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From: Foxbat <foxbat00@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Waking (Mf, weed, little sex) by Foxbat
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Date: Sun, 25 May 2008 06:10:03 -0400
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Waking (Mf, weed, little sex) by Foxbat


Disclaimer: This story contains graphic sex should not be
read if such stories are illegal in your state, or if you are a minor.

Please feel free to distribute this, on the condition that the
disclaimer and author's name remain intact and unaltered.

For previous parts, or other stories of mine, please check out
my website (thanks to ASSTR) at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/foxbat/www/ where
you can find all of my work as well as some recommendations.  All
the content is also available via ftp at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/foxbat/


Feedback, comments, suggestions, etc are always welcomed and
appreciated at foxbat00@gmail.com




Waking (Mf, weed, little sex) by Foxbat




I sat there, inappropriately reeking of weed.  It was inappropriate since I
was faculty at the school, sitting in the front row of the theater with all
my other colleagues 5 minutes into the school's annual Fall Play.  It was
even more inappropriate since I was 55 years old, and had recently
celebrated my 20th anniversary of "service to the school."  I reeked of weed
because 15 minutes earlier, I'd been hotboxing a van out in the parking lot
with half the cast.

I felt self-consciously like a character in a Wes Anderson film.  The score,
played by our orchestra, seemed only to enhance our own drama.  I watched
the faces of those seated closest to me, trying to discern which knew that
it was of weed I reeked, and of whose who knew, which knew from years of
practice smelling it on students and which knew from the occasional furtive
post-exam joint (procured from their niece's fiancee's younger brother).

Word spread slowly down the row, like a game of telephone.  I'd probably
died of an heroin overdose by the time it reached the aisle.

I heard a student two rows back giggle.  It was not in reaction to the play.

***

At the dinner for my 20th, I remember looking at the faces of the other
teachers around me.  Some younger, some older; a many junior, a few more
veteran.  They all looked tired and dry.  Their intellectual curiosity had
withered and calcified, they saw only unreformed lawlessness that required
discipline to remedy in students, never joy.  I had become one of these
people.  I had not wanted that to happen though.


And so I resolved to be young again.

***

"What game are you playing?"

"uh... I was just checking my email...."

Damn the little bugger was fast at hiding it.

"Cut the horse shit.  You're not getting demerits.  Tell me the name of the
goddamn game."

Tim's eyes went wide for a moment and he blinked twice. "Spaceship combat."

"Teach me how to play."

"Mr. Brennan.... uh.... seriously?"

***

I coughed into the cold November air, feeling the relaxed-but-heightened
nicotine mood come on, the smoke and my steaming breath indistinguishable.
I took another pull on the cigarette, and looked around the loading dock.  I
don't think I had ever been here before.

"You've never been here before."

I turned.  She had entered the school as a junior the previous year; I had
not taught her.

"I didn't know you smoked."

"I just started."

"Good for you."

She had black hair (from a bottle?) and wore too much dark eye makeup.  Her
black stretch skirt was tight across her hips, and her top distinguished the
bumpy texture of her ribs from the smoothness of her breasts when she
dragged on the cigarette I now saw she had.

She exhaled with sophistication.  Her nipples were hard because it was cold.

"My life sucks," I said.

"I heard about that whole wife thing.  Sorry."  She shrugged and considered
for a moment - "this will make it better."  She offered her cigarette.  I
looked to my own.  She offered hers again.  I took it.

"It's a better brand," she explained.  It's half marijuana, I thought.  I
had caught enough glassy-eyed kids on my corridor over 20 years to know.
But I had never smoked any (or even felt tempted).

We passed her re-rolled cigarette back and forth until it was gone.

"This is kinda cool."

"Yeah..."  She paused.  "First time for that, huh?  Good for you."


***


"Turn the volume down, at least."

The sound of the porno had ceased about 10 seconds earlier, when I had
knocked on the door.

Jack, a prefect, had answered the door, but I saw three eighth-graders in
the room.  I turned to leave.

"Uh... Sorry sir.  I clicked on an ad by accident."

I had turned to leave, but turned back.

"Don't bullshit me anymore, Jack."

"Sorry sir.  Do you want to confiscate it?"

He must have gotten a few demerits earlier in the week and thought my
writing this up would put him over the top.

"No, Jack, I don't want to confiscate it.  But I do want you to make me a
copy."

Jack was smooth enough not to say anything about my wife, but it was all
over his face.

"No problem, sir."

***

Fifth period on Thursdays at the loading dock became a regular thing.
Helena (that was her name) provided.

She wanted to go to Vassar for college.  Their Dean of Admissions was an old
Princeton classmate of mine.  I had sent him Christmas cards during the
entire 21 years since I had last seen him.  I scraweled across the bottom of
this year's card "Admit Helena - she's good."  Yesterday they had, in spite
of her D+ in Calculus.

