by Alana Church
Beside her, Stacie snorted, Tabby's mood being contagious, despite her fears. Unwillingly, she began to chuckle, and then laugh out loud. In moments, the pent-up stress of the evening had found its release, and the girls had both slumped to the driveway, helplessly shaking with laughter.
Wiping tears away from her eyes, Stacie saw the feet and legs of Tabby's mother in front of her.
“Well,” came Loretta Harrington's warm, indulgent voice from above. “It sounds like you girls had a good time tonight. Stacie,” she continued, “your mother just called. You need to go home for dinner.”
“All right,” Stacie said, a grin still playing at the corners of her mouth. She rose to her feet with Tabby and gave her a good-bye kiss, aware of Loretta's approving presence beside her. Waving, she walked down the sidewalk and turned the corner towards her own house.
“I'm happy for you,” Loretta said to her only daughter. “Your dad and I both. You know that, don't you, honey?”
“Yes, Mom. I do,” Tabby replied. “I just wish we had more time for ourselves.”
“Well, you'll get your wish tomorrow,” her mother said. “Your dad and I will be gone most of the day. We're going to the movies, and then we're going out to eat. And your brother is going camping tomorrow night with Doyle Brannigan and his folks. So you two will have the entire afternoon and most of the evening to yourselves. Try not to break the bed.”
“Mom!” Tabby protested, her face flaming. “We're not like that!”
“Really? I'm disappointed. Your dad and I certainly were when we were your age.”
“Ewwww,” Tabby laughed. “Stop it! I don't want to hear about it! I'm going inside.” Covering her ears, she dashed for the house, her chuckling mother only steps behind her.
*****
Alan woke up the next morning and immediately wished he hadn't. The late-morning sunlight streaming through the window in his bedroom hit his gummy, bloodshot eyes like a celestial hammer, and he made a pathetic, whimpering sound as he turned over and tried to hide his face from the terrible, terrible sunshine.
You have to get up sometime, an amused voice in his head noted cheerfully.
“Go away,” he groaned, burrowing deeper into his blankets. Good God, his stomach felt terrible. And his head. What had he done last night?
Oh. Oh, sweet Jesus. His traitorous memory threw up the vision which had greeted him when he opened the door to the teacher's lounge the night before, of two lovely women pleasuring each other.
After that, his recollection grew cloudy. He vaguely recalled picking up a carton of suspiciously cheap Chinese take-out on his way home, and stopping by the conveniently close liquor store for more beer as well. From the roiling in his guts, he thought both the take-out and the beer had made a too-swift trip into his stomach.
God help him, he hoped the fragmented memories of the rest of the night were wrong. He didn't relish the thought of trying to convince Amazon that he hadn't meant to buy all of Michael Bay's movies while he was in a drunken stupor. Groaning, he sat up and put his head in his hands, grateful that the motion didn't cause him to lose whatever was left in his stomach all over the floor of his bedroom.
A shower, he decided. A long, hot shower, and a run. Try to sweat some of this crap out of your system. Then you can grade the papers you should have taken care of yesterday, and decide how you are going to face Tabitha and Stacie on Monday.
*****
Thirty minutes later, showered, dressed, with aspirin and cold water having dulled the edge of his hangover, he set out on his morning run. He was dressed in shorts, running shoes, and an old, ragged t-shirt. Not bothering to warm up, he hit the sidewalk at a slow, steady pace, one which he could ramp up as the turmoil in his belly receded.
As he made his way though the cool Saturday morning, his mood slowly improved. In time with his pounding feet, his thoughts turned to the cataclysmic shock he had received the previous night.
God, I'm an idiot, he thought. The least I could have done was let the girls know they weren't in any trouble. In his mind's eye he could still see the terrified looks in their faces when he had burst into the lounge like some sort of madman. And then he didn't even have the courtesy to apologize! Granted, they shouldn't have been in school after hours, and they certainly should have chosen a better place to make love, but he could remember what it felt like to be their age. Young, horny, in love, or at least so close to it that it made no difference. And he had treated them as if they had committed some sort of crime!
He shook his head and made a turn onto a leafy, tree-lined street. Arching branches overhead rustled in the late-October breeze, and his feet thumped softly as he made his way through drifts of fallen leaves. Their musty smell rose around him, and he was so caught up in his own thoughts he barely noticed the car pull into the driveway a few houses ahead of him.
But when Stacie Reynolds climbed out of the passenger seat and hugged Tabby Harrington, who had sprinted off the porch and into her girlfriend's embrace, it was a little hard to ignore. He tried to keep his gaze resolutely forward as he passed Tabby's house, but when they called and waved to him he had little choice but to return their greeting. Waving awkwardly, he sped up, not trusting himself to stop, completely unaware of their hot, greedy gazes lingering on his legs and back as he jogged out of sight.
*****
“Who was that?” Loretta asked her daughter as she and her husband joined the girls outside. Stacie's mom had already left on errands of her own.
