A friendly face (with cookies)

The next hour is spent with a bucket of soapy water and a dirty rag cleaning your suite. You refuse to think of Diana Naylor and her threat as she stormed out of your office; neither did you allow yourself to consider that brief moment when it felt like you were friends and not combatants. Instead you concentrated on wiping away over a dozen years of accumulated grime. By the time you were done, your shirt and tie were long discarded and your cotton t-shirt covered with wet spots and smears of grime.

A knock at your door startles you and you climb to your feet carefully before striding to the door. Standing outside your door is Monica Fulton, and you realize with a twist in your gut that you had been hoping to see Ms. Naylor outside your door not this pretty blonde. The young language teacher is now wearing short sleeveless sundress with flamboyant swaths of bright reds and yellows instead of the spandex jogging gear. The dress is cut low in the front showing off a fair amount of her full breasts and high on her thighs to show even more of her tanned legs.

"Hi again!" Her smile is as bright as her outfit, and although she tries to appear casual and relaxed, you can tell that her blonde wavy hair has been carefully brushed and her full lips have had a recent application of red lipstick. In her manicured hands is a small tin of cookies, but she makes no attempt to give them to you as she peeks over your shoulder into your office.

"I see you've been busy." Her hazel eyes taking in the rag in your hand, the damp T-shirt and bucket of soapy water by the bookshelf. "Why didn't you have the custodial staff take care of that?"

"My mom raised me to clean up myself and not expect someone else to do it for me." You explain with a shrug.

"Oh my!" Monica exclaims with a hint of a fake Southern drawl, "a good looking gentleman who cleans up after himself. How is it that your still single Mr. Hawkfeather?"

"Just lucky I guess." You joke and she chuckles softly in response. You'd have to be a blind man not to pick up on Monica's flirting, and after the intense sparring you went through with Ms. Naylor it was a relief to find someone easy to be with.

"How'd your tête à tête with Ms. Naylor go?" She asks like she can read your thoughts. "Did you charm her with your cute dimples, or was she as frigid as ever?" There is clearly not a lot of mutual respect between these two women an you can't help but wonder what Ms. 'we have a dress code here at the Pink Rose' Naylor would think of this look from one of her youngest and probably prettiest teachers.

"I thought I'd be neighborly and bring you some cookies." She brushes a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, clearly used to the effect that her good looks have on men, and not at all afraid to use it when she wants to. If Monica had really wanted to impress you she would have baked the cookies herself, these were clearly bought at the local convenience store, but hell, even store-bought cookies are better than nothing.

"I see you're making yourself at home." Monica peeks into the room behind you, "I've only been here a couple years, so I never got the chance to see the inside of Ms. Marshall's dreaded office." The young language teacher is clearly fishing for an invitation to come in, but you have nothing pressing to do and she did bring you cookies.

"Would you like to see what it looks like?" You ask and she happily follows you inside. She looks a little like a dancer as she walks gracefully around the room her short skirt swinging as she paces. Like the dancer, she knows she is being watched but pretends she's all alone on stage as she takes in the furnishings. When she finds the paddle where you left it on the bookshelf she stops to run her hand over its length before she turns back to where you've been watching her.

She licks her lips provocatively. "Word's already got out about you and the others. Although," she hesitates as she looks you over again, "I think most of the girls are expecting a scowling red-skin with face paint, not a dimpled California surfer-dude with perfect teeth." You simply shrug off the implied question; once a day is more than enough to have to explain your history. Miss Fulton doesn't seem to mind your lack of response and goes right on chattering.

"Don't get the idea these are a bunch of sweet little innocents, Kyle." She warns you as her hand returns to rest on the paddle. "This here is exactly what some of these spoiled bitches need, you'll see." You almost laugh when you hear Monica's assessment after the bruising conversation on the same topic with Ms. Naylor.

"Thanks for the heads up," you smile uneasily, not at all happy with the decision you made just over an hour ago. Both your father and grandpa believed in a good walloping when it was called for, and you'd received more than a few when you were younger; but these were different times and the pristine debutants that were enrolled in this school were not likely to respond well to the paddle. If only Ms. Naylor felt the same as this pretty flirt. The differences between the prim Ms. Naylor and the vivacious Miss Fulton are too many to list, but you wouldn't mind investigating these differences more fully while you were here this year.

Noting the sleekness of Monica's toned body and full breasts as she preens, you decide that this wouldn't be much of a hardship. You smile at her as you check her out, maybe this is just what you need to get Diana's slender body and fiery passion out of your system. She must know that her pretty young figure is attracting attention, but she continues her chatter without pause.

"Are you staying in one of the cottages?" Monica asks and then continues on without letting you correct her misinformation. "You're so lucky. I'm stuck in the faculty building." She nods her head indicating the general direction. "Only the senior female teachers have cottages, I guess they're too old to take advantage of the privacy like Alice, Christina and I would." She laughs throatily, looking at you with open interest.