The Proposal

by R. R. Banks

  That wasn't the way that I was supposed to feel about my students, and I knew it. It wasn't like this was the first time that a student had acted out in my class. This is only my first year of teaching, but I was dealing with teenagers and that age group was not exactly known as the most pleasant and cooperative of people. There have been others in my class who wanted to test their boundaries, to push me and see just how much the new teacher would tolerate. This is my chance to prove myself, to set the tone of the type of teacher that I was going to be for the rest of my career. I could either stand my ground and insist on respect and adherence to the school rules, or I could bend to the pressures of the students. I wouldn't go so far as to say that I was as stern as the gray-haired math teacher who walked around with a metal ruler in her hand as if presenting a relic from the more daunting and violent days of public education, but I also refused to be pushed around or forced to be soft on students. My stance had brought those students that had bucked against me in the first week of class back under my control and now were actually some of my favorite students. As much as I would like to think that I was going to be that successful with any difficult student I came across, I wasn't as eager to try with Jason. He seemed like he was going to be a handful, and not just because he wanted to see how far he could stretch the boundaries. Instead, I saw something in him, something that made me want to reach out to him and to help him. It was that thing, that quality that I didn't yet understand that was making him the way that he was.

  I went home that night with a stack of assignments to grade. My students had acted like I had committed a crime against humanity when I assigned a project to be completed over the course of the winter holidays, but I had been pleasantly surprised to see that everyone in the class had managed to turn theirs in on time. Whether they would all have any level of quality, however, was still yet to be seen. I dropped the stack of folders onto my sofa as I walked through the living room toward the kitchen. It wasn't usually my style to drink coffee in the evening, but I had a feeling that I was going to need it. The Reverend lifted his head to look at me from his bed on the floor and then dropped it down again, deciding that his nap and whatever dreams that were populating his little kitty head at that moment were much more important than listening to me talk about my day. I turned the coffee maker on and was reaching into the cabinet for my favorite double sized coffee mug when I caught sight of the trifle bowl sitting in the sink. I should have washed it the night before, but I hadn't felt like going through the process. Instead, I had filled it with water and a squirt of dish liquid and convinced myself that it was soaking.

  Seeing the trifle dish now didn't bring to mind thoughts of my domestic failures. Instead, they made me think of Garrett's smile and the sound of his laugh. It had made me happier than it should have to hear that he enjoyed the dessert that I made, and I couldn't help but wonder if his lush lips would have tasted like the sweet trifle. I tucked my coffee mug into place and pressed the brew button before walking over to the sink and starting to clean out the dish. He said that he had enjoyed the trifle, and he had only gotten to have three little servings. Maybe I could just head over to the firehouse and make sure that he was getting settled in alright.

  The Reverend was standing in the doorway of the kitchen when I turned around. I paused and looked at him.

  "It's the neighborly thing to do," I said.

  Two hours later, I stepped out of my bedroom with my hair freshly styled and my makeup reapplied, the skirt of the dress I was wearing swirling around my thighs. The cut was seasonally inappropriate, but I told myself that the dark blue color made it just fine for a winter night. I put the finishing touches on the fresh trifle that I had made and stretched plastic wrap over the top of it to protect it in the car. I caught a glimpse of The Reverend walking across the top of the sofa as I slipped into my jacket and I looked over at him before picking up the trifle.

  "Don't judge me," I said.

  I walked out of my house and got into the car to head to the firehouse.

  There weren't any cars in the front parking lot of the firehouse when I pulled in. I sat there in my car wondering if I should drive around to the back lot to see if I could recognize Garrett's car from my jacket-stealing escapade. I realized that was entirely possible that he wasn't even in the firehouse that night. I had just assumed that the welcoming party had been a sort of official installment and that he would be on duty thereafter. It occurred to me, though, that even a fire chief would get time off and that maybe he hadn't even started yet. That would certainly make for an awkward entrance, but I'd already come out this far. I might as well go inside.

  I got out of my car and walked around to unhook the trifle from the seat belt that I had lovingly latched around it to keep it from sliding across the seat while I was driving. I walked up to the door of the firehouse and knocked. The truth was that I didn't really know the protocol for visiting a firehouse. I knew that I had gone on a field trip to this particular firehouse when I was in elementary school, but the firefighters had been waiting outside for us when we arrived, and we were ushered through the station and out to the shiny red truck where we climbed and played for the majority of the trip. And to this day I wasn't completely sure of what it was that we were supposed to learn on that trip.

  I didn't hear any movement or sound from inside the firehouse, so I reached for the bell. I rang it and took a partial step back from the door. That movement was a remnant of the lessons that my mother taught me when I was younger. She put as much effort as she could into teaching me to be polite. One of the manners that she had emphasized was that when you approached a door, you stepped back so that whoever was inside could have a chance to see you through the peephole before opening it. I always felt like that it was an extremely judgmental approach. It was like I was stepping back and presenting myself for scrutiny so that the person inside could decide whether or not they wanted to be bothered with me that day. Yet, here I was, standing a few feet back from the door and wondering if someone was inside the firehouse peeking through some unseen window or peephole, and sizing me up. I was tempted to turn around, scurry back across the parking lot, get into my car, go back home, and keep the entire trifle for myself, but before I could, I heard the locks releasing on the inside of the door. It opened, and I saw Garrett looking out at me. Any desire to go back home and gorge myself on trifle immediately melted away.

  Suddenly the only thing I wanted anywhere near my mouth was him.

  Garrett seemed to have the same thing on his mind. His eyes traveled up and down my body, grazed briefly over the trifle I held in front of me, then rose to my face and locked on mine. I saw his tongue slip out and run across his lips. My heart was beating faster, and I could hear the blood rushing in my ears as my body woke up.

  "Hi there," he said.

  His voice was low and velvety, lacking the pop and spark that it had had when he was talking at the party the night before. Then he was addressing everybody, trying to draw them in. Now he was speaking only to me. I was all that mattered, and his voice made it abundantly clear that that was exactly how he wanted it to be.

  "Hello," I said. I held the trifle up a little higher. "I wanted to welcome you to Silver Lake now that I actually know who you are."

  "Oh, really?" he asked. "That's very friendly of you." He reached forward and tucked his fingers into the belt of my jacket, drawing me forward toward him. "Let me thank you."

  I have always been the type of woman who likes to feel in control like I know what's coming. I always read the last page of a book before starting. In that moment, I knew exactly what was coming, but I felt far from in control.

  I let Garrett pull me through the door and into the firehouse. The small lobby was empty, the desk that sat against one wall deserted. We continued past the small collection of furniture that I couldn't imagine getting a tremendous amount of use and through a door that led into the section of the firehouse set aside just for the firefighters to use while they waited f
or the next call. In a community like Silver Lake, there were far more nights than not when that call never came, which accounted for how well-appointed this section of the house seemed to be. I vaguely remembered being brought through this part during the field trip, but it was more elaborate now, filled with enough furniture, game machines, and electronics to make it look more a bachelor's apartment and less a place where heroes waited for the next moment of adrenaline and terror.

  He took the trifle from my hands and placed it on the table that sat in the middle of the room. As soon as the glass dish had left my grasp, I was in his arms. His mouth caught mine and I felt something inside me snap. Need and arousal rushed through me and I gave myself over to the kiss, pressing my body close to Garrett's and seeking his tongue with mine. Our tongues tangled, and my hands dug into the hair at the back of his neck. The heels I was wearing that night weren't as high as the ones I had been wearing the last time that we were together, so Garrett had to lean over further to touch his hands to my thighs. This crushed our bodies more tightly together and I could feel the hard, delicious nudging of his growing erection in my belly. His hands ran up the backs of my legs, lifting my skirt out of the way as he went until it pooled at my hips and his fingers caught the bottom swells of my ass.

  Garrett's fingertips slithered between my thighs and pressed against the heat of my core. The panties I had put on were already damp and I knew that he could feel that I was already ready and waiting for him. He ran his fingers up the string of my thong and caught the strands at my hips. I lifted my legs in turn as he guided the panties down my thighs and soon they were kicked across the floor and forgotten. I felt Garrett's mouth leave mine and travel across my cheek to my ear. One hand had slid up my thigh and along the juncture between my leg and hip. I gasped at the unexpected sensitivity of that skin and parted my legs slightly to give him more access to my body.

  "Do you want to see my truck?" he asked in a husky whisper.

  I nodded, moaning as he moved his fingers down briefly to draw them through my petals and give one brief moment of pressure to my clit as if in promise of more to come. He gave me another hard, intense kiss and then stepped away from me, taking my hand and guiding me through the rest of the station toward the bay where they kept the fire truck.

  "Where is everybody?" I asked breathlessly as we went.

  "Only me tonight," he said. "I think that it's some sort of initiation for the new guy. They all requested tonight off before I got here so that my first night would be completely by myself."

  "That seems mean."

  "No," he said, drawing me toward the truck and lifting me up so that I stood on the back, my hand wrapped around the ladder. "It's just guys being guys. They think it's funny. If something happened, they'd all be here to help."

  Garrett latched onto the handle beside me, planting his foot next to mine, and swung up so that I was pressed to the back of the truck and he enveloped me. His mouth covered mine and I felt the cold of the metal side of the truck against my skin. He released the belt of my jacket and pushed the sides apart to reveal the dress underneath. He gave a groan of appreciation and ran his finger along the scooped neckline then along the center of my chest down to my stomach. I knew that he could feel it trembling. He looked at me with hunger in his eyes and dropped down from the step so that his face was level with my stomach. He pressed it against my body, nuzzling through my dress until I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. He nudged the fabric up with his forehead and nose until I felt my skirt sliding up my thighs and over my hips. The air touched my bare core and I shivered with the blend of chill and delicious excitement that rippled through me in response.

  His tongue delved between my thighs and caught my sensitive tissues, exploring my curves and folds as he eagerly lapped up the juices that flowed out of me, encouraging me to open up to him, to ready for him further. There was nothing slow or gradual about this attention. This was an instant burn, a passion that threatened to consume us. He spent a few dizzying seconds licking me before he pulled away and disappeared back into the station. I rested my head back against the truck, trying to catch my breath, but in an instant, he was back and I saw him holding a condom in his mouth as he released the button of his pants and lowered his zipper. Garrett swung back up onto the truck with me and I felt his pants slide down to his ankles. The warmth of his skin radiated towards me and I pushed toward it, craving more of it, needing his touch.

  Garrett reached down and took my leg, lifting it up so that my foot was propped on the ladder beside me. He pushed my skirt up and took a moment to look at me, his eyes eagerly taking in my vulnerable, exposed core, my aching need obvious. He took the condom from his mouth and opened it, settling it on the tip of his erection. As he rolled it down the length with one hand, he used the other to dip two fingers into me, ensuring that I was fully ready to accept him. I gasped as he pressed deeply inside me, the intensity of the pressure and sudden filling causing my knee to buckle.

  Garrett released his cock and grasped my face with his free hand, holding it pressed back against the truck so that he could kiss me again. His tongue coaxed my lips apart and plunged into my mouth, tangling with my tongue and exploring me deeply. I felt his cock nudging at my entrance, his fingers sliding out, and then he pushed inside me, his hand sliding down to the front of my throat to hold me against the truck. His other hand grasped my breast, kneading into it firmly as he immediately started to thrust inside me. There was no hesitation in his movements and he stroked into me with an intensity that bordered on desperation. I met the urgency with the rocking of my hips and hungry kisses along Garrett's neck. The fact that we were still nearly dressed seemed to only make the situation more erotic and I could already feel myself rushing toward climax. I knew that at any moment one of the firefighters could show up at the firehouse to check on the new chief, or an alarm could sound, calling the team to an emergency. That only fueled me further and I let out a loud moan, realizing that I almost wanted someone outside to hear me.

  The sound seemed to push Garrett over the edge of what little control he had, and he let out a growl, reaching down to grab my hips with a grip so hard I could feel his fingertips digging into my skin. He slammed into me with dizzying strength and I closed my eyes, giving myself over completely to the sensations that he was creating within me. I let out a scream as a sudden orgasm crashed over me. My body arched away from the truck and I released the ladder and handle so that I could cling to Garrett. He pushed forward with his body so that I was flattened against the truck again and grabbed the top of the truck overhead, using it for leverage so that he could pound into me with even greater fervor, finally forcing all the way into me and letting out a roar as I felt him throb. My spasms drew his cock deeper into my body, meeting each of his pulses so that I squeezed him, embracing him with my entire body. Finally, all the tension was gone from my body and I sagged against Garrett, feeling out of breath and giddy.

  "What's that smile all about?"

  I looked up and saw one of my co-workers reaching for a paper cup beside the coffee maker in the teachers’ lounge. I shook my head, trying to get the grin off my face, but knowing that it was futile.

  "I was just thinking about a show that I watched last night," I said. "It was really funny."

  She looked at me as though she didn't believe a single word that I said.

  "That's not the smile of someone who spent the evening watching comedy," she said.

  I looked at her with as much wide-eyed innocence as I could muster.

  "What do you mean?" I asked. "It was that show. You know the one. The one that everybody loves so much. The one with the family name and the husband and the wife and the kids and they're always getting into stuff and they don't really get along, but they do, and they have that neighbor."

  She stared at me.

  "Mmmmm-hmmmmm," she said. "I appreciate that vague and completely non-specific description of approximately eighty percent of the TV shows that h
ave ever come on. I'm sure that episode with the people doing the stuff and with the things that were funny was hilarious."

  I knew that I had been caught, but I wasn't about to give up my charade. I didn't really know her well enough to get into the details of my own personal grown-up field trip to the firehouse. Instead, I finished swirling my hazelnut creamer and sugar into my cup of coffee, smiled at her, and headed out of the lounge toward my classroom. Homeroom didn't start for another forty-five minutes, but I appreciated the quiet and calm of the new day. It gave me the opportunity to think about my plans for the day's classes and to figure out a way that I could explain that I hadn't even started grading the projects.

  I had finished my coffee and was contemplating heading back to the lounge for another when the first few students came into the room. They grinned at me and I wondered if they could see the same giddiness on my face that the other teacher had. They all took their seats and I knew that my chances of grabbing another coffee or having a few more minutes to myself were over. One thing that I had learned during my time teaching was that you never left a classroom with teenagers in it without supervision. I watched the students come in and fill the desks. It didn't come as a surprise when one desk was left empty.