Blac Male 'd'

THIS IS A STORY OF FICTION. SOME PARTS MAY BE EXTREME. ALL RELEVANT CHARACTERS ARE 18 or OVER

**************

It was the beginning of the school year. A New class of Freshman were feeling their way around campus for the first time. The Seniors', however, were anxious for the year to hurry up, so they can graduate and move on.

Pulling up in my Tesla, l pulled into the faculty parking lot. This was my first actual day, as the new 12th grade History teacher, at Newport High School. My anxiety was high, as I took a higher paying position at one of the more "difficult" schools. But having taught for, now, 10 years, I figured I would soon get into my own rhythm and comfort. At 34, I recently moved from Colorado to New Hampshire.

My name is Kara Marshall and I'm petite, 5'4 and 115 lbs. With, long, dirty blonde hair, and green eyes, I am considered attractive. Very demure in my appearance and demeanor, I like to portray my new self as a moral person, with an honest moral code regarding my life. Religious, I attend church every Sunday. I am a Sunday School teacher, and pride myself in fundraising causes. But through this "perfect" facade, I hold one secret, I subconsciously hoped would never, ever be brought to the surface. Being the reason I left Colorado in the first place, I was hoping a fresh start would do me good. Having started seeing someone, I figured everything in my life was, indeed, perfect.

*********

Stepping out of my car, I retrieved my bag, and began walking down the roadway.

Making my way down the aisle of vehicles, I passed several student and faculty, all going about their daily ways.

With my 3" yellow stilettos clicking clacking on the pavement, unbeknownst to me, I was being ogled. The male students, under their respective breaths, catcalled me.

People tell me I look like the actress Christie Brinkley. I have always been grateful for my beauty. Wearing my shoulder length, blond hair, and bangs over my beautiful blue eyes, the glasses I wore, make my eyes stand out even more. Having freckles in "all the right places" as I've been told, I am happy with the compliments. Wearing a, simple, but floor length summer dress, the tan pantyhose that adorn my legs, completed my days wardrobe.

Entering through the doors, the chatter was buzzing, kids were finding their new lockers. Remembering from my summer orientation, my classroom was in West Hall, Room 401, so I made my way there.

"Hi, good morning!" The cheerful voice sounded, "Kara, correct?"

The Principal, Mary Smith, held her hand out to me for a greeting. Taking it, I exchanged pleasantries.

"Yes, it is, thank you," I said, with a smile, accentuating my beautiful, white teeth.

"Don't believe the stories you may have heard about Newport. This a school that has come far under my watch, but we still, do, have characters," she announced, with the understanding she lets all new teachers know. Adding, she said, "My door is always open." Thanking her, I proceeded to my classroom.

Entering my 1st period, several students had already arrived, sitting and mingling. Going to my desk, I put my things down, and fished out my laptop. Opening it, I looked over my student roster.

"RIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGG!"

With the 8am bell sounding, the other kids began strolling in. With the kids sat, I began calling roll.

"Sean Abrams?"

"Here!"

"Molly Benson?"

"Present"

Down the roster, I was calling out names. With 3 absences, I proceeded with my duties.

"Good morning, class. I'm your history teacher this year. My name is Miss Marshall."

Suddenly, a disturbance occurred. Looking at the door, three young African-American males walk into my class.

"Sup! Yo! Yo! Yo!" With the rap music coming from his I-phone playing loudly, the three stop cold.

Staring at me, all three in unisom say, "Dayyyumm!"

"Are you boys in my class?" I asked, with my hand on my hip.

"Shit, I am now," one of the boys said.

Another one also said, "If you're fine ass is my teacher, I'll be in this class too.

"What are your names," the impatience starting to manifest.

"I'm Jamal, this dumbass is Marcus, and this clown is Tyrell," pointing at the other two.

"First off, language. That will not be tolerated, ummm....,"

"Jamal," He said.

"Yes, Jamal," I said, exuding my authority in the classroom. "Secondly, I'd prefer you refer to me as Miss Marshall."

"Miss, huh," Jamal looked, inquisitively. "You ain't got no man?"

Refocusing, I said, "My private life is non of your concern, young man." Turning, I moved towards my desk.

"I'd smash that," Marcus said, a little too loudly.

Stopping, I pivoted, looking back at my class. "What did you say?" Looking at the three boys.

Laughing, Tyrell remarked, "Nothing, we was just messin'."

Telling myself, "These are the clowns, I gather." I went to my seat.

