Jan. Week 3: Mr. Baker and the Cougar Den

The day mercilessly dragged on, each tick of the clock like a metronome underscoring her simmering dread. Even when she finally reached her planning period—a time that should be a sweet reprieve—dread shrouded it like an ominous shadow. Every minute felt like an eternity, a slow grind toward what she knew would be an unpleasant inevitability. Her mind flitted back and forth between her obligations and the looming specter that was Mr. Baker's request.

As the final bell reverberated through the hallways, its chime seemed to toll for her doom, resonating with a cruel inevitability of what awaited at the end of her day. With resignation settling over her like a shroud, Leah gathered her things and began the dismal march to Mr. Baker's domain—his classroom-turned-studio, where illicit fantasies were spun into degrading realities.

Upon entering his sanctum, his eyes lit up with a gleam that sent shivers cascading down Leah's spine. Mr. Baker was visibly pleased to see her, anticipation oozing from every pore as he welcomed her into his layer of secrecy and whispered desires. "Ah, there you are!" he exclaimed with that all-too-familiar grin, one that concealed intentions laced with perversion beneath a veneer of schoolhouse charm.

He riffled through a crumpled bag at the side of his desk and began presenting costumes with exaggerated flair—phantasms from the realm of fantasy rendered gaudy by their context. He hefted out a shimmering turquoise gown embellished with glitter—an Elsa costume from Disney’s Frozen, complete with an ostentatious blonde wig.

“Is that from Frozen?” Leah asked rolling her eyes.

“Well yeah but who cares? Let it go—am I right?” he laughed.

Then came another ensemble: the unmistakably regalia of Daenerys Targaryen from Game of Thrones, counterparted by yet another cascading blonde wig. It took Leah a moment to identify it and Mr. Baker cleared any doubt from her mind.

“Annnnnd here is one that is supposed to be the mother of dragons, Daenerys stormborn.” He held it up high, pleased with his costume selections.

“Mother of dragons? Oh! Game of Thrones. Really?” Leah shot him a look that was both judging and spiteful.

“Look—fantasy costumes are fantasy costumes. Theater folks and us can use them for all kinds of things. I thought that if you taught history you could appreciate the medieval flair or whatever.” He smiled as he held the two costumes up.

“You really are messed up you know that?” Leah said with a sigh.

“Always wondered what you might look like as a blonde.” he said ignoring her comment.

“Yeah, never dying this hair any time soon.” Leah huffed as she crossed her arms. She looked at Mr. Baker, then at each costume.

“So?” Mr. Baker raised an expectant eyebrow “Which one do you wanna go with this time?”