Breakfast in the Dining Hall

You wake as the dawn light breaks through your window, coming instantly alert. With a glance outside at what looks to be a very pretty day you head for the bathroom.

Half an hour later you're showered, shaved, dressed and hungry. You decide to check out what the dining hall offers for breakfast and step out into the cool morning air. It's almost too clean here, you think to yourself. You're more used to the air of the city with the taste of grit in every breath, but you admit that you could get used to having the opportunities that this place offers.

Somewhat to your surprise the dining hall is empty of students or faculty when you arrive. Some workers are putting out covered chafing dishes on long tables against one wall. They are supervised by a stocky brown woman in kitchen whites, who looks up and smiles at your approach.

"Almost ready señor," she gestures. "I'm Luisa, the cook."

"Darnell Sharp," you smile. "It smells delicious."

"That's 'cause it is delicious," she grins. "Everything comes out of my kitchen is delicious, even the bland food."

"So that means there's no huevos rancheros under one of those covers?" you tease her.

"You like huevos rancheros? I'll fix you some. With chile morita salsa," she nods at the chafing dishes. "Help yourself to whatever else you like. I bring out the huevos in ten minutes. The faculty table is right up front there," she points as she strides back into her kitchen.

You help yourself to coffee, toast, a small bowl of fresh fruit and a few rashers of bacon, noting that the selection at the buffet would do credit to many upscale hotels. There's even an omelette station with a white smocked cook ready to make them on demand. Smiling once again at the money evident at the school you take a seat at the faculty table and sip your coffee.

A few students and teachers start to trail in, most of the girls dressed in their school uniform of white jacket, pink shirt and pleated plaid skirt. With their white knee socks and black shoes the pretty teens look like a pornographer's dream, and you smile to yourself again as you watch them chatter and fill their plates. You notice that more than a few glances are cast your way, and some girls giggle and whisper as they look at you. Obviously the advent of male teachers at the school has caused considerable excitement among the teens.

"May we join you?" a woman's voice interrupts your musing.

"Of course, welcome and good morning," you reply, looking up to see Ms. Considine the Math teacher, and Ms. McKay the imposing black woman who teaches Physics and Chemistry.

They're no sooner seated, placing their plates on the table than Luisa appears and places a steaming plate of huevos rancheros in front of you. "Enjoy, señor. Buenos Dias señoras."

"Luisa, you made this gringo huevos rancheros?" Ms. McKay says in pretended outrage. "Man ain't been here but two days and he's getting special treatment?" Luisa grins at the imposing teacher.

"You want a plate? I can fix it right up," she laughs. "Once you clean up what you already got," she nods to Ms. McKay's laden plate.

"You worse than my Momma," the black woman laughs, then reaches across the table and offers a hand to you. "Lorri McKay, we didn't really meet last night. And this is Donna Considine, well known warrior against tradition."

The other woman gives you a strong hand to shake, appraising you with a sharp glance. "Welcome to Pink Rose Mr. Sharp."

"Darnell. And thank you for the welcome, and for joining me. I detected that my gender is not the flavour of the month with some of the faculty." You glance down the table to where a few other teachers have taken seats at the far end.

"Nope," Lorri agrees. "But you likely to be the flavour of the day with some of the hormonal young wenches in this place. They all staring at you, having their little girl fantasies. Watch yourself son. You and the other roosters." She laughs heartily and digs into a mound of scrambled eggs.

"Crude, but not inaccurate," Donna says. "Some of the girls here can't wait to find trouble to get into. It's a function of too much money and too little responsibility. They lives lives without consequences for their actions."

"Maybe that will change with the new Dean," you say. "He sounds pretty serious."

"I hope so," Donna smiles. "It would do some of these brats a world of good if they had their precious little asses whacked."

"A few of them'll be linin' up for that paddle, once they get a look at the Dean," Lorri chuckles. "All of you men for that matter. None of you are hard on the eyes, and that coach....woooo...there's one pretty white boy."

"That's my assistant soccer coach you're speaking of," Donna Considine says archly, with a sardonic smile on her face.

"Makes me want to play," Lorri laughs. "Think I could fit into one of them skimpy little soccer outfits?" she asks you with grin, straightening up to show off her imposing bosom. You grin back at her, and see her chuckle with earthy humour.

Over her shoulder you see some new arrivals in the dining hall. Mr. Carter and Mr. Watts enter together, glancing around the room before making their way to the buffet. Behind them a group of girls arrives, looking much more subdued than the others in the room.

You suppress a smile as you see that among them, looking stressed and haggard as though she had spent a sleepless night, is Chanel.