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From: Ann Douglas <ann_douglas@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} AnnD"A Change In Perspective"MF(1/2)
Date: Tue, 12 Sep 2000 18:10:22 -0400
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A Change In Perspective
by Ann Douglas
(ann_douglas@hotmail.com)
Part One
Alan Yeager sat at the hotel bar nursing
his beer as most of the men around him watched
the ball game on the overhead television. The
twenty-six year old really had no interest in the
game, but had come to the bar with a few new
friends in order to be sociable.
The dark haired young man was a history
teacher from East Bedford. Five nine with a slim,
muscular build; this was his first time at the State
Teacher's Convention. It was an experience he
had enjoyed immensely.
The funny thing was, it was only because
of a unforeseeable series of events that he found
himself here at all. Normally, only the most senior
teacher at Dwight Eisenhower High got to attend
the annual convention. Roger Parks, who was
originally scheduled to go, had come down with
appendicitis the day before he was to leave.
Elizabeth Young, who was the runner up in
seniority had already left with her family for a
Disneyworld Vacation. After a frantic search by
the school administration, there seemed to be very
few people who hadn't already made plans for the
three-day holiday weekend. It finally came down
to Alan and Diane Yee, both of whom had started
on the same day. A toss of the coin decided the
issue, with Alan racing home to quickly pack a
bag to catch the eight o'clock shuttle flight.
The three-day event had been quite
interesting Alan had to say. Every school seemed
to have a different way of picking delegates to the
conference. Some went by seniority like his own
school. Others used it as a merit award. Some
even just held a raffle. Overall, the different
systems made for an interesting mix and a chance
to meet fellow educators from across the state and
sort of compare notes. There was also the
prospect of some really fine dining and the nightly
parties that made attendance so highly coveted.
Tonight was the last night of the conclave with
nearly a third of the participants having already
left for home.
Alan glanced down at his watch and
decided that five more minutes and he was out of
here. He really hadn't been that hungry when
most of the delegates had gone to dinner, but
he was starting to feel otherwise now. The hotel
dinning room was still open for another hour so he
should have no problem getting a table.
"Excuse me," a woman's voice said from
behind Alan, "but by any chance would you
happen to know the three major causes of the
Civil War?"
The question took Alan by surprise. Even
for a Teacher's Convention, that was a strange
thing for someone to ask. Not so strange,
however, that he didn't immediately know
the answer. Back in high school, he had written
his senior history paper on just that subject.
"That would've been..." he started to say
as he turned around on the barstool. "Oh my
God!" he suddenly said, cutting off his answer as
he saw who had asked the question.
The owner of the question stood just a
fraction of an inch shorter than Alan. She was
wearing a modest blue dress that enhanced rather
than concealed a still respectable figure.
"Hello Alan," the middle aged woman
standing behind him smiled.
"Mrs. Clarke," an excited Alan said,
unsure if he should hug the woman, shake her
hand or something else. "What are you doing
here?"
"Well, I am still a teacher," the white
haired woman smiled, "at least until the end of the
month."
"You're quitting?" he asked, the tone of
his question making it one of disbelief.
"Retiring actually," she smiled.
"No, you can't be retiring," Alan said,
"you're only..."
"Fifty-two years old last month," Mrs.
Clarke said, finishing his question for him.
"No," Alan replied, unable to believe that
she was that old.
"I was forty-four when I had you in my
honors class in history," she said. "And that was
eight years ago."
Alan took a hard look at his former
teacher. In his mind, Mrs. Clarke didn't look that
much older than she did on his last day of class.
There were a few more subtle lines in her face, but
that seemed to be all. Even back then, except for
her hair, she really hadn't looked her age. Her hair
had turned prematurely white in her mid-thirties.
Rather than dye it back to its original shade, she
had decided to keep it natural.
In fact, Alan remembered quite well a
discussion he and a number and his friends had
one night after they'd misappropriated two six
packs of beer from Jimmy Smith's garage cooler.
The discussion had started off familiarly enough, a
comparison of all the girls in school they knew.
Who was the best looking; who had the best tits,
which they most wanted to fuck, that sort of
thing. Eventually, and Alan never really decided if
it was the beer or they were all feeling a little bit
daring, the discussion had grown to include
teachers as well.
That aspect of their talk hadn't gone as far,
but it had been almost universally agreed that Mrs.