“Our history teacher,” Tabitha said.
“And our volleyball coach, now that old Mr. Walton has quit,” put in Stacie.
“Mmmm,” Loretta said, eyes following the lithe figure as he continued down the street. “Very nice. I can see why you two have been lusting after him the last month or so.” At her side, her husband chuckled.
“Mom!” said Tabby, horrified.
“What? Do you think your dad and I don't have ears? The two of you have been giggling about Mr. Glassman for weeks. Just make sure,” she continued, her voice serious, “that giggling is all that happens. We don't need to tell you how dangerous it is for students to get involved with their teachers, do we?”
“No, Mom,” Tabby said obediently, and Stacie echoed her.
“Good.” She smiled at her daughter and her girlfriend. “We'll be back home late. We trust you, so don't do anything silly. No boys. Or girls,” she said, with an amused twinkle in her eye. “Call us if there's any problems.”
“Let's go, woman,” growled her husband. He gave her rear a quick slap as he walked past her towards the car.
“Oh, baby,” her teasing voice followed him. “You know what I like.” After giving the girls a quick hug, she joined him in their sedan.
“Did you really think he was hot?” Robert Harrington asked his wife as they pulled out of the driveway.
Loretta shrugged. “Cute enough, in a just-out-of-college sort of way. But don't worry,” she continued with a seductive smirk. “I like my meat a little more aged.” She ran a loving hand up the inside of her husband's thigh, lips curling as he jumped. “You know,” she continued, “I think we can trust the girls alone, if you want to make a night of it. What do you say, honey? Movie, dinner, a drink at a night club, then a nice long orgy at a hotel to finish the night? Just the two of us, with no kids?”
“Woman, you just made a deal.”
*****
After getting back from his run, Alan took a shower, then graded the quizzes for his civics class. Trying to distract himself, he then set up his classroom plans for the next week. Turning on the TV, he tried to immerse himself in sports, but for once the pleasures of college football were lost on him.
He sighed, pacing the small living room, then flopped back down on the second-hand couch. I need to get this over with, he decided. I need to let the girls know they aren't in trouble and don't need to worry about me coming down on them. Theoretically, he knew there should be some s
ort of disciplinary action for the girls, but he couldn't imagine telling Lavender Tipton how he had caught the two of them making love in school.
He frowned at the contact list he had been provided. He had e-mail addresses and cell phone numbers for all the girls on the team, as well as contact information for their parents. He shook his head. He wasn't going to send the two of them an e-mail, as impersonal as a thrown knife. He knew where they were.
His guts knotted as he changed his clothes, trying for a professional look. He didn't look forward to convincing Tabby's parents he needed to talk with the girls privately.
Christ, what a mess. Just get it over with.
At the last second, he decided against driving. The last thing he needed was for someone to drive past the Harringtons' house and see his car there. He knew as well as anyone how easy it was for rumors to get started.
Trying to whistle cheerfully, he walked down the sidewalk, retracing his steps from a few hours before.
*****
“This is nice,” Tabby said, stretching luxuriously at Stacie's side. They were laying together on the couch, watching on old movie on TV.
“What is?” Stacie asked.
“This,” Tabby replied. “Having time alone together. Not having to be in a big damn hurry when we decide to make love. Lord,” she said, continuing the thought, “I can't wait until we get into college. Think about it, baby,” she said, snuggling deeper into her lover's arms, cooing with pleasure as Stacie cupped her breasts lovingly. “We'll come back from class, eat a really crappy dinner,” she said with a smile. They had both heard horror stories about dorm food. “And then we will have all night long to make love. Just the two of us.”
“Unless we have homework to do. Or unless you've found another girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or unless I've found a boyfriend.”
Tabby twisted in Stacie's arms, a frown pinching her forehead. “Well, aren't you little Miss Glass-Is-Half-Empty today. What's got your panties in a twist?”
Stacie sighed. “Nothing. This...” she trailed off. “It seems to good to be true. Us. What we have together. Do you ever worry it's all just a dream, that it'll all go away one day?”
Tabby's arms tightened around her. “No,” she breathed softly, her dark blue eyes intent on her lover's face. “I don't. I love you. Maybe someday I will date another girl, or find a boyfriend, but that doesn't mean I will ever stop loving you. Do you think I'm scared I'll lose you if you find a man to share your life and your bed?” She shook her head. “This is true love,” she said, quoting 'The Princess Bride', a movie they both adored. “You think this happens every day?”
Stacie sniffled, a single tear running down her cheek. Face solemn, Tabby raised her face and kissed it away. Their eyes caught and passion kindled between them, as it had since that first night when Tabby had crept, trembling, into Stacie's sleeping bag. Below Tabby, Stacie spread her legs, making her body a cradle for her lover. Moaning, Tabby slid into her embrace, her groin gently rocking against Stacie's pubis, feeling her panties growing damp as her arousal increased. She smiled and nibbled at the curve of Stacie's jaw as she felt her pulling up her skirt, exposing her ass-cheeks to the cool air of the living room.
