Stirred Up

by Isabel Morin

  “And?” Emily said, clearly exasperated now.

  “And he’s hot, all right? It’s no big deal. I just wasn’t–”

  “Expecting it,” Emily finished.

  Cheryl shot her a look. “Why are you smirking?”

  Emily’s eyes widened, all innocence. “I’m not. I wouldn’t smirk.” She was grinning now. “It’s just interesting, that’s all. You never seem affected by anyone. And you have all those rules.”

  It wasn’t precisely true that no one affected her. Once upon a time she’d been pretty affected by Cutter Lawrence, one of the bouncers at the club. All the girls had been into Cutter, but that hadn’t made it any easier when Cutter and Emily had become a thing. That was all water under the bridge, though. She was happy for them both, and it was obvious they were perfect for each other.

  “I didn’t say I was affected,” Cheryl said. “I was just sharing my observations.” She bent over and started teasing her hair. “Do you have those glasses you wear for sexy librarian?”

  “They’re here somewhere,” Emily said, heading over to her locker. She rooted around for a minute before producing them with a flourish. “What’s your act?”

  “Sexy teacher.”

  Emily laughed so hard the other dancers in the room looked over at them. “Inspired. If only your hot teacher knew.”

  “Jesus, don’t even say that. That’s my worst nightmare.”

  She wasn’t kidding. Probably no one could kick her out of the program if she were found out, but it would raise all sorts of questions and speculation. And if the students somehow found out, she’d have to leave the damn state. The thought of it made her feel ill. Which is why this was the last time she was doing the teacher thing. She just hadn’t had time to think up an extra outfit for tonight.

  “Oh, God. I’m sorry, Cheryl,” Emily said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Hey, Cheryl, want a slug?” Nancy called over, passing her flask to Tina, who took a swig and passed it to Emily, who took a ladylike sip and handed it to Cheryl.

  She definitely needed a slug. It was pretty much impossible to go on stage completely sober, but over the years she’d become pretty laid back about stripping. She knew the drill and no longer needed to drink more than a couple gulps before going on.

  She was running late now, so she quickly pulled a black skirt and white button-down blouse on over her hot pink bra, thong and garters. She had her make-up done within a few minutes and then ran her song list down the hall to Stan, the audio guy. With just a few minutes left to spare she went back into the dressing room and fussed with her hair a bit more. It needed to come down in a sexy swoop as soon as she took out the bobby pin and shook her head.

  Sexy teacher. God. If anyone ever found out…she looked at her reflection then, really looked.

  It was just as well she didn’t get all worked up over guys. A man like Jason Shaw would always be out of reach. Guys like him weren’t looking for women who’d just barely made it through high school and were still in college at the age of twenty-six. She knew the type of guys who were into her, which was why she hadn’t gone on a date in nearly a year. It had been longer than that since she’d had sex, God help her. She might have to do something about that before she lost her mind, but she’d worry about that another time.

  Stan called down the hall for her to hurry up. Slipping on her four-inch black stilettos, she ran out, waiting at the edge of the stage for Nancy to finish. Then Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” started and she strutted out into the blare of music and lights.

  The jolt of energy, the rush of adrenaline was the same, even after four years. That and the abandon she felt on stage carried her through each performance, even when moments before she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.

  The crowd was in good form tonight, men calling “Cherry, Cherry” as she swung around the pole and shook her ass at the edge of the stage. They looked up at her, lusting, worshipful, and who knew what else. They were a sea of faces she had to entertain, so she gave it her best and let herself go, her frustration and fears chased away by the pounding music and the certainty that here, at least, she knew exactly what she was doing.

  Chapter Two

  “I’m going to have you pair up and read each other’s essay, then take fifteen minutes to discuss whether all the elements are there.”

  There was a chorus of groans at this.

  Jason continued. “Your homework tonight will be to revise what you wrote, using the comments you receive in class. Or not, depending on if you think they were helpful.”

  During these instructions Cheryl watched Billy, a thin boy sitting one row in front of her and to the right. She’d noticed him last week, too, though she suspected the last thing this boy wanted was to be noticed. Everything about the way he held himself betrayed his shyness and insecurity. Even his hair was too long in front and hung over his eyes, as if it might shield him from the world.

  As soon as Jason announced they’d be pairing up, Billy started looking around the classroom, his gaze going up and down the rows of students. The whole time he shifted around in his seat, as if agitated and ready to jump up at any moment.

  Puzzled, Cheryl watched Billy as the students pulled out their essays and turned toward one another, pairing up. And then she understood. There were twenty-three students in the class, and those around him turned away and sought other partners, ignoring him.

  It was clear that he would have no partner for the assignment, and he’d seen it coming, probably from past experience. Cheryl remembered this happening on occasion when she was in school. The unlucky student ended up drawing everyone’s attention and invariably looked mortified by the whole thing.

  Cheryl stood up, figuring she could head all of that off by asking the two boys near Billy to work with him. She’d only taken a step in their direction when Billy stood up, clutching his papers and backpack, and walked over to Jason.

