Amy looked down at her fingers coated with the chalk dust and sighed to herself. Just one more day to the weekend. She had the parent teacher conference looming ahead of her, though. She would have to call on all her patience and tact as parent after parent entered her classroom to discuss a child’s performance. It would be a long night.
She brushed her shoulder length auburn hair to the side as she reached for the eraser. As she removed the day’s lessons from the board she remembered that it was always fascinating to see who showed up. She imagined the people responsible for the kids she must teach each day. And, what do these parents think of her? Some of the fathers would flirt with her. She was used to it. At 27, with a slender figure, long legs, and big blue eyes she drew her share of attention. It was flattering as long as it remained tacit flirting and no more.
In the washroom she carefully put on some light lipstick and brushed her hair. She looked at her white, buttoned-up blouse, long skirt, and sensible flats. A conservative look. Each morning, when dressing, she always paused in front of her mirror and asked herself, “do I look like a teacher?” She remembered those from her own education. Old, they seemed old and distant and, in many cases, sexless. What did they do when away from school? Surely some had lives that none of us kids could imagine. She knows she does and smiled to herself.
Weekends were not spent in the library or leading a Brownie troop or girls’ softball team. No, she would go out with her friends and dance, party, hell, just get crazy. She was careful to go to the city to do that, not wanting to run into a fellow teacher or administrator while out. There was a clear line between work and play in her life.
She looked at her watch. An hour until the first meeting. Grabbing her purse, she headed to the empty teacher lounge and then out the adjacent exit. Looking around, making sure the children were not in the nearby parking lot, she ducked down a stairwell. She took out a pack of Virginia Slims 120s and placed the long white cigarette in her lips. Lighting it and then exhaling gently through her pink lips. Ahh, she had wanted to do that all day. She rarely smoked in front of other teachers and never in front of students. She liked the reputation she had as quiet, reserved, and serious. She was afraid her smoking habit might reveal a different self to others at the school. As she looked at the long, slim, burning cigarette in her manicured nails she had to admit it was a decidedly sexy look and not quite compatible with the image she presented during the workday.
She took one last drag on her cigarette, exhaling the white smoke into the air and watching it carried away by the wind. Carefully she ground it out in a nearby receptacle noticing the trace of her lipstick on the filter.
Back in the school she prepared for her first meeting. The father of Danny Williams was scheduled first. It might not be pleasant as Danny was one of the most disruptive students and his more recent report card reflected it – unsatisfactory marks across the board. She heard a knock at the door. Opening it, she greeted a short, broad man with salon-tanned face. His haired slicked back and wearing a polyester suit he looked like the prototypical car salesman.
“Yes, Ms. Goodman, right? I got the right room? Len Williams. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Williams.”
Amy extended her hand to him and he grasped it firmly as his eyes scanned her from top to bottom and back up again. Geez, could he be more obvious, she thought to herself.
“Please, call me Len.”
“Okay, um, Len, please have a seat.”
Sitting across from one another, Amy brought out her notes and Danny’s recent report card. Carefully, she went through Danny’s performance, or lack thereof, and detailed some of the problems he was having. Amazingly, Williams was hardly paying attention, instead fixating his eyes on her body. Is this asshole going to take me seriously?
“So, you see, Mr. Williams, I mean Len, there really is cause for concern here.”
“Well, Ms. Goodman I ..say, what is your first name?”
“Well, Amy you know how boys are at this age – hell, the kids got spirit. He’s a charmer – takes after his old man! He He.”
Amy groaned inwardly.
“I’m sure he’ll grow out of whatever you think the problem is,” he said. “But, if you want I’ll try to reign him in. You know he’s gotta learn how to behave around a pretty woman.”
He winked. Did he really do that?
He moved his chair closer.
“If I had known he had such an attractive teacher I would have gotten to the kid a while ago. Must be tough teaching these kids. What do you do for fun?”
“Mr. Williams, I’d like to keep the conversation on Danny.”
“Len, please! Sure, sure, but look, a young lady like yourself has gotta live a little. We should, you know, meet for a drink sometime.”
