about discipline straight out of college. The third year, he had a special group of students that made him realize that he could be a better teacher by showing his students that he cared about them instead of insisting that they follow a list of random rules.

He hadn't thought about those students for a while. No one would blame him. This year had been a huge blow to his life. His met his beautiful, loving wife in college. They both claimed that it was love at first sight as they tried to check out the same book on English Lit from the library, and they were married in 6 months. She was a teacher of history, and their discussions of literature and history, and how each of the two reflected the other fueled much of their date night time. Both felt that a great conversation was also foreplay to a night of great passion.

After graduation, they both got jobs at the same school -- he taught 7th Grade English, and she was in 8th Grade History. Two years later, Mary gave birth to their daughter, and two years after that, they had a son. Life went on. Most days they followed the same routine. They would drop the kids off at their elementary schools, and then they would drive to the Junior High. At the end of the day, they would just do everything in reverse. Occasionally, one of them would have to stay to do some tutoring or grading or something.

That's what happened that day at the end of September. Greg had a few students that were really struggling with writing their essays, so he decided to stay an extra hour to work with them. Mary planned to get the kids, and then take them to her parents. She was then going to back to get Greg so they could go out to dinner together as a treat for them. Mary had just picked up the kids, and was driving to her parents' home in the country when the semi following her lost his brakes. He slammed into the back of her little compact car, and shoved her forward into the rear of another slow moving semi. She and the kids never had a chance -- all three were killed instantly.

Greg walked around in a daze for the next few weeks. The lives he cherished for the last few years was gone in an instant.

Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, his principal sat him down for a long talk.

He started, "Greg, how are you doing?"

"Honestly, Matt, I feel like crap."

"Greg, you can't keep doing this to yourself. You know I would never say anything to show disrespect to you or your family."

"I appreciate that, Matt."

"I know you deeply loved your family, and I'm not asking you to forget them. But I've also watched you grow as a teacher the last eight years. Remember, I'm the one that hired you straight out of college. And I've seen how your love for your students has grown each year."

"I do my best."

"Really, Greg? Can you honestly say that you're doing your best right now? I'm not sure I can truly understand how much you hurt right now, and I hope to God I never find out. But you're hurting your kids in the classroom just as much. They see your pain, and they know you're not giving them everything they need."

"I'm sorry." Greg started to tear up -- he could hear what his principal, his friend, was saying, and he knew it was true. "It's like all of my heart was crushed in that car that day. I'll try to do better."

Matt said, "I'm giving you an extra-long weekend this week. I want you to take off the next three days to do some serious thinking about how you want the rest of the year to go. And don't worry about the days off -- because I know that you're going to be thinking about school, I'm going to call these days professional development."

"Matt, I don't know what to say. I guess . . . just . . . thank you. You really are a good friend."

"Well, that's what friends do. Now be serious about this -- think about what you want for the rest of the school year. How can you make those kids in your classroom feel special and loved?"

So Greg went home, and he thought. He sat on the deck and watched the birds on the feeder, and he thought some more. He pretended to watch some programs on TV, and he thought some more. By the time Sunday night came around, he had made a decision. Unfortunately, it was not the one his principal wanted to hear.

"Okay, Matt, I did what you wanted. I thought about what was going to happen. I'm going to do everything I can to bring life back into my classroom."

"That's what I wanted to hear. Fantastic."

"But, Matt, this is it. At the end of the year -- seven months from now -- I'm leaving."

"What? No, you can't."

"Matt, I have to go. I love this school, I love my friends, and I love my kids, but there are too many painful memories connected here now. As long as I'm still here, I'll never fully heal."

"Okay, Greg, I do hear you. As your friend, and your principal, I hate what you're planning to do, but I respect your reasons for needing to do it."

"Thanks, Matt."

With a smile, Matt then added, "Of course, you have to expect that for the next seven months, I'm going to be doing everything I can to trick one of my best teachers in to staying."