  “I don’t feel well, Mr. Shaw. My stomach’s really bothering me. Can I go to the nurse?”

  Jason looked down at him, his expression full of concern.

  “Of course. Let me write you a pass.”

  Billy waited, his body tense, then took the pass and practically ran from the room.

  Cheryl sat back down, feeling like she’d let Billy down. When class was over she told Jason what had happened and he looked crestfallen.

  “Damn, that’s really depressing. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

  “It’s no wonder you didn’t. You have the whole class to deal with, and you were in the middle of giving an assignment. And to be honest, I think I noticed him because he reminds me of myself when I was in middle school.”

  “Really? Were you that shy?”

  “Unfortunately. Shy and red-headed, which was a winning combination. But by high school I’d hardened into a real badass with a whole other set of issues.”

  She laughed, letting him know she was poking fun at herself, but the moment all that was out of her mouth she wondered why she’d said so much.

  Jason raised his eyebrows but let the subject drop.

  “Has he always been like that?” she asked.

  “He just moved here, so he’s probably having trouble adjusting. My guess is he doesn’t have any friends yet.” He sighed, looking pained. “I hate to say it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the guys are giving him a hard time. Kids like him don’t usually get through high school unscathed.”

  “I know. Poor kid,” she said, wracking her brain for some magic bullet. Of course there was no such thing, but that didn’t mean they should do nothing.

  “From now on I’ll either avoid pairing them up or I’ll assign groups myself,” Jason said, and her heart lightened a bit knowing he was taking the situation seriously. “I’ll talk to the other teachers, too, so they can keep their eyes open.”

  “Maybe we should ask the nurse how often Billy’s down there” Chery
l suggested. “If he’s going there a lot, it might mean he’s having problems in other classes, or even at home.”

  Jason ran a hand through his hair, further disheveling it. He looked tired and worried, but when he looked at her, he was smiling warmly.

  “You’ve been here less than two weeks and you’re already carrying your weight. Not too shabby, Ms. Munro.”

  The moment he said it, she realized that she couldn’t remember the last time a man had praised her for something other than her looks or her dancing. His easy compliment about something that mattered so much to her brought tears to her eyes. Quickly she blinked them away, appalled at her loss of control.

  She went home that afternoon feeling more deeply satisfied than she had in a long time. Maybe ever. She spent the next two nights preparing for her first class, and by the time she fell asleep Wednesday night at her kitchen table, she could have written a dissertation about the short story she’d be teaching, J.D. Salinger’s “A Perfect Day for Bananafish.” Her notes were almost as long as the story, but at least she felt prepared.

  Unfortunately, that did nothing to alleviate her terror at teaching a class for the first time. Jason greeted her as usual when she arrived that morning, then looked at her with narrowed eyes.

  “Are you okay? You look pale.”

  “I’m fine. Just a little tired,” she lied, unwilling to let him know how unnerved she was. She busied herself pulling her notebook and water out of her bag so he couldn’t see her face. She wasn’t the best liar.

  “Nervous about teaching today?” he asked, oh-so-innocently.

  Apparently she was fooling no one.

  “Okay, I admit it. I’m petrified. But I’ll have it under control by third period. I’d better anyway, since they can smell fear.”

  Jason laughed. “You got that right. But you’ll be fine, and I’ll be right there.”

  That was partly what she was nervous about. He’d be watching her, assessing her, and she didn’t want to fail. Didn’t want him to think less of her. It went beyond worry about what a supervisor might think to something more personal, a fact that aggravated her no end.

  The class went fine, if not stupendously. She managed to get some of the students to talk, though others looked bored and doodled in their notebooks. That was par for the course though, even when Jason was teaching.

  The bell for lunch period rang and the students filed out into the chaos of the hallway. Cheryl fell into the desk chair, relieved beyond measure.

  “That bad?” Jason asked, getting up from his desk at the back of the room, where he’d been observing.

  “No, of course not,” she said, sitting up straighter. “I didn’t mean to be so dramatic.”

  Jason laughed and leaned a hip against the desk. “You did great today. You really engaged the class and got them thinking. You’re a natural.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I felt like I got on a roll after a little while, but it definitely didn’t feel natural at first. Not with all of them staring at me, trying to figure out what my deal is. And some of the boys…”

  She trailed off, not sure if she should be mentioning the way some of the male students looked at her. Their expressions weren’t so far removed from what she saw in the faces of men at the strip club, which was disconcerting to say the least.

  “Yeah, I wasn’t sure if I should bring that up or not,” he said looking uncomfortable. “You’re a very attractive woman, and these boys are walking hormone bombs. One of your challenges will be how to deal with that.”

  She sighed. “I was kind of hoping my nun-like outfits would take care of that.”

  “It’s a smart move, but unless you wear full body armor and a mask, you’ll probably have to deal with some level of attention.”

  “Back when I was first applying to the school of education, one of the counselors tried to talk me out of secondary school. She thought high school boys would make my life a living hell and I should do elementary instead.”

  “So why didn’t you?” he asked.

  “I’ve just always wanted to teach high school. Maybe a part of it is just to do a better job than my own teachers did.”