At that moment they both heard it; a firm knock on the front door.
“Ignore it,” Tabby said, burrowing deeper into the curve of Stacie's shoulder.
“We can't,” Stacie protested. “It might be my parents. There might be an emergency, and your car is here, so they know we're here. If we ignore them, they'll know we're ignoring them. Dad still thinks this is all going to pass over,” she said, frowning. “The last thing we should do is rub their nose in how we're screwing every chance we get.”
Tabby grunted irritably. “Why didn't they call?”
“I turned off my phone,” Stacie said miserably. “I wanted us to have some time for ourselves.”
“Fine,” Tabby said, getting up. “Don't move,” she said. “If it isn't your parents, I'll be right back.” Smoothing the folds of her skirt, she left the living room, heading for the front door, where the knock had repeated.
Stacie could hear the front door open, then low voices. One was Tabby's, but the other certainly wasn't her father's. She waited impatiently, then was surprised to hear Tabby called out. “Stacie, can you come out here, please?”
Grumbling underneath her breath, she got up and walked into the kitchen, where she received the shock of her life.
Well, not really the shock of my life, she thought dazedly. Not after what happened last night after the game.
Mr. Glassman was standing in the kitchen.
*****
Make it quick, Alan thought. Get it over with and go home. The thoughts were sane and rational, but the way his body reacted when Stacie came into the kitchen to join Tabitha was anything but. His mouth grew dry with desire, and his cock swelled in his khakis, lengthening down his thigh, an ominous, misshapen bulge clear to the view of both girls.
“Are...” he stuttered and cleared his throat. “Are your parents here, Tabitha?”
“No, Mr. Glassman,” the busty redhead replied, darting an unfathomable glance at Stacie. “They're at the movies. They won't be back until this evening. Late.”
Alan dropped his head. “This was a mistake,” he muttered. “I should have known better.” He sighed and raised his eyes to meet Tabitha's. As he did, Stacie walked around the perimeter of the kitchen, sipping at a bottle of water she had pulled out of the refrigerator. As she slipped out of her teacher's view, her nimble fingers silently turned the lock of the deadbolt in the front door, making sure Mr. Glassman's escape route would not be an easy one. Mr. Glassman might not have understood the look Tabby had given her, but she did, and her belly was roiling with a combination of fearful anticipation and lust.
“I just wanted to tell you both,” their coach continued, “that I have no intention of telling anyone what I saw yesterday night. In fact,” he said, somewhat desperately, “I think it would be best if we all pretended it never happened at all.”
“That's...very kind of you, Mr. Glassman,” Tabby said. “I have to say Stacie and I were both a little worried. Weren't we, Stacie?”
“We sure were,” Stacie agreed, her soft voice so close to his ear that he nearly jumped out of his skin. “But we're not anymore. Worried, that is,” she said with a mysterious smile, stepping around to face him. “Why aren't we worried, Tabby?” she asked.
“Because we're going to fuck Mr. Glassman today, aren't we?” purred the sexy redhead, stepping forward so she was at her lover's side.
“What? Wait! No! No no no!” Alan said frantically, trying to back away. His efforts were futile, however, as Stacie wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug. He felt her hands caress his back, then slide down to the curves of his buttocks, and froze, looking down at her.
She was a vision of teenage beauty, her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, her dark brown eyes dilated with desire, so deep he felt he could drown in them. Her pink lips were slightly parted, and he could see her chest heaving in time with her deep breaths, her hard nipples poking out into the thin cloth of her t-shirt. Her long, tan legs swept downward from narrow, athletic hips, giving her a height that nearly matched his own.
“It's only fair, Mr. Glassman,” said Tabby softly. “We showed you ours last night. Now you have to show us yours.” She pulled off her shirt, exposing her magnificent chest, flushed a bright pink with arousal. “I know you want us,” she said softly, laying a gentle hand on the inside of his thigh, where his erection pulsed madly, fighting for release. An unwilling groan tore from his lips as she caressed his hot, steely length. “Come upstairs and play.”
“No one will know,” Stacie added. “It will be our secret. We love each other. And we want to love you. Don't you want to love us?” she finished, her voice soft and sad.
“This....can't be happening,” Alan said, shaking his head. He felt dazed, confused, as if this were some so
rt of fever-dream, brought on by too many late-night fantasies.
“It's happening, Mr. Glassman. Or can I call you Alan?” Stacie asked, a wicked dimple appearing in the curve of her cheek. “I've wanted you since the first week of school. And now I'm going to have you. If you want. If you're brave enough.”
“And what happens afterward?” Alan asked, stung by Stacie's words. “I have to think about my future. Is this going to be a one-time thing, or do you want an actual relationship? And how are we going to manage that? Is it going to include all three of us? And exactly how,” he growled, his hands settling firmly on Stacie's waist, “are we supposed to keep this secret?”