Greg chuckled (a rare thing these days) and replied, "I wouldn't expect any less."

**********

So Greg Stevens continued to stare at the desks in his classroom. He would have to come back next week to finish grades and pack up all of his stuff, but today he just couldn't quite bring himself to leave. He had told all of his friends to not make a fuss on his last day, because he knew it would tear him apart. As it was, he could feel the tears start to form.

"Hey, Mr. Stevens!" the voice from the door shocked him out of his daydreams.

He quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, and in spite of his sadness, actually smiled. "Allison! What brings you here?"

He knew she was in the building. He had seen her down the hall earlier, talking to a couple of other teachers. Allison was one of that group of special students that had turned his life around in his third year of teaching. He realized that that group was made up entirely of girls -- they all competed together on a volleyball team -- and they called themselves the Super Seven.

"Well, I decided to come see all of my old teachers. Of course, you know I had to save my favorite for last."

She hadn't seen him since the Seven went together to the funeral last fall. He looked devastated then, but that was to be expected. She wasn't really prepared for how sad he looked now. She already knew what she was planning to do, but now she knew they might lose him forever.

"Ok, I'm not going to ask the stupid, obvious question, because I can see that you look and feel like shit."

"Allison!"

"Don't act surprised. You've known me and guided me for a long time. And you know I always say exactly what I'm thinking. You let me get away with it. In fact, you once told me, 'sometimes, certain words have to be said. If something is bullshit, you call it bullshit.' Do you not remember telling me that?"

He broke into another rare smile. "Yeah, I guess I did say something like that. But that doesn't mean I going to make sure you're not just trying to shock me."

"I know, and I'm sorry." She knelt by his desk and took his hand. "Mr. Stevens, I said it last fall, and I'm saying it again today. I am so sorry for your loss. I know you're hurting deep inside, and there's not much I can do to make you feel better. I'm just a former student that really cares very deeply about you."

"Thanks, Allison. I really do appreciate it." A tear started to form again.

"But there is one thing I can do. And I'm not going to take no for an answer. Here's the plan. You're going to go home, and get changed into a nice, but casual outfit -- jacket and tie, that sort of thing, but not too dressy. I'm going to pick you up at your place at 5. We have early reservations for dinner, because I figure you really don't want to be around a lot of people still."

"Wait, who said I wanted to go to dinner?"

"I said so. Remember, I say what I think, and this time, I'm telling you what to do, and you're going to listen. You're going to enjoy dinner; you're going to have 2-3 drinks. Remember, I'm nineteen, and I can't drink, so I will be your designated driver. You will talk. You will dump out your heart on my sympathetic shoulder."

"Allison, I don't know if I can or even if I should."

"You have to. This isn't just to make you feel better. I need to talk to you about some really serious shit in my life, and I can't do that" she paused, "you can't properly listen to me, while you're still carrying all of your baggage. And I'm not kidding -- I have a couple of really serious life-changing things I need you to talk to you about."

"Ok, Allison, I'll try."

She smiled and said, "Thanks, I'll see you at 5." And she literally skipped out the door.

In spite of how he felt, Greg smiled again -- probably the biggest smile since last fall.

**********

True to her word, Allison showed up at his house at 5:00. After he left school, he wasn't sure what he should do. The teacher in him kept thinking, "I can't go to dinner with a student, even if I haven't had her in class for years." But at the same time, another part of him said, "screw it, I'm not a teacher anymore, and she's probably right, I need to try to have a good time -- I can't keep living in this darkness."

So he went home, took a quick shower, and got dressed in simple khakis, a pale blue shirt, his favorite purple tie, and a jacket. Simple, but nice.

When Allison pulled into the drive, and honked, he took a deep breath, and slipped out the door. He opened the passenger door of the car, and froze, gasping for breath. Allison was wearing a short black dress -- tastefully low-cut, and showing off her perfect legs. He felt something that he hadn't felt for months. The blood seemed to rush to his face and his pants at the same time.