  “Ah, revenge teaching. Now I get it,” he teased.

  Cheryl laughed. “It would have helped if someone had noticed what I was going through, that’s all. And I think I’ll notice when kids are having trouble. Or I’ll do my best to, and I won’t just ignore it.”

  “You’ve proven that already,” he said. He was looking at her curiously now. “You had a rough time, huh?”

  “You could say that. I’m not blaming my teachers for it, but looking back I know I was displaying some pretty obvious signs, and no one ever asked me how I was doing. Well, except for my senior year English teacher.”

  He looked like maybe he wanted to ask her more about what sort of troubles she’d been having, but then decided against it.

  “Lucky for us it was an English teacher,” he said, instead.

  His comment warmed her heart, so of course she ignored it. She also needed to stop talking so much about herself before she said something she’d regret. If only he weren’t so easy to talk to.

  “So what about you?” she asked, anxious to take the focus off herself, but genuinely interested as well. “Did you always want to teach?”

  “I wanted to be a professional baseball player, but teaching was my backup plan.”

  Cheryl laughed, then looked at his face and realized he wasn’t joking.

  “Really?” she asked, her surprise fading as she took him in.

  He was lean and tall, clearly athletic. Now that she thought about it, it wasn’t hard to imagine him as a baseball player. Though surely the odds were stacked against anyone wanting a professional career in baseball.

  “I was actually pretty good, if I do say so myself, so it wasn’t a total fantasy,” he said. “I got recruited to Oregon State on a full scholarship and played first and third base. I had some scouts checking me out in my junior year, but then I tore my ACL and had to sit out the rest of the season. I played again senior year, but it was never the same.”

  “Wow, that sucks,” Cheryl said, feeling for him.

  “Yeah, it really did, but I’m okay with it now.”

  “Your dream died before it ever had a chance and you’re totally fine with it? I’m not sure I would be.”

  Jason laughed. “Okay, you caught me. I was trying to sound mature, but I do still think about it. I wouldn’t say I’m torn up or bitter, though. There’s no way to know if I’d have made it. I play in a league now, so I didn’t give it up entirely. And anyway, I really do love teaching.”

  “The baseball world lost out, but the kids of Henderson, Nevada, got lucky.”

  “That’s really sweet.”

  She looked away, unable to hold his gaze.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “I needed to do something, and I suppose teaching had kind of been there at the back of my mind, since both my parents are teachers. I had to stay in school an extra year to finish my degree, but in the end it worked out well enough.”

  They were both quiet for a second, thinking their own thoughts.

  “I’m heading to the teachers’ lounge,” he said, gathering some papers from his desk. “Care to join me?”

  ***

  Jason led the way up one flight of stairs and into another wing of the building, then stood back and let Cheryl precede him into the teacher’s lounge. When they both had a mug full of the sub-par coffee they took a seat at one of the dozen round tables. It was full at the lunch hour, all the teachers not on cafeteria duty congregating to eat their sandwiches and bitch about their day.

  Though Cheryl had been in the school for two weeks now, this was the first time she’d come to the lounge. All the other days she’d begged off to prep for the classes she was teaching. He was inordinately pleased that she was joining him today. Somehow he always wanted more time with her.

  There were several other teachers at their table and Jas
on introduced her, then kept quiet as they all took turns asking the usual questions – how was she liking it so far, how was Jason treating her, etc.

  The two men at the table, both middle-aged, one married, one recently divorced, leaned toward her, listening avidly to her cautious replies. But who could blame them, really? She was like some rare flower springing up in a dreary parking lot. Even with her hair pulled back and little or no makeup, there was no disguising how pretty she was. She was too vibrant to fade into the background.

  “Where are you from?” Hank, the divorced one, asked.

  “Ohio,” she replied. “But I’ve been out here for over six years now.”

  Jason sat up straight. Why didn’t he know that? Had he really never asked such a basic question?

  “What brought you out here?” asked Tom, the married one.

  Cheryl’s expression turned guarded and her shoulders tensed ever so slightly. “Someone I knew in high school moved out here and told me how easy it was to get a job, so off I went.”

  “Lucky for us,” quipped Hank, and Jason had the unpleasant realization that Hank could flirt with her but he couldn’t.

  The thought didn’t sit well.

  He tried to shake off his annoyance over how the men were reacting to her. He couldn’t blame them, and anyway she certainly wasn’t flirting back. She did start asking them a lot of questions, but he got the sense that was more to divert attention away from herself.

  Observing her like this, he got the feeling there was a lot going on under the surface. He’d seen how passionate she was when she wasn’t feeling self-conscious, but it was obvious she didn’t like talking about herself. Still, they were spending so much time together, he was bound to find out more about her. Until then he’d just have to be patient.

  ***

  “Come on, Candy, don’t do this to me,” Cheryl begged, once again trying to start her car.

  It was after five and it had been a long day. All Cheryl wanted was to go home, have an iced tea and close her eyes for a few minutes before starting on her work. But Candy was having none of it. The car emitted a sick, grinding noise and refused to turn over.