Ms Connor, your former African American principal.

It was late in the night at the grocery store which you had been working as a bagboy for the past 2 years. It wasn't a glamorous job, but it affords you some extra money. The store is kind empty so your manager Mandy tells you to go outside and collect the shopping carts for the evening. You bring in a few carts towards the front, and then head to the back of the lot. You notice a newer sleek black Mercedes Benz pull into the parking lot near the front. You aren't that close but notice a shapely and classy looking African American woman exit. She's wearing dark leggings, and a loose glittery blouse. You get a little flutter of excitement as she walks into the store.

You finish up the carts, and walk into the store. Mandy your much older white manager directs you back to the bag area on the only check-out line open. You bag groceries for a bit, and then notice the African American woman from earlier pulling her shopping cart into the line. You steal a little glance and it only takes you a second to process that it's Ms. Connor, your former principal. You ignore her as you bag the few items of the gentleman in front of her, and wish him a good evening. Amy the cashier gives you an indifferent look then greets Ms Connor. Ms Connor smiles revealing her pearly white teeth and thick red lipstick, then she turns to you.

"Mr. John! It's a been a little while." She says smugly with her trademark sharp confidence.

"Hey Ms Connor." You say politely and begin bagging her stuff. Her dominate presence and classy beauty makes you blush, a little. There is an awkward silence, and you look up to see her placid grin focused on you.

"Could you help me take these to my car?" She asked, and your stomach sinks a little.

"Sure, I'd be glad too." You say instinctively and place them in the cart, and follow her sassy strut out to the parking lot. She slows her strut, her dark heels clicking on the ground and turns to you.

"You were such an undisciplined little brat, I kinda imagined you doing something like this." She demeans pointing at the store. You sigh, and bite your tongue. "Out of all the students I had, you probably got the paddle for the most ridiculous things." She teased, and held up her keys popping the trunk and it opened automatically. You push the cart nervously towards the car. "...and the only one I know of that actually liked it." She teased insidiously, bringing up a particular event of when you got an erection during one of her punishments.

"I was a bad kid. Do you want all of these in the back?" You try to change the subject.

"That'll be fine." She answered and stood as you bent over carefully loading the groceries.

You remembered being in her office for cursing at your teacher, and she you to put your nose in the corner for an hour. When she instructed you to place your hands on her desk for the paddle. She laughed at your bulge.

"You little pervert." Her thick voice called out as the paddle firmly slapped your ass.

Bending over and putting the bags in her trunk makes you get an erection again. You always had a thing for her strictness. You finish up and she obviously notices your excitement.

"Some things never change." She sneers, and you lean forward nervously trying to hide the lump.

"You have a great night." You say with a lump in your throat.

"Wait!" She sharply says, and pulls out her wallet. "I'm going to give you my phone number, and I want you to give me a call." Her voice is firm and you stand there awkwardly, as she pulls out a 5 dollar bill, and writes her number on a reciept.

"Why?" you say blankly a little off. She holds out the bill, and paper.

"I'm single now." She smiles, and you look in disbelief at her forwardness. "Don't play stupid." She says sternly as you accept them.

"Ok. uh, thank you." You offer, and she turns as you look at the paper.

"See you soon." She says soft and sweet at you.

Later that night you consider calling her, but get scared. You have a little fantasy about her and masturbate to relieve your frustrations.

A few days pass by and you get a weekend day off. You see Ms Connors number on your dresser, and decided to call it. The lines rings, and when you hear her stern voice you hang up. You freak out a little when her number calls your phone back. You let it ring, but forget that it has your name on the voicemail message. The tone for a new message chimes a few moments later, and you listen.

"John! Just who i wanted to talk to. Give me a call back, I won't hurt you." She chuckled, and you think about it a moment.