"What's the matter, Mr. Stevens? Don't you know the perfect outfit is a simple LBD? You were married for quite a while. I know Mrs. Stevens had to have had a couple of these in her closet."

"Well, yeah, she did, but still, Allison, you're beautiful!"

"Don't sound so surprised. I may be a little rough around the edges, but I'm still also kind of a girly-girl. Now get in, we've got reservations."

The restaurant she took him to was just a local place, but they were well-known for great food, and private spaces. The perfect place for couples to meet. Greg had another tinge of guilt flash across his face.

Allison noticed. "Relax, I'm not here to seduce you--" She paused, but didn't set his mind at ease. "But I figured you might want someplace more private, so people couldn't hear you dump all your troubles."

Surprisingly, that was the perfect thing for her to say. She watched him noticeably relax. They were quickly seated at a booth toward the back.

Allison started, "OK, what's your drink limit?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm pretty positive you don't drink a lot, but I need you to drink a little so you loosen up and open up. At the same time, I need to make sure you don't drink too much, so that you're not passed out worthless when I need you later this evening. So what's your limit?"

"You're right, I don't drink much. The first time I really got drunk was at a friend's bachelor party. I had 5-6 drinks, threw up, passed out, and had a horrible hangover for the next couple of days. I vowed never to do that again. Since then, I've never had more than 2 drinks in one night."

The wheels were clearly turning in Allison's head. Greg couldn't help but be captivated by her. As a teacher, he couldn't help but notice that she was pretty, but he never once felt attracted to his students. Now, he looked, and he liked what he saw. Her breasts were perfectly sized -- not too small, not too large -- just peeking out the top of her dress. He tried to be as subtle as possible, hoping she didn't notice him adjusting his pants a little when they tightened.

Her slender neck was teased by a few strands of her hair. Her lips were full, and she was wearing a classic red lipstick, in striking contrast to her Little Black Dress. But then he noticed her eyes. How could he have never looked into her eyes? They were an almost glowing green.

Some men are leg men, some ass men, some breast men. Granted, Greg loved women's breasts. He would play with and suck on his wife's breasts for hours -- before, during, and after her pregnancies. Sometimes she had to ban him from buying more bras at Victoria's Secret, because she couldn't wear them all, but he couldn't help it, he loved the look of her breasts in a beautiful bra. And yet, truthfully, beyond all that, Greg was an eye man. He found himself lost in Allison's eyes. She had him, at least for a little while. They both smiled.

"OK, here's the plan. We're going to have a nice little dinner. You're going to have a drink. We'll talk a little, but we're not going to get too deep here. I have a feeling you'll need a little more privacy for that. We'll go back to your place. You'll have another drink. You'll talk and shout and cry and anything else you need while I listen -- but you'll try to get as much of it out as you can. Then you'll have another drink so that I can have my turn to talk. We'll get it all out, and then I'll put you to bed, and the night will be done."

He didn't say it out loud, but he mind was racing with "what do you mean, you'll put me to bed?" Surely, she wasn't thinking that. Was she?

**********

Dinner went exactly as Allison predicted. They didn't get into anything deep. They talked about school -- both his and her college. They talked a little about family. It had been so long since she was in his class, that he had forgotten a lot about her family.

The one thing that surprised him was how animated Allison had become over the last few years. She talked with her hands a lot, and kept reaching out to touch him on the hand or arm. At first he pulled back a little, but gradually he become more comfortable. By the time they were ready to leave, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to grab his hand.

She took his arm as they were leaving the restaurant, and he didn't seem to mind. As they got to her car, he opened the door for her. She got into the car and her legs parted, giving Greg a quick look at her black lace panties. Again blood rushed to his face, and to his cock (there, he thought it this time, but it still made him blush. She smiled at him as he closed her car door. He quickly moved around the car to get into the passenger seat.

The drive back to his house seemed to take no time at all. But part of that could be because he couldn't keep his eyes off the rising hemline of Allison's dress. Something about the mystery of what it covered had him enthralled. Allison, of course, noticed, and smiled.