Folding my left leg over my right, my dress came over my knee, quickly showing my nyloned clad leg. Smoothing my dress out, I proceeded to teach.

************

RIIINGGGG!!!!!!!!

The sound of the bell ending 1st period, the kids all gathered their belongings and headed out for their next class.

"Jamal, Marcus, Tyrell?" I said, "Could I have a word with you?," My voice authoritative.

As the last student walked out, I stood from my desk and spoke. "I may be a new teacher here, but I'm no pushover. I give respect.. when earned. So I'm going to tell you boys, I don't mind giving out detention, and I don't EVER want to hear, what was said earlier. Are we understood?"

Laughing amongst themselves, "Jamal, clearly the ringleader, says, "Yea, whatever."

Turning to leave, they all say, "Damn, bitch be trippin'" As the students for my next period began to filter in, I continued my day.

The lunch bell rings, and I head over to the teacher lounge. There, I meet my fellow facutly members. One of the men, Jim Thomas, the gym coach, seemed to take an immediate liking to me.

Explaining to him that I just began seeing someone, he took the hint.

************

As the day ended and, as my last students leave, I was gathering my things. I, soon, hear boisterous talking in the hall.

"Shit, I'll have that bitch beggin' for my dick," one of them said.

"Bruh, you fat as fuck. She ain't lettin' you nowhere near her fine ass," another said.

"The white bitch, got attitude homie. She fuckin' with the wrong dawg," Jamal said.

Hearing the three continue down the hall, I immediately headed to the Principal's office.

"Principal Smith," I sighed, thankful she had a few minutes, "I have a small problem."

"Please, call me Mary," she declared, "We're adults here. A big smile covering her older face.

"Of course, Mary. I have 3 students..."

Stopping me, she interrupted, "I knew you'd already have issues. Let me guess, Jamal, Marcus and Tyrell?" Leaning forward at her desk.

"Yes, how did you fathom," I asked, bewildered.

"They've been my biggest problem children since their Freshman year," she announced, waving her hand dismissively at me. "I'm sorry I had to put them in your class, but Mr Wright already had the 3 and, lets just say, it was a disaster. Besides, Marcus and Tyrell come from fortunate backgrounds. Jamal... not so much."

Listening carefully, she continued. "Marcus and Tyrell are brothers. Their mother, is a well known activist around the state. So we have to tread lightly when it comes to discipline as "paper trails" are recommended.

"And Jamal?," I asked.

"He's the ring leader, his father is in prison, so he stays with an aunt," she added, giving me the details.

"Oh goodness, what have i gotten myself into?" I uttered to myself, rubbing my temples.

Laughing, Mary explained that a tough, but firm, stance goes a long way, but if I had to give detention, just inform her of my intentions.

"Hey thanks," I said, a little more knowledgeable on the subjects. "I need to go, I'm having dinner at Campo's with my boyfriend, tonight."

"Oooh ritzy," she remarked. "That's pricey," she added, as I began leaving.

"Mark will pay for it," I laughed, winking at her.

************

Eating our dinner, my boyfriend and I were discussing our days. Mark was explaining future business trips, deals he was assigned to help negotiate, etc. When he asked how my first day went, I let out a tremendous sigh.

"Phewwww." My exasperation slightly returning, I commented, "It went well overall, I just think I'm going to have a few characters to deal with this year."

Empathetic, Mark voiced his sentiment. "Tell me about it."

"Well, there are 3 boys, and they are the "troubled" ones, our Principal told me. I had to put their sexist remarks in the appropriate place."

Alarmed, Mark straightened up. "Sexist remarks?"

Nodding in the affirmative, I explained, "One would "like to hit that; another would "have me begging for his private part." You know, the filthy things todays youth aren't educated about, manners wise today."

"Chuckling, but still serious, Mark answered back, "Yeah, I can see why you immediately sighed when I posed the question. Do you think the Principal will assist you with the remarks?"

"I handled that aspect, personally, after class,"I explained, a confident demeanor in my words. "I'll reach out to her if there is a next time. I like to try solving matters, big or small, in my classroom before I go higher up."

Putting his hand on my leg, I reminded Matt, "I'm saving myself for marriage, Buster. We've had this discussion before." With a wink in my eye, and a sad face on his, we continued with our evening.

