The Proposal

by R. R. Banks

  "You came to me yesterday and told me about a problem that you are having with a student," he said.

  "Yes, Jason Baxter."

  "He didn't come for his detention yesterday afternoon."

  Thank you for the recap.

  "I had given him the detention because of a behavioral problem and because he failed to complete an assignment that I had given the rest of the class during the allotted time. He never showed up yesterday afternoon."

  "I appreciate you bringing this to my attention and I wanted to let you know that I have been in contact with his father and we discussed the situation."

  "Thank you," I said, feeling relieved. "I really appreciate…"

  "We've agreed to let the situation go and move forward."

  I blinked. I couldn't possibly have heard what I thought I just did.

  "Excuse me?" I asked.

  "I discussed the situation with him and he told me that there were apparently extenuating circumstances that were at play."

  "If you want to describe a non-mandatory work out for the baseball team as extenuating circumstances," I said.

  "Apparently that practice is very important, and I agreed that we need to give our new students encouragement and space to grow and participating in school programs such as sports teams is a good way to make them feel involved and welcomed."

  It sounded as though he were reciting something that was written in a brochure about the school. I stared at him for a few more seconds, trying to process what he was telling me.

  "So, what you're saying is that even though I am his teacher and I decided that it was appropriate for him to have a detention after school, nothing is going to be done. He is going to get away with the way that he talks to me and not doing the work that was expected of him."

  "I must say, Gwendolyn, I am disappointed by your reaction."

  "Disappointed?"

  "Yes. When you first came to work here I was looking forward to having a fresh, young, new teacher who would be able to engage with our students and connect with them on a more personal level than some of our more experienced instructors. I would hope that that would extend to new students who may be having difficulty settling in and who only want to expand their horizons and broaden the opportunities that they have for their future."

  More from the Silver Lake High brochure.

  "With all due respect, Mr. Jefferson, I believe that the most important part of being a teacher is holding students accountable and helping them to understand the importance of living up to the responsibilities that they have. I can appreciate that he wants to be on the baseball team and that attending the workout would look good to the coach, but what about his dedication to his actual classes?"

  "I understand that this is upsetting you, Gwendolyn, but the matter is settled. I hope that you can see that this is in the best interest of everybody involved. Now you can have a fresh start. I'm sure that Jason will come back to class with greater enthusiasm and more commitment to being a good student."

  I walked out of the office still furious. I couldn't believe that the principal would override my decision like that and release Jason from his punishment without at least consulting me. Nothing that the principal had said had made any sense to me. I didn't care that Jason was new. There were two other new students in another grade who had started within a day or two of Jason, and I didn't see them getting any special treatment. I knew that there wasn't really anything that I could do about it, though. I wanted to help Jason. I wanted to figure out what it was that was making him act out the way that he was and be the influence that guided him through it. But I was at the mercy of Mr. Jefferson. He was the head of the school and if he decided that the situation didn't warrant intervention, I couldn't go against him. I would just have to hope that he was right about Jason having a change of heart and that I would be able to reach out to him in a different way.

  I thought about Garrett as I wove my way through the crowd of students filling the hallways as they made their way to their first class after homeroom. The stress and tension that I was feeling made me want to visit him even more. I had learned that he was very good at distracting me and easing any stress that I was feeling. I wondered if I could sneak out and visit him again, but I knew that it wouldn't be as soon as I wanted to. I already had plans for that evening. It was my bi-weekly standing date with several of the other teachers from the school. Some of them I knew from before I started teaching and others I had met in my first days at the high school. We started meeting every other week to go to a local bar for drinks and gossip in my first week of teaching and had kept up with it since. It was an opportunity for us to say all the things about other teachers, students, and parents that we would never dare say in the hallowed halls of the high school, but that we could later blame on whatever cocktail we had been drinking. It was the promise of that gathering that got me through the rest of the day, but I was still brooding about the situation when I arrived at the bar that evening.

  "What's with the face?" Sarah asked as I approached the table and slid into the booth beside her.

  "Hello to you too," I said.

  "Wow," Elise, another teacher from the school, said. "Someone is in a truly delightful mood this evening."

  I sighed.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I just had kind of a rough day. I have this new student and he's driving me up a wall."

  "And why is that?" Sarah asked.

  I gave them the rundown of everything that had happened since Jason's first day in class, occasionally backtracking to fill in the other teachers as they arrived. I kept his name out of my rant. Somehow, I wanted to protect him. Even after everything, I still felt a strong sense of compassion and responsibility toward him, and I didn't want the teachers forming any type of opinions about him based only on me. When I was finished I looked into the faces of each of my colleagues, waiting for their responses.

  "It sounds to me like he's just having a really hard time getting used to being in a new place," Elise said.

  "Do you know how far he moved?" Laura asked.

  I shook my head.

  "I really don't know much about him. I haven't had the chance to actually talk to him."