She pulled into his driveway and turned off the car. This time Greg jumped out of the car and sprinted around to open her door for her. As Allison stepped out, she seemed to stretch her leg to the side even more, which opened her legs enough to give Greg a very clear view of her lace covered mound.

"Thank you, kind sir -- but don't expect a tip -- besides, I think you just got it." She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Greg blushed again. He wondered what power this girl (this beautiful woman) had on him. He hadn't blushed this much in a long, long time. He realized his pulse was racing -- it was like he was starting to wake up from a long sleep.

As soon as they got in the house, Allison pushed Greg onto the couch. "You don't move. I'll be right back." She went into the kitchen, where he could hear that she was clearly opening up a beer to bring to him. She came back in and sat on the couch right next to him, but she sat just slightly sideways, so she could face him better.

"Here, you drink and listen for a few minutes. Then it'll be your turn to talk. Here's the deal. I know you don't want to talk about this. It's been months, but Mary was the love of your life -- a love that doesn't come around that often -- and it's going to hurt every time you think about it. But if you keep it inside all the time, it's just going to kill you. And there are too many people in your life that love you, and none of us wants that to happen. So, who are you going to talk to? You could talk to your mother, but we both know you're not going to that, right?

"I can't. She's still hurting really badly from my dad's death a couple of years ago. She stills cries on my shoulder about him. I can't force my problems on her."

"I always liked your parents. I remember them coming to watch us play volleyball. Your dad seemed to really get into it."

"He loved watching you girls play. He began playing volleyball when he was in junior high school. He was good at it. He said whenever he got the serve, it was over. Nobody could handle his serve. I believe it -- I saw him play at church picnics."

Allison excitedly said, "that explains it. At one of our matches, he was talking to me about my serving technique. He taught me some things to try, but he also told me to experiment and figure out what was best for me."

Greg thought for a second, "you know, now that I think about it, I do see some of his serve in yours." He got really quiet for a minute. "I really miss him. I could have really used his wisdom right now. That damn stroke. I know he wasn't in the best health, but come on, to die at 50? Is this what I get to look forward to?"

"Darling, you take much better care of yourself. Yes, it could happen, but if you watch yourself, it's a lot less likely."

He closed his eyes and nodded -- or was he starting to sob. He shook his head, and got himself back under control.

"How are Mary's parents? I know you really couldn't talk to them. I know you -- in your mind, you're thinking that it would hurt them too much if you talked to them."

"I have no doubt about that. Bill and Carol are wonderful people, but that lost their only child in that accident. They lost the only grandchildren they're going to have. They're only in their early 50s. They've got a long life ahead of them, thinking about these huge holes in their lives. I could never do anything that might hurt them more."

"Do you still talk to them?

"Yeah, I still talk to them every couple of days, and go over to have dinner with them at least every other week."

"Mr. Stevens, you realize they still have a son. They love you. They're not going to let you go, and I'm sure they're hurting a little because they watch you carry around this pain all the time. You're they last remaining connection to their little girl. But when you're carrying around this hurt, they remember the accident. You've got to start getting better so they can remember the good things as well."

He looked in her eyes. "When did you get so wise?"

"I've always been wise, and beautiful, and sexy. But you've always been deeply in love with your wife, and too much of a gentleman to ever notice anything else. That's one of the reasons we all love you." She paused. "It's time. Tell me about the accident."

His eyes suddenly unfocused, staring off into the distance. "There's not much to tell. You already know the story." He paused, and then he started to cry. He screamed. "Why? Why, God, why? Why did this happen? Mary was so wonderful. I didn't deserve her. She was like an angel. And then she was stolen from me. And such beautiful sweet children. So happy all the time. They were like little angels, too. Stolen!" Another scream. The tears started to flow now. He looked at the beer bottle in his hand, and threw it into the wall across the room. Luckily it didn't shatter, but it left a hole in the drywall.