Tuesday Morning

Your classroom, start of third period.

Opening the bottle, you pour three aspirins into your palm. Popping them in your mouth, you then wash them down with a swig of coffee.

"Fuck, I'm getting too old for this shit," you announce to the empty classroom.

Not too old for fucking 18- and 19-year-old teens, you silently amend. But jumping over walls and tripping over garbage cans in the dark, definitely.

Smiling, you remembered Dallas frantically dashing around the house gathering clothes while you'd hopped out her bedroom window, something you hadn't done since 16 when Molly's dad...

She'd tossed you your clothes right as her parents were entering the house. Getting dressed, you hadn't realized you had everything but your phone until after you hopped the back fence into the pitch-black alleyway that ran behind her house.

Your shins were bruised from the four garbage cans you ran into in the dark before you made back to the street.

You glanced idly at your school email and saw one pop into your inbox.

Principal Smalley: interclass transfers

Groaning, the message brings you back to the clusterfuck that had awaited you this morning. 16 Students across your 5 classes were being shuffled. You could see the anger in Barbara this morning when she informed you initially that every football and wrestling team member was being jerked from your classroom.

He hadn't been in any of the photos you'd copied. But that didn't mean much. "Either he's a mega football fan or the biggest fossil ever to live," you murmur. Or he was part of Reese's circle, whom he was pimping out Dallas and her friends to.

"Fucking A," you swear upon scanning the contents of the email. To get everyone properly moved, it was actually more like 30 students instead of 16.

And you were to pick up the paperwork in the morning. Closing the email, you angrily exit out of the system and close your laptop. You finish the last of your coffee as you pull out papers to grade.

Looking at the assignment on top, you find yourself gritting your teeth. It was one of the football players. Of course it was.

Picking up your red felt pen, you went to work. It was petty and utterly unprofessional; over the next three minutes, you tore apart the young man's assignment.

After you finished, you stared at the entry in your grade book.

15% F

Your smile faded, and you felt bad... but not bad enough to change it to the B he should have gotten.

Lili and Krystal had mercilessly teased you when you got home. They'd already known, seeing Dallas had called, telling them that she had your phone.

Of course the beast had been angry with you after you banished both teens from your bed for the night. Reawakened cock or not, they needed to learn you mean it when you say "drop it." Of course you were disappointed this morning when Lili didn't show up to wash your back. But if there was one thing you've learned about your girls. Give them an inch and they'll take a mile if you let them.

You had just finished grading papers when the bell ending third period sounded.

Beep, Beep, Beep.

Putting away the papers, you sat at your desk as your students entered the classroom. The students were filing in and quickly taking their seats except for three... the football players. The trio seemed to be taking their time, and when they looked at you, they smirked like they were in on a joke. They were still standing and talking to each other when the bell sounded again.

"Take your seats, gentlemen; we don't have all day," you remarked.

As soon as their butts hit their seats, you opened your book and started calling the roll. Keeping one eye on them, you quickly called roll; no one was absent.

Putting it away, you launched into your lesson. You were just getting going when one of them, the young man you'd failed for hassling Rebecca, raised his hand.

"What is it?" You ask.

The young man taking his time looks right, then left, before asking. "Mr. C, can I go to the bathroom?"

Sighing, you see, his hair was still damp; he'd just come from P.E.

"Really... you didn't think to use the bathroom after getting out of the shower?"

His smile widened as he shrugged, saying, "Didn't think of it."

This had Andy Reese written all over it. Playing along for now, you say, "Very well, you may go."

You watch as he leisurely gets up, nods to his two friends, and leaves the room. No sooner had the door shut behind him than his friend raised his hand.

"Yo, Mr. C, I need to go too."

"So this is their game," you think to yourself.

You nod to the door, telling him, "You can go, but only when your friend gets back."

The young man who has been preparing to get up freezes as it dawns on him you said no.

"Man... my bladder is full to bursting, Teach. I need to go before I piss myself."

You looked at the young man in disbelief. He was lounging in his seat as if he had all the time in the world. I.e., this kid wasn't on the verge of peeing his pants.

"Well, I'm sorry; you'll just have to hold it till your friend returns to class."

The third of our heroic trio now chooses to give his two cents. "You should really let him go, sir. Coach Reese won't like it that you told him no."

Every student stared at you. Some with concern, others like Jennifer sported a tiny smile as if she found what was going to happen immensely entertaining.

