First day at school

"Good luck today babe!" Sarah chirped, pecking Logan on the cheek before hurrying out of the door. Logan mumbled in acknowledgment, shovelling cereal into his mouth before slipping into his overshirt and jumping in the car. He was a rough bundle of nerves- it was about to be his first day at the Dawson Dam Logging Grounds High School- or Dawson High as it was colloquially known.

For some reason, Logan reflected as he cruised down the wide roads of Dawson Dam, he was more nervous to teach a bunch of high schoolers that he'd felt before his first lesson as a college professor. Maybe it was because college students were inherently more closer to adults? He knew he would've hated to teach himself in high school.

He flicked his eyes to his phone as it buzzed twice. A message from Sarah, wishing him luck. Goddamn, he would need it.

Logan took a deep breath as he pulled into the school. It was a standard red brick American high- the only thing saving it from looking ancient were the sleek glass windows that reflected light into his eyes. Logan hopped out of the car, taking in the fresh morning air. It was an hour before school started, and no students were in. Logan smartened up, grabbed his briefcase and walked into the school.

The inside smelled aggressively nostalgic, furnishing varnish, fresh paint and mildew. The hallway was lined with blue lockers, the paint chipping off with regular intervals for classroom doors. Logan peeked at his schedule, trying to figure out where his room was.

"Oi! Are you a new teacher?" A voice called from behind him. Logan turned around to face and old man, hunched over a mop and peering at him through half-lidded eyes. A janitor.

"Yes. My name is Logan Jackson. And you might be?" He asked, keen to make a good first impression on everyone here.

"Name's Henry. Henry Hopkins. I'm the janitor 'ere. You'll want to go two doors up n' take the stairs. Turn left, it's the second door on yer right." The janitor grumbled, his voice hoarse from what Logan presumed was years of chainsmoking.

"Thanks a lot, Mr. Hopkins." Logan called back politely before following the route.

He hurried up the stairs following the route before standing in front of a room aptly labelled 'PRINCIPAL'. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked.

To nothing at all. Logan frowned, double checking the message he received to make sure he wasn't early- he wasn't. Right on the dot. He raised his hand to knock again, but stopped abruptly when he heard frantic whimpering from inside. He pressed his ear gingerly to the door, straining his ears to hear heavy panting from inside, coupled with a lot of whining.

"Uh, hello?" Logan called out. Suddenly, the animalistic sounds stopped.

"Who is it?" The voice called out, sounding quite out of breath.

"Uh... Logan? Logan Jackson? I'm a new teacher here?" Logan answered uncertainly. He heard the sounds of a chair being pulled out and shuffling, before the door opened.

"Mr. Jackson. Pleasure to see you again." The woman said, languidly holding a hand out.

"And you, Principal Fowler." Logan answered as he accepted the shake. To his surprise, her hand felt extremely... moist.

This was Beatrice Fowler, the principal of Dawson High and the woman who'd given Logan the job. Logan was struck by her from the moment she meant. Not only was she physically quite the specimen- almost an inch taller than Logan (impressive, considering Logan's height of 6'2) but he could never quite place where she was from. Her skin was predominantly fair, but hard the darkish complexion not unlike those found from Arabs and South Americans. She had a flowing black mane of hair, and her face beheld regal features. Yet her name was Beatrice, an eastern European name. Her accent betrayed no clues either, posh sounding, likely due to her Oxford education.

She was also physically impeccable. After speaking with her, Logan naturally decided to look at her instagram, to get a better idea of who he was working with. She seemed to by a gym rat, plenty of posts with her in a sports bra and yoga pants that showed off her spot-on abs and at times, her lean buttcheeks.

"Please, come in." Beatrice said, skiling before turning around. Logan moved to follow her, but suddenly he heard a thunk and looked down to see something below Beatrice's legs, on the floor.

"Uh... I think you dropped something..." Logan began, but Beatrice yelped and bent down to snatch it up, but it was too late... Logan already saw it. A bright pink buttplug. Oh... it all made sense now. The frantic panting, her moist hands...

"Sorry about that." She said smoothly, brushing the incident off as if nothing happened while Logan blushed.

"Well, I'm sure you've seen your schedule but here's a quick refresher. Dawson has four periods per day, interspersed with a break after first period and a lunch break. You will be teaching two History and three Economics classes, across sophmores, juniors and seniors." She shot out, all business. Logan, who was still recovering from his first interaction with the boss being her mastrubating woozily took his schedule.

"Additionally, you also mentioned basketball credentials. The coach of our girl's team has recently left us, and you said you were qualified to coach them?" Beatrice asked. Logan nodded.

"Very good. Practice is held three times a week, and the first one is today at four-thirty. That will be all, Mr. Jackson." She said, before turning back to her laptop. Realizing he'd been dismissed, Logan hurried out into the hallway, students already beginning to trickle in.

He glanced at his schedule- first class of the day was Econs with a Junior class. He hurried to the first floor, trying to figure out what room he was in.

"Why hello!" A voice behind him called. Logan whirled around and came to face with a woman- and my, god what a woman. All she wore was a long sleeved white shirt and high tucked black corduroy's but neither of those did anything to mask her immense curves. She was quite a bit shorter than Logan- 5'4 at best, which only served to accentuate her curves.

"Uh... hi?" Logan answered, unsure who she was.

"My name is Marisol! I'm a bio teacher, down the hall!" She exclaimed. Logan smiled, introducing himself.

"Logan, eh? Sexy name for a sexy guy like you!" She murmured, her eyes roving up and down his body, her hand trailing down his pecs.

"Err... do you know where room 304 is?" Logan asked, uncomfortable with the blatant flirting going on in the middle of the hallway. Marisol seemed to snap out of her trance, looking back up at him.

"Oh yes! Right there!" She said, pointing to a room down the hall. Logan hurried forward, before entering the room.

It was a nice room, spacious with the standard American desk setup, motivational posters and bookshelves dotting the walls.

"Hello! You must be Mr. Jackson!" A voice called out. Logan whirled around to see a woman bent over by a bookshelf straightening up with a warm smile.

"Y-yeah. Are you my assistant?" He asked, checking her out. When he learnt he'd have a teaching assistant, he'd expected some old woman a few years from reitrement, crabby and unhelpfu. Not this... an immaculately dressed caucasian woman, nor more than thirty years old, with sharp features, beautiful brown hair and a twinkle in her eye.

"That's right- I'm Ryleigh, Ryleigh Callaghan." She said, stirding forward to shake his hand. Logan obliged, before setting his stuff and his desk.

"I'll be hanging around class, clearing up doubts for students though if you need something printed, or if you need a coffee just call me!" Ryleigh said brightly. Logan nodded, his eyes focsued on her plump rear that strained against her shorts as she bent down to look for books.

This was gonna be a good year.