  "Well, maybe you should. I have a new student in my class, too. He started a few weeks before Christmas break, but he had a rough start, too. He didn't want anything to do with the town, the school, or me. He was outright nasty to me and raised holy hell with some of the other students."

  "What did you do about it?" I asked.

  "I kept him after school for a couple of detentions and then I started doing lunch detention with him. During those is when we really started talking. That's when I found out that he was going through some pretty tough things at home. He was being raised by his grandparents along with six siblings and was having to work before and after school just to help support all of them. He's been much better since we talked."

  Hearing that made me feel terrible about the way I had been thinking about Jason.

  "When you gave him detention, did Mr. Jefferson ever step in and cancel the detention? Or tell you what you were supposed to do to handle the situation?"

  Laura shook her head.

  "No," she said. “He never got involved.”

  I sighed.

  And somehow now I felt even worse. I also felt jipped. I had come out tonight for the promise of being able to throw some shade and hear about the juicy, sometimes dirty details of the lives of my much more interesting colleagues. Instead, I felt like it had turned into a group therapy session and I just wasn't up for that. Elise apparently saw the expression on my face and she straightened her back, lifting her cocktail into the air and looking into each of our faces.

  "I proclaim that all discussions about students and the somewhat depressing effect that they can have on our lives over and done with for this evening. Tomorrow we can all go back to being the caring mentors and role models we all hope to be, but for tonight all conversation will be interesting and preferabl
y inappropriate in nature."

  We laughed and lifted our drinks toward hers.

  "Here, here!" A couple of the teachers said enthusiastically.

  "So, what did everybody do for New Year's?" Laura asked.

  "Well, we all know that Gwendolyn had a hot date with Mr. Chili Beans," Elise said.

  I gasped in mock horror.

  "His name is The Reverend Holy Frijole," I corrected. "Show some respect."

  "I'm sorry. So, are you saying that you didn't share a magical evening with your cat and you actually rang in the New Year with a real-live human?"

  I hesitated, and the other women laughed. I didn't find the whole thing quite as rip-roaringly hilarious as they seemed to, but finally, they stopped laughing and Sarah wrapped her arm encouragingly around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze.

  "Alright," she said. "Enough teasing. We love our sweet little Gwendolyn and I, for one, think that it's much better to ring in the New Year with a handsome, loving man like Frijole than by having anonymous sex with a partner of dubious origin."

  "Is it possible to have anonymous sex with a partner of distinct origin?" Elise asked.

  I picked up my drink and took a sip, wanting to cover the curve of my lips. Apparently, I didn't sip fast enough, however, because Laura's eyes locked on my face

  "Is that a smile I see?" she asked. "Is there something you aren't telling us, Gwendolyn?"

  What would they think if they knew that the sweet, unlucky-in-love member of their group had not only had insanely hot anonymous sex but that it had segued into another passionate encounter with the gorgeous new fire chief?

  I knew that I couldn't tell them. I couldn't put Garrett's reputation at risk. Beyond that, though, I liked keeping him a secret. I liked the thrill of it, the elevated scandal that came from going about my normal life not letting on that I was delving into purely physical, irresistible pleasures. It was like wearing a simple dress with no panties underneath.

  Oh, shit. Panties.

  I had left my panties at the firehouse the night I went to see Garrett. How could I have walked out of there bare-assed and not noticed until now? I couldn't stop thinking about it throughout the rest of the evening and by the time that I bowed out of the possibility of a karaoke night breaking out among the teachers, my hand was already on my phone. I started dialing Garrett before I even closed my car door.

  "Hello?"

  "Where are my panties?"

  "Oh, so we've moved beyond texting now, have we?"

  "Yes. This seemed like more of a phone call type situation. Where are my panties?"

  "I would think that you are wearing them."

  "Not those panties."

  "In your dresser, perhaps? Unless you are a lingerie chest type of woman."

  There was a hint of playfulness in his voice, adding some lightness to its velvety tone.

  "Look, Mr. Fire Chief, you know exactly what I'm talking about."

  "Do I? I'm sorry. I must be distracted by all the silence in this empty firehouse."

  I hung up and tossed the phone to the seat beside me, turning at the nearest street and heading back in the other direction toward the firehouse. The single cocktail that I had had wasn't enough to affect me, yet I felt my mind swimming. I knew that it was thoughts of Garrett and the anticipation of getting to the firehouse. When I did, I walked up to the door and knocked on it just as I had the first time that I visited. It didn't take long this time for me to hear footsteps approaching the door and the locks releasing. The door opened, and I saw Garrett step back, one hand held up and my flimsy black thong dangling from his finger.

  "Are these what you were looking for?" he asked.

  "Are you starting a collection?" I asked.

  He shook his head as I stepped into the firehouse and closed the door behind me.

  "I'd have to have at least two pairs for it to be a collection," he said.

  "Mmmm --- then I guess I'll just be taking those back."

  Garrett looked at the panties in his hand and then shook his head.