Cocking your head, you flashed the young man a dangerous grin. "You didn't just threaten me now. Did you?"

Shaking his head, he hastily clarified. "Nah, Mr. C, I'd never threaten a teacher.

Standing up, you rounded your desk, remarking conversationally. "So you misspoke then?"

"Yes sir," he replied. "I misspoke."

You stroll over to the young man's desk and crouch down next to him, deciding to make a point.

"Whose classroom is this?" you ask in a low tone.

He looked a little puzzled as he replied, "Ummm, yours, Mr. C."

You smile. "Correct, Mr. Miller; it's mine. Now why should I give two shits about what Coach Reese wants in my classroom?"

"Be-be-because..." he stammered.

"Whaaaaaaatttttttt because he thinks he's the second coming of Jesus Christ?" you ask, interrupting him.

Mr. Miller shook his head and stammered, "I-I-I didn't..."

"What didn't think?" you ask, interrupting him again. You then leaned in close, whispering. "Listen, Billy, if you think I'm intimidated by a man so lacking in discipline he got arrested for propositioning a cop, you're sorely mistaken."

Backing away, you raised your voice, adding. "What's going to happen now is you." You glance over at his friend. "And you are going to shut your mouths till the end of class."

Reaching out, you pat the boy on the shoulder, promising. "And if you don't, I'm going to frogmarch both of you to Principal Smalley."

Standing back up, you walk back to the front of the classroom, explaining the whole way. "If there's one person in this school more offended by the shit he's shoveling than me, it's her. So please give me a reason to make you explain to her. Just why you thought threatening me with Andy Reese was a good idea."

You then turn to the rest of the classroom, saying, "Now that that's dealt with, why don't we talk about how fundamental change to the War for Independence is in the wake of Saratoga?"

Both players, wisely, shut up for the rest of class, and as you expected, the first player's 'need to go' lasted until 30 seconds before class ended.

Walking over to the door, you smiled as each student filed out. As Jennifer was getting up, you nodded to your desk. Without a word, she nodded her understanding and whispered something to Kat and Rebecca.

Both girls flashed you hopeful smiles as they left the classroom, even as Krystal whispered, "Love you, Uncle."

Joining her up front, the two of you waited till you were alone before she broke the silence, asking. "What's up?"

"We need to have a meeting at your place after practice." You inform her as you lean against your desk.

Jennifer smiled, murmuring, "Away from prying eyes and interested third parties, you mean..."

"Exactly," you confirm with a tiny nod.

"I'll let Conseula know," was her murmured reply.

You were about to send Jennifer off to lunch when she cocked her head, asking. "By the way, are you doing anything later this week... Daddy?"

The way her smile shifted to her sexy smirk as she emphasized, Daddy titillated your nerves.

"Other than Thursday's practice or Friday's game, I can't think of anything." You confirm after glancing at the calendar you had on the wall.

Jennifer's smile deepened as she purred. "Good, my sister Myra is going to be in town, and I'd like you to meet her."

"Hmmm," you think to yourself. Myra Marlow, Jennifer's eldest sibling at 21, if you're remembering right. They haven't seen each other since Myra left the state for college.

Seeing your expression, Jennifer broke out into rich laughter. Eyes twinkling after a moment, your teen lover says, "Don't worry, Daddy, I've got nothing nefarious up my sleeve, I assure you."

You returned her smile, not believing her for a second. Jennifer Marlow, head cheerleader, architect of your new lifestyle, and budding mafioso always had something cooking.

It's not that you didn't want to trust her. But as Reagen once told the Russians, "Trust but Verify." You'd be a fool to take anything the head of your 'harem' says at face value.

You see her off to lunch with a pleasant, "We'll talk after class," and lock up your classroom. Waltzing over to the teachers' lounge, you were eager to eat.

Opening the door, you entered the lounge, and your stomach instantly soured. Sitting at one of the tables were Andy Reese, Jeremy Lasko, and Sgt. Leonard.

You pointedly ignore the trio as you walk over to one of the three refrigerators to extract your lunch.

Lunch in hand, you close the door and walk over to the vending machine. You look at the selection on offer and decide on a Diet Coke today. Quickly, you insert your cash and hear the satisfying clunk as your beverage is dispensed.

Bending over to retrieve your soda, as out of your peripheral vision you see a pair of legs walk up behind you.

You sigh, thinking, "I don't have time for this fucker."

Standing up, you turn around, finding yourself face-to-face with Andy Reese.