**************

The next day, the same result occurred. Bell rings, I begin calling roll, and my 3 clowns loudly interrupt the early morning proceedings. Even trying to get them to answer questions about the 'Axis' and 'Allies' garnered, snarky, "yo mama" answers. I did my best to push the distractions aside, as my other students participated, willingly, in historical discussions.

During my 'open' hour. I was eating my lunch in my classroom, while I was, also, preparing for my final two classes of the day. With a slight rapping on the door, I saw Principal Smith outside. Waving her in, I greeted her.

With my attention on Mary, I asked, "What brings you in?"

"Just checking on you, seeing how you're adjusting to your role, classroom, kids," She impartially, inquired.

Putting my fork down, from the pasta salad, I was enjoying, I answered, "It's been 2 days, so I haven't really found a rhythm, yet, but I'm positive that will be sooner, rather than, later." A smile appearing on her face, I proceeded, "I'm not concerned about the lessons and course study I will be teaching, but I do have my concerns about Jamal, Marcus, and Tyrell; The snarky remarks, nothwithstanding, I feel I'll have to deal with them all year." With a couple minutes before the bell was to ring, we ended our current conversation.

As the day came to an end, I'd gathered my belongings and proceeded to leave. Walking to my car, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, Jamal and his friends, watching me. Uncomfortableness setting in, I beelined for my Tesla, got in, and left.

Little did I know, them seeing what kind of car I drive, would, soon, change my life, forever.

*************

A week later, I finally had enough,

"Alright, that's it," I was at my wits end, as I was being prevented, again, from explaining the lesson for the day. "You boys will be staying after school. I will be informing Principal Smith, after the class is over." My voice, normally sweet, reserved, patient, had a more serious, exasperated sound to it. "These interruptions have become unbearable."

Seeing the boys laugh, as I'd learn they have had detention several times prior, Marcus responded, "Whatever." I could tell Jamal, himself, wasn't pleased with my defiant stance.

The deplorable comments, from how I dress, to continuously trying to impede into my private life, or just making rude, and even disgusting comments about me, had really upset me.

"Girl, the way you dressin', dammmm," Jamal would say. I'd catch him, or one of the myriad of other male students in my other classes, staring at my, nylon clad, legs. Jamal, and occasionally, Marcus, would make comments about my legs. So when I arrived in class today, wearing blue jeans, sneakers, and a Colorado St. University sweater, that seemed to get a different response from Jamal.

After the first week, he would ask me probing questions, like where I lived before, what did I do before I took up teaching, etc. Reluctant to share any of my personal information, I would remind him we're here to learn, not get into personal business.

As the class ended, and the students filed out, Jamal stayed behind. Seeing this, my anxiety went up a notch. "What is he going to say to me this time?" I thought to myself, as he always, seemingly has something to say.

"Yo, Miss Marshall, you look really familiar," he pointed out. Unsure of his statement, I just listened to his words. "I've seen you somewhere before, but I can't figure it out."

Not interested in his banter, I reminded him, "I'll see you after school."

************

For the next few days, things were normal. I was able to teach and there were minimal disruptions. Sure, there were the usual, "outbursts" from the three stooges, but, under the circumstances, I felt like the tide may be turning a little.

Noticing Jamal, seemingly deep in thought, from time to time, I could only imagine what he was plotting. Like, what new material is he coming up with, what other shenanigans is he planning, etc. Learning that he's the, proverbial, straw that stirs the drink, I realized he is the aggressor in everything, and Marcus and Tyrell just go along with it.

Most shocking was, during class, I would see the other 2 goofing off, but Jamal was sitting there, listening. I now know, that it wasn't because he was interested in learning about the 'Cold War' or 'Bay of Pigs'. What he ultimately learned, was the last thing I ever wanted found out.

***********

"Guys! Cut it out. Now!," my voice raising, Jamal was back to his 'normal' self. Throwing papers in the room, or pushing the book off a students desk, the immaturity was back, full steam ahead. All period long, the tension became thicker and thicker until, again, I'd had enough. "Out! Now!; I'll be informing Principal Smith of your dismissal, You will be here after school for detention." Laughing, they all left.

"Mary, its' Kara, I'm sending the boys your way, again, I'm sorry," I sighed, slightly incensed. "It's just difficult when there are students, legitimately involved in my teachings, only to have others, disrupting their time in my class." Thanking me, apologetically, I went out about the day.

The next day, Tuesday, I expected more of the same, but Jamal, sat silently in the class. Periodically telling the other two, "Yo dawg, shut the fuck up," I didn't think much of it.