Clarke was the third best looking teacher in
school. For an older woman, a few of his friends
had quickly added. In Alan's case, he hadn't
needed to add that condition to his opinion. The
number one and two choices were all new
teachers in their early twenties.
"This wasn't a pop quiz, Alan," his former
teacher laughed. "You're not going to fail if you
don't remember the answer."
Alan realized that his face had become
flustered at the memory and was glad that she
took it to be because he hadn't remembered the
answer.
"Mrs. Clarke, I've totally forgotten my
manners," Alan said, changing the subject and
feeling like he was back in third period history.
"Please have a seat."
"First of all, I think you're a little old to
still be calling me Mrs. Clarke," she said. "My
name is Maureen as I'm sure you remember. We
are, after all, colleagues now."
It seemed strange to Alan to think of
himself and Mrs. Clarke, no make that Maureen,
as equals. Yet, that was exactly what they were.
He might have moved away after college and was
teaching in another town, but they were both
doing the same thing.
"Can I get you a drink," Alan asked, still
thinking it strange to be asking her a question like
that.
"It's tempting," she replied, "but I was
actually on my way for a late dinner. I'd gotten
involved in an interesting panel discussion and lost
all track of time."
"That's funny but I was just about to go in
to eat myself. I'd be honored if you joined me."
"That would be nice," Maureen smiled.
"It'll give us a chance to catch up."
As they ate, Alan quickly covered the eight
years since he'd sat in Maureen Clarke's class.
He'd gone, as she knew , to Fall River College on
a full academic scholarship. It had been largely
due to her recommendation to the scholarship
board that he had managed to go to college at all.
Alan was from a family that barely made ends
meet and money for higher education was not to
be found. It would be a terrible waste, she had
written to the board, to let a mind so perfectly
suited for teaching to lay fallow because of a lack
of funds. The condition of the grant he had been
awarded was that he spend at least ten years after
getting his degree in the public school sytem
somewhere in the state. It was a condition Alan
had been more than happy to agree to.
Maureen Clarke had spent the last decade
pretty much as she had the previous one, teaching
honors history at Alexander Hamilton High
School in Woodbridge. The only major change in
her life had been the death of her husband,
George, two years before. That was one of the
reasons she had decided to take the early
retirement that had been offered her. Her heart,
she said, was no longer really in it.
"My mom had mentioned that the last time
I was home for a visit," Alan offered. "I'm really
sorry. I only met him a few times but I remember
Mr. Clarke being a really nice guy."
"Thank you," Maureen said, then changed
the subject as not to dwell too much on her
greatly missed husband. "But what about you? Is
there a Mrs. Yeager, or someone in your life?"
"I'm afraid not," Alan replied, "at least
not right now. I did fall in love with someone in
college. Her name was Yvonne and I really
thought she was the one. But things didn't work
out and we wound up going our separate ways. I
date occasionally but there's no one really special.
I guess I get so wrapped up in the kids sometimes
that I forget to have much of a life."
"I can understand that," Maureen said,
thinking of all the unimaginable hours she had
devoted to her own kids.
"Sometimes, it is all worth it," Maureen
assured her younger counterpart. "Every once in a
while, there's one or two students who really
capture your heart. It means so much to watch
them strive to learn, and when they do, it gives
your life a validation that few people get to have."
She paused a moment then added, "That's
the feeling I got when I saw in the alumni notes
that you had gotten your teaching certificate. I
was so very proud when I read that."
"I think your class was the reason I first
thought about becoming a teacher," Alan
volunteered. "You made learning such an
adventure. I'm not sure I should mention this or
not, but I had such a crush on you as well."
Maureen smiled. She knew that many of
her students over the years had developed similar
infatuations. It wasn't something she would ever
admit to anyone but her husband, but she
sometimes got a secret thrill thinking that some of
those good looking young men might be jerking
off to a mental image of her.
"Well as I'm sure as you've learned by
now, teachers aren't supposed to even admit that
they might have a crush on one of their students,"
Maureen said. "But I'm sure you knew how
special I thought you were."
"I knew," Alan simply said. Then, thinking
about some of the quite improper thoughts he'd
had about a few of his own female students, Alan
wondered if Maureen had ever had such thoughts
about the boys in her classes. It wasn't exactly a
question he could just come out and ask.