Amy looked at the ring on his finger.
She glanced up at the clock and then her watch.
“My goodness, we are running late. Mr. Williams, err Len, I’m afraid I have to prepare for my next meeting, but I want to thank you for taking the time to come here today.”
He put on a shit-eating grin.
“Ahh, you are a tough one…okay. Sure, well, thank you Amy. Your boyfriend or husband must be a lucky man..he he.”
She stood up and extended her hand.
“Well, he is and thank you for coming in.”
He reached to grab her hand and while clasping it, Amy felt him press something into it.
After he left the classroom, Amy looked into her palm. “Len Williams, Williams Used Cars,” read the card.
Amy couldn’t help but laugh. God, if this keeps up I’ll never make it through the evening! The lie helped. There was no husband, or boyfriend. She broke up with her beau six months ago. She never kept them long. It was like shopping with her. She enjoyed picking them out, wearing them for a while, then moving on. Nothing stuck. Ugh, am I that bad? Anonymous encounters while out clubbing with friends didn’t seem fulfilling. An empty exercise. Still, it would be a cold day in hell before she responded to propositions of her students’ fathers. To the school, she would be happy if everyone here thought she was a nun.
Unfortunately, the rest of the meetings were only slightly better as stressed out, working mothers and fathers came in, one after another, ready to excuse, defend and argue. She put down her pen and yawned. Only one more and she could get out of here. She looked down at her planner. The mother of Lisa Hanson was next. Lisa was new to her class and quiet, but a strong student. Good, this would be easy.
The sound of heels clicking on the floor signaled the arrival of the next parent. These, based on the sound, must have been stilettos, Amy thought.
Amy looked up. A striking, slim brunette woman in her late thirties was standing in her door. Amy fixed her eyes on her. She wore what looked to be a highly tailored, designer leather blazer, and a black wool, or silk, knee length pencil skirt with a slit up the side, and tall leather boots that hugged her calves, with a pointy toe and at least 4.5 heels. They came up to just under her kneecap. Amy had seen a pair when in the city at Prada. God, Amy thought, those must be like $800 boots. Something stirred inside her at the sight of this woman. Where that something came from, she wasn’t sure.
Amy rose to greet her.
“Yes, and you must be Ms. Goodman, or is it Mrs.?”
She smiled, revealing her perfect white teeth, a deep burgundy lipstick outlining her mouth. Her hand extended and Amy took notice of the tight, black leather gloves she was wearing. Amy grasped the hand gently, feeling her own palms slide along the very smooth leather. She felt herself become aroused. Oh my god, what is happening to me?
Amy smiled back, trying not to show how unnerved she was.
“Um, no just Ms. Please, umm, have a seat.”
Amy noticed Mrs. Hanson’s skirt slit opened slightly as she seated herself in the chair next to hers, rather than across. A glimpse of black garter straps against milky white skin caught her eye.
Why did she sit next to me? Did I indicate the chair?
The smell of her leather jacket and expensive perfume filled the air around them.
Amy tried to concentrate. The older woman leaned towards the report card Amy had placed in front of her. Amy thought she could almost smell the shampoo scent from her hair.
“Umm, well, you can see from the recent report that Lisa is doing well in class and in many ways is a model student. I suppose she could speak up a bit more, she is quiet, but as a new student that will change in time.”
“Oh, Lisa is a bit shy. I’ve always been on her to seek out others more – make new friends. She hardly takes after me in this regard. I suppose my job hasn’t helped. You see I tend to travel a bit, and have had to move my family a couple of times for work.”
“Oh,” Lisa touched her own hair reflexively, “What do you do?”
“I’m a director at an investment bank. It’s an awfully time-consuming job. Guilt, I suppose, brought me to this meeting. I need to get more involved in Lisa’s life.”
“And Lisa’s father. Does he take more of an active role?”
Mrs. Hanson laughed.
“Ted, oh no, he just sends checks. He is living in Europe trying to produce movies. We divorced when Lisa was three. I’m afraid there hasn’t been much of a male presence in Lisa’s life of late.”