With the class ending and everyone having to report for an assembly after 1st period, everyone began leaving after the bell. Seeing the three talking, quietly, Marcus and Tyrell left. Seeing Jamal, not yet having left, I asked him why he wasn't heading to the assembly.

"Is there a reason for you still being here, Jamal?" my eyes narrowing and my arms folded.

Strolling up to my desk, he pointedly announced, "I know who you are."

"Questioningly, I said, " Oh? And where do you know me from."

With a serious look on his face, he chauvinistically quipped, "I'll make you a deal."

Quizzically, I smirked, "Deal? What are you talking about? You still haven't told me, just how, you 'know' me."

"I'll just say this. I bet I can get between those fine legs of yours by the end of the week." About to snap at him for his vulgar comments, he held his hand up. "And if I can't, I'll reel my boys in, and you won't have no more issues with any of us."

Anger setting in, at the abhorrent topic just brought up, I unmistakably uttered, "First off, your behavior, young man, is despicable, you are a very, vile person; Second, you will stop objectifying me, I am a woman, but I am also your teacher. There are laws in place that prevent this type of nonsense, you're spewing." The defiant tone, only intensifying, I I continued, "Thirdly, I am seeing someone, and even if I weren't, you will NEVER 'get between my legs', as you say; so I suggest you, either, stop your narcissistic, repulsive, repugnant, behavior, or I will have no choice, but to report this to the Principal."

Disgusted that I'm even having this conversation, I ended it but saying, "Go to the assembly, I have work to tend to." Pointing at the door, Jamal left with no further issue.

********

Tuesday, he tried again, to bring up the subject, but, pouring cold water on it, I immediately quashed any furtherance. Having no other recourse, I reported this to Principal Smith.

"Mary, I can't, in good faith, continue teaching this student," aware of my legal expectations in this manner. "I find it, beyond the pale, that ANYONE, let alone, this young man, that this type of behavior can continue to be allowed."

Listening intently, the Principal began to speak. "Look, I understand the dismay you may be feeling, but, unless you have proof of what you claim, I can only speak to him, to hear what he has to say. Adding, she continued, "Please understand Kara, I don't take accusations like this lightly, but there is only so much I can do on my end. Have Marcus and Tyrell been involved in these talks you claim to have had?"

Admitting their non involvement, Principal Smith promised me she would investigate my claims.

*************

The next day, Wednesday, the class discussion went well, there was no disruptions, which allowed for a good session. As the bell rang to end the class, everyone left. Seeing Jamal slowly walk up to my desk, I was preparing to wage in another discussion. Dropping an envelope on my desk he said, simply, "You fucked up."

Walking out, I tried to ignore it.

**************

After my 4th period ended, I pulled out my lunch I prepared. After taking it to the lounge to warm up, I returned to my classroom. Seeing the envelope, I opened it. Seeing pictures of Mark and me, I became curious.

"Is he following me around?" I said outloud

Finding a separate, smaller, envelope, I put it aside. Seeing each picture, it showed Mark and I holding hands, entering and leaving certain venues, even pulling up to my place of residence. Living in a 2 bedroom townhome, on the coast, overlooking the beach. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"Oh My God," I said, going through each picture. Reaching the last one, a small note was, strategically, placed on the back.

"I'm expecting you to want to talk about the bet I tried making you the other day. Look in the last envelope........ Victoria Rose...."

Dropping the note, panic set in, I admitted. " Oh my God, He knows."

***********

Slowly opening the smaller envelope, I pulled out a flash drive. With it, was another letter that said, "Read after watching," on the outside of it. Putting my earbuds in, I played the flash drive, what appeared in my screen, made my mouth drop.

"Victoria Rose, fucking 4 older men," Seeing the words "Motherless," I realized Jamal, knew of my past. Having done pornography when I was 21-22, the 2 giveaways were always my bangs, and my birthmark on the front of my forehead. Unmistakable, it showed a quarter sized red blotch mark. The second giveaway, I later found out, was when I bent over in class to pick something up, he saw a small tattoo on my left calf.

In despair, I fast forwarded through it. "Victoria Rose. D.P. action," was the next one on the queue.

Understanding what was happening, I could only say, "Oh my Gawd, no."

Knowing Newport High School, nor Mark, my boyfriend, could ever know about this, I realized I had a blackmail situation on my hands. But proving it was Jamal, was a task I needed to navigate, carefully.