She did her sophisticated exhale.  "Do you have any other friends?"

"Do *you* have any other friends?" I asked back.

She took another drag.  "Are you in love with me?"

"Are *you* in love with me?" I asked back.

She did her sophisticated exhale.  "Are you repeating everything I say?"

"Let's fuck."

We did.

The next morning, I went to the gym for the first time since I was 26.

***

"Mr. Brennan?"

"Yes.  Tim.  What's up?"  His grade in my class had risen from a C+ to a B+
over the last few months.  Not because I favored him in grading (Helena
graded the 8th grade essays; I did her calculus homework).  Rather, I think
it was because he had started to care about history.  And that was because I
had started to care about computer gaming with him and his crew.

"Mr. Brennan - we're going to a LAN party this weekend - we were wondering
if you wanted to come and be in our clan."

"A LAN party?"

"Yeah - you know, where lots of people get together and play against each
other."

"Oh."  Jack was going to hook me up with some more porn on Friday night, but
that could wait.  "Sure."

"Awesome, Mr. Brennan.  W're totally going to kick ass!"

"See you Friday night, Tim."

***

My finger tips ran upwards, along the inside of her thigh.  I felt the
goosebumps from the winter air.  Her hot breath was warm against my neck,
and sounded close in my ear.  She wore no panties.  She had shaved.  Her
skin was cool and dry on the outside, but hot and lubricated inside.

We kissed tentatively, like teenagers, more lips than tongue.  Using only
the tip of one finger, I traced slow circles.  She moaned into our kiss as
she orgasmed.

***

"Hey - Mr. B - "

"Don't call me Mr. B, Jack.  Brennan is not hard to pronounce, and I don't
teach kindergarten."

"Sorry, sir."

"Don't...  nevermind.  What do you want, Jack?"

"Sir, I was wondering if you could help me do my chemistry homework."

"Don't you have a chem teacher for that?"

"Well, sir - I, uh... I know you help Helena with her math."

"That's different."

"How is that different, sir?

"It's different, Jack, because I have sex with her.  Jack, that's why it's
different."

***

Helena and I were in her dorm room.  We had just finished having sex, and
she was lying on top of me in the ultra narrow dorm room bed.  They were so
narrow for the exact reason of discouraging such lounging.  I think I had
been the one who chose them 5 years ago.  We were naked.  Usually, we stayed
at my apartment, but she had wanted to try it in her own room.

"Are you coming back next year?"  She asked.

"No."

I had not thought about this.  But I couldn't - she was right.

"You should go to grad school."

I had gotten a masters, and that experience had been what convinced me to
teach at the high school level.  Less stuffy.

"Actually, you should become a doctor."

I hate sick people.  I don't even like helping people all that much anymore.

"Then law school it is."

And so I applied.

***

"Yes, Mr. Brennan?"

"Jack.  I need a favor."

"No problem, B.  I just finished downloading Dirt Pipe Milkshakes 4.  You'll
love it, especially -"

"I need you to write a recommendation for me, Jack."

"A recommendation?"

"Yes.  For law school."

"Did they fire you, sir?"

"Not yet, Jack."

"Sure I'll write it."

"Keep it honest.  Don't overdo it.  It's due by February 1st."

"I know, sir."

"Oh, and Jack.  Let's keep this on the DL."

"Right between Helena and the porn.  No worries, sir."

***

I got the letter at 10:00am in the morning.

Helena and I went to lunch.

And then we fucked in her car, out in the parking lot outside the
restaurant.  But then she had to get back for 7th period.  Before leaving,
she slipped me a re-rolled blunt.

***

Two of my shirt buttons had been lost in the car, and white stain from our
joint activity stained my pants.

I sat in my office, my feet up on the desk, and lit up.

***

One minute and four seconds later, Bill, our headmaster, was standing in the
doorway.

"Jesus Christ, man.  You need help."

"No.  Well, I suppose I did.  But I'm good now.  Would you like some?"

"Jesus no."

Close to thirty years of being on the faculty had leeched away any stronger
words his vocabulary once might have contained.

"Look.  Todd.  You know I could never fire you.  But get yourself together.
Grow up - your wife's not coming back."

"Oh, I know.  You'd be amazed what sleeping with an 18 year old does to get
you over that.  But Bill - I'm not coming back next year."

He stared at me.  Never once, in my entire career, had I seen him short for
words.

"Bill.  I'm going to Harvard Law in the fall.  I'm graduating."

He just stared.  "But how...."

"I had kids write my recs.  Maybe admissions liked that.  Who knows."  I
tossed the letter across the desk.

"Bill.  Get the fuck out of my office now.  You're ruining my buzz."
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