By the time they finished dinner and had a
small dessert, Alan was very surprised at how
easily the flow of conversation had become. It no
longer felt awkward talking to Maureen about
anything. For the first time since they'd run into
each other in the bar, he actually felt that they
really were equals. It came as a surprise to the
younger teacher that he and Maureen had rooms
on the same floor. A surprise because it made it
seem even funnier that they hadn't run into each
other before tonight.
"Alan, would you like to stop by my room
for a nightcap?" Maureen asked as they stepped
off the elevator.
"Don't you have a roommate?" Alan
asked, knowing that most of the delegates, himself
included, shared a room.
"She went home this afternoon," Maureen
replied. "She came up by car and didn't want to
get caught up in all the post holiday traffic."
"A nightcap sounds fine then," Alan
finally answered.
Over drinks, they talked for what seemed
like the longest time. It seemed to the former
student that it was the first time in a long time that
his old teacher had opened up to anyone. Finally,
Alan took note of the late hour and suggested that
perhaps he should call it a night and let Maureen
get some sleep.
He had just started to get up when
Maureen motioned for him to wait. Uncertain,
Alan sat there in silence for a few moments.
"Alan," the fifty-two year old said, a
hesitation in her voice, "I was wondering if ... I
mean to say this isn't something I normally do.
But I was wondering if you wanted to spend the
night here ... with me?"
Alan was too stunned to say a word. A
silence Maureen quickly took to be a cold
disapproval of what she had suggested. "Alan, I'm
sorry," she quickly said. "I shouldn't have even
thought of such a thing. I hope you won't let a
moment's weakness change the way you
remember me."
Alan looked into the face of the woman
sitting across from him. He didn't see a woman
twice his age, or even his former teacher. All he
saw was a friend who once cared enough about
him to take the time and effort to change his life.
A friend who also a woman, a woman he still
found desirable.
"There is nothing, that you could ever say
or do, that would change the way I feel about
you," Alan said as he took her hand in his own.
"If you want me to stay, then of course I'll stay. If
you just want me to hold you, then that's fine. If
you want more than that, well that would be fine
too."
This time, Alan had no hesitation about
what he should do. Putting his arms around her,
he embraced his friend with all of the love he
carried for her in his heart.
Neither was really sure who made the first
move after that. All they knew was that they were
soon kissing each other. Their lips met with a
fiery passion, their tongues darting in and out of
the other's mouth. Even through layers of
clothing, Alan could feel the crush of Maureen's
breasts against his chest. He reached up and
cupped one of her mounds, producing a soft cry
of pleasure from Maureen as his fingers softly
squeezed her flesh.
Maureen in turn reached down and
pressed her own hand between Alan's legs. She
smiled as her fingers found him already hard.
Alan's reaction was no less than hers had been.
"Help me with my dress," Maureen said as
she stood up and turned around so that Alan could
reach her zipper. Alan pulled the zipper all the
way down and started to slide her dress off.
Maureen placed a hand on his and stopped him.
She stepped a few feet away and turned around.
It became obvious to Alan that she wanted to strip
for him.
Completing what the younger man had
started, the white haired woman slid her dress to
the floor, leaving her clad in bra, panties and
stockings. It was a source of pride to her that
despite a small weight gain in her later years, she
still never wore a girdle. No one was ever going
to ask her to pose for a magazine, but she was in
much better shape than most of her friends.
"Tell me the truth, Alan," she said as
reached behind and undid the clasp of her bra.
"When you were in my class, did you ever
think about something like this, I mean seeing me
without my clothes."
Knowing that it was exactly what she
wanted to hear right now, Alan told her of the
informal poll he and his friends once took.
He could tell she was impressed on where she had
ranked on the survey.
"If I had taken my own survey," she said
as her bra came off, "you would've been on the
top. I guess it can't hurt for me to say it now, but
more than a few times I thought of you when I
was in bed with my husband. Imagining that it
was you inside of me instead of him."
That answered Alan's earlier curiosity. He
wondered what was more frequent that year he'd
been in her class. The times she imagined her
husband was him, or the times he'd jerked off
imagining it was her mouth wrapped around his
cock instead of his fingers.
(missing parts may be found at)
Ann Douglas Web Page
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Ann_Douglas/www/
ASSTR Donation Page
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/donations.html
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