by Geraldine Hillis
"Miss Paterson! Miss Paterson! My pencil's broke!"
"Can I go to the toilet?"
"Miss! Miss! What's a verb again?"
"I've lost my jotter!"
Jenny Paterson rubbed her temples wearily, and surveyed the chaos that was her classroom. Twenty-nine eleven and twelve year olds could make one heck of a noise - as well as a mess.
A few of them, she had to admit, were at least trying to do the grammar exercise she had set, but most were rampaging around, hitting each other with rulers, and throwing paper-clips and occasional obscenities around the room. Some of the more literate ones were actually writing the obscenities on the desks.
At the end of her tether, Jenny did something to which she seldom resorted. She yelled. "Shut up!"
There was a stunned silence. A paper aeroplane sailed past Jenny's right ear, and she caught it neatly before continuing. "Now, 1D, I do not want to hear another word from you this period - I said not another word, John Allen -" as said child opened his mouth. "If your pencil is - the word is 'broken', Charlene - then sharpen it. No, Jason, you may not go to the toilet - it will be lunchtime in quarter of an hour. A verb, Daniel, for the umpteenth time - is a word which expresses action or a state of being - a 'doing' word, if you prefer. Kerry, your jotter is on the floor where you threw it. Pick it up and get writing - now!"
For fifteen blessed minutes, peace reigned. Instead of moving around the class, helping the slower pupils as she usually did, Jenny stalked up and down between the rows of desks, glaring at any child who appeared to be breathing out of turn.
At last the bell rang to signal the end of the period, and Jenny tottered thankfully to the staff-room. She threw herself disconsolately into a chair and sighed.
"Having a bad day?" came a voice from beside the coffee machine.
Jenny started - she'd not noticed the tall figure of Terry Johnston, the history teacher. "Oh - sorry, I didn't see you. Bad day? Every day is a bad day with 1D!"
He chuckled. "I know. I have them too. Never known a first year class like them in twenty years. Want a cuppa?"
"Oh, yes, please. With brandy if you've got any!"
"Sorry - hip-flask is empty. I finished it when I had 1D!" He gave her a grin, and sat in the chair opposite, handing her a steaming mug of coffee as he did so.
Blushing slightly, Jenny returned his smile and took the mug from him. She admired his strong hands, and wondered - No! She cut that thought off sharply. There was no way she could ever admit that she harboured fantasies about him - especially the kind of fantasies she had.
She knew she was weird - some would even say kinky or downright perverted - and sometimes she wondered if she was the right person to be teaching children. If the parents ever knew how she spent her evenings -
"Doing anything nice this weekend?" Terry interrupted her reverie.
"Oh - nothing much," she said. "Just resting up for Monday and the class from Hell again!" Naturally, she didn't tell him what else she'd be doing. Somehow she didn't think he'd want to know that she would be spending quite a lot of her time in a spanking chat room - probably conversing with a particularly attractive-sounding 'Dom' who went by the name of Lord Guildford.
"Me too," he replied. "Might go for a pint after school, though. Would you like to join me?"
Jenny spluttered and almost choked on her coffee. "I - er - oh yes! I'd love to," she said, as casually as she could. Good grief! She'd fancied the man for the three years she'd been at the school - she certainly wasn't going to turn down the chance of a drink with him, even if it wasn't a proper date.
The arrival of other staff prevented further conversation of any personal nature, and the talk became general
The afternoon passed pleasantly for Jenny. A double period of her Higher class watching a video of Hamlet wasn't at all taxing, and she was able to lose herself in some delightful - if rather naughty - fantasies, which had nothing whatsoever to do with the tormented Prince of Denmark.
Feeling rather like a giddy schoolgirl about to go on her first date, Jenny made her way to the staff room at four o'clock. Terry was there. He smiled at her and helped her into her coat, making her tingle as he touched her.
"Where would you like to go?" he asked.
She looked at him in surprise. "Oh - wherever you fancy," she said. "But I thought you'd probably arranged to meet some of the others as well - I mean -"
"No, I'm not really into going out with crowds of teachers on a Friday night. Do you have some objection to its being just the two of us?"
Flustered now, her words tumbled out in a rush. "No, of course not - I just thought - I mean I didn't think - I mean - Oh heck! I don't know what I thought! Let's go for that drink!"
He laughed, and opened the door to let her precede him. On the way down the corridor, she said, "You know, I agree with you about crowds of teachers. We're a boring lot when we get together - too much talking shop."
"Yep - which is why I avoid those kinds of gathering. But some teachers -" He smiled down at her, "- don't seem boring at all."
By this time they had reached the car park, and Jenny was able to hide her blushes by rummaging in her bag for her keys. When she'd found them, and recovered her composure, she looked up again. "How about The Aragon?" she suggested. "It's on our way."
"Perfect!"
They parked close to one another in Havelock Street, and strolled round to the pub. For ten minutes or so, they unwound, chatting about the horror of 1D, the incompetence of the Senior Management Team, and the sheer idiocy of the Local Authority. Then they took off their teacher hats and moved on to more interesting topics.
A shared love of literature and history was evident, and it transpired that they had enjoyed many of the same films. Jenny wondered if she should mention Secretary, but reckoned he probably wouldn't even have heard of it - and she didn't relish trying to explain the plot!
They finished their drinks, and Jenny rose to go to the bar for another. "Wait," said Terry. "We both live near here, so why don't we take the cars home, freshen up, and meet here again - maybe have another couple of drinks, then go for a meal somewhere?"
She hesitated for just a second, then made up her mind. "I'd love to," she answered. "Say an hour?"
"Great," said Terry. "See you then."
On the short drive home, Jenny hummed happily to herself. Life was certainly looking up. She didn't go out much. Most of her evenings were taken up with preparation and marking for school, and of course, in the chat room.
In fact, she had an 'appointment' there tonight with Lord Guildford, but he had always insisted that real life should take priority over cyber, so he wouldn't mind. In any case, she reasoned, she didn't really know him. Like her, he hadn't shared personal details, and for all she knew, he could be a fourteen year old schoolboy - or even a woman!
Once in the flat, she showered and changed quickly, dried her hair, and applied make-up. A glance at her