She paused after saying this and looked directly at Amy. Amy’s heart beat a little faster.
“Well, uh, Mrs. Hanson, do you have any questions for me?”
Amy felt the older woman gently knock her leather boot against her leg. Again, something moved inside her. Her nipples hardened. What is happening to me?
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was just kicking my feet out to stretch.” She placed her hand on Amy’s arm. “Did I hurt you?”
“Oh, no, not at all, umm, those are gorgeous boots. I’m sorry I can’t help but stare at them. Are they Prada?”
Mrs. Hanson smiled, extending her leg out from her skirt, revealing the entire boot.
“Why, yes, they are. They are actually comfortable, too. Of course, I love high heels.
She glanced at Amy’s shoes.
“You should wear some. Those flats don’t do justice to your legs.”
Amy gulped. Where was this going?
“Oh, well, yes, I mean at work I need to dress this way. But, you know, when I go out I wear other stuff….”
Mrs. Hanson raised an eyebrow and grinned.
“Oh, really? Well, these boots are so lovely. Why don’t you touch the leather?”
Her eyes were burning into Amy’s. Almost without a will of her own, Amy found her hand moving towards this woman’s leg and placing it on the smooth leather of her boot shafts. God, it is so smooth and soft. Amy didn’t even realize she was moving her hand back and forth when Mrs. Hanson placed her hand on top of Amy’s on the boot.
Amy pulled out of her reverie and took her hand off the boot.
“Oh god. I’m sorry, what’s come over me. Excuse me.”
Mrs. Hanson put her hand on her shoulder.
“Relax. I’m flattered.”
“What?” said Amy.
The brunette woman smiled again.
“That you find me attractive. That my boots turn you on.”
Amy blushed crimson.
“Umm, I..” but she couldn’t continue. Her nipples were painfully hard and the scent of this woman’s leather was intoxicating her.
The woman moved closer to Amy and put her soft, leather covered hand against Amy’s cheek. Amy pressed her cheek into the leather and moaned.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Hanson. “Just as I thought. You have a leather fetish, don’t you?”
“I. Umm. I no, I never…I mean….”
“Shssh.” She placed her other gloved hand over Amy’s lips. “You don’t have to explain dear.”
Amy continued turned and started to lick the black leather glove. Moaning.
The woman lifted Amy’s chin and placed her lips upon Amy’s.
There, beneath the glow of the fluorescent lamps, in the middle of her classroom Amy was kissing the mother of one of her students. She had never done this before and had only kissed her best friend while dancing once. They were drunk. But something was coming alive with this woman. Her style, her leather, her beauty.
She tasted the lipstick of the woman and felt her tongue dart in her mouth. So incredibly soft. They kissed as if whispering secrets to one another. Slowly, sensually, tenderly. Amy now became aware that she had been rubbing her own legs against the boots shafts of Mrs. Hanson.
The soft, smooth leather of the tall boots filled Amy with lust. Slowly, she stood up and walked to the door. After a quick look into the hallway she closed the door and locked it.
She turned and here eyes locked on Mrs. Hanson’s. Without exchanging a word, Amy fell to her knees and placed her lipsticked lips on the boots. Kissing and licking the leather. The aroma filled her nostrils. Her pussy lips swelled and her wetness dripped down her thighs. She opened her mouth and, understanding what she needed, Mrs. Hanson pushed the long, pointy toe of the boot into Amy’s mouth. Back and forth. The older woman fixed her eyes on the young teacher. Soon the leather was coated with Amy’s saliva. She licked up the shafts. Her tongue tracing up the seam on the boot and finding the tops of the shaft. Mrs. Hanson reached down and clasped Amy’s hands in her long nailed fingers as she licked.
“Enough for here dear. Why don’t you come home with me?”
Amy looked up at the older woman. She felt as if in a dream.
She stood up and the two women placed their warms about one another as they shared another deep, wet kiss. Amy sucked the tongue of her new lover into her mouth. So soft, so lovely. Am I gay?
Thoughts swirled in her head. She never felt so good, so alive.