  "No," he said. "I don't think so."

  He started for the door that led out of the lobby.

  "What do you mean you don't think so?" I asked, following him.

  "I think that I have other plans for these."

  We walked into the furnished room just as we had the last time when he suddenly turned and looked at me. I expected him to kiss me, but he didn't. Instead, Garrett took the few steps to close the space between us and reached out to untie the belt of my jacket. I watched him ball up my panties and push them into his pocket before sliding the jacket back from my shoulders and onto the floor. I was wearing black jeans and a cream-colored sweater, nothing as enticing as I had worn during our last encounters, but as he scrutinized me, he still looked at me with hunger in his eyes. He tucked his hands under my sweater and ran them up my stomach and onto my ribs, pressing with his fingertips as if counting my ribs. He then touched his fingertips to the underwire of my bra and followed it to the center where they traveled up between my breasts and then swept over the swells before his hands settled fully over the soft cotton of the cups. He massaged into them for a few seconds and then ran his hands to my arms, so he could guide my sweater off over my head. When it had dropped from my fingers, Garrett knelt down in front of me and picked up one of my feet. He propped it on his thigh and untied the black ankle boot I was wearing.

  I watched as Garrett took off my shoe and set it aside, then peeled away my sock. He placed my foot back down on the floor and picked up the other, repeating the process. The movements were slow, methodical. I wanted to speak, but something about the meticulous way that he was gradually undressing me kept me silent. Still on his knees, Garrett released the button on the front of my pants and drew the zipper down. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of my pants and wriggled them down over my hips and down my legs until I stepped out of them. When he had pushed them aside, his hands found my ankles and ran up the backs of my legs until they reached the panties I was wearing. They were white cotton to match my bra, a simple, practical choice, and I found myself feeling strange with him looking at them. I waited for them to turn him off, to be the final emphasis on how different I was from the person he met, but he seemed unfazed.

  Garrett continued on with his slow, systematic undressing, guiding me first out of my panties and then out of my bra. Finally, I was standing completely bare in front of him, but he hadn't shed a single shred of clothing. He hadn't even kissed me. Without a word, he looped one finger around one of mine and led me across the room toward the fire pole that came down from the upstairs quarters. I remembered being a child and not believing that there were poles in actual firehouses. They were just on playgrounds and in old movies. That was the one truly enlightening thing about our field trip.

  Maybe that was the mysterious moral of the trip.

  Garrett led me to the pole and pressed me against it so that my belly faced the metal. He stood behind me and swept both arms up and over my head, clasping my hands around the pole. A second later I felt his hands come back to my wrists and something tightening around them. I looked up and saw Garrett tying my panties tightly around my hands, lashing them to the pole over my head. When he was finished, he ran his hands down my arms and down the sides of my body until he reached my thighs. Once there, he tucked his hands to the insides of my legs and pushed them apart. He grabbed me by my hips and pulled them back so that I took several steps away from the pole. This put me in a bent over position, my hands still wrapped around the metal and my body fully exposed to him. The dominance sent a shiver of nervousness through me, but I also found myself intrigued, excited by the unknown, by his quiet strength that made me feel at once perfectly safe and at his mercy.

  I had been craving Garrett's kiss since I arrived at the firehouse and now I finally felt his lips on my skin. They burned along my spine from the base of my head to the dip in the small of my back, then his tongue came between his lips and ran back up, foll
owing the path that he had just made until he reached my neck. I gasped at the feeling, arching toward it. Garrett stood close behind me and I felt his hand touch my thigh again and move up to dip between them, finding my core and stroking my sensitive pearl with his fingertips. His other hand found one of my breasts and his fingers teased my nipple, squeezing it lightly and pulling it as he increased the speed and pressure of his fingers. I rose up onto my toes in response to the delicious sensations and Garrett responded by gliding his fingers back through my folds and pushing them into me. My entrance stretched, and my walls softened at his touch, wanting more and eagerly readying to accept it. He continued to play with my nipple as he turned his hand, pressing the pad of his thumb to my clit and swirling it in a dizzying pattern that made me cry out. In an instant, the intense pressure of a mind-blowing orgasm rushed over me and I screamed out, pressing my hips back toward him and spreading my legs further so he could push his fingers deeper inside me to soothe the still-aching need throbbing there.

  Garrett withdrew his fingers and grasped my hips, pushing me back toward the pole so that I stood upright. He reached above my head and slightly loosened the panties so that he could turn me around to face him and use my shoulders to push me down to a crouching position in front of him. I watched hungrily as he slowly unhooked his belt and unbuttoned his pants. My hands twitched with desire to undress him, to hasten the release of the erection I could see bulging against his zipper. The fact that I couldn't only intensified my arousal and my mouth was watering by the time that I finally got to see his lush length stretching toward me. He stepped forward, so he stood between my spread knees and grasped the base of his shaft, directing the head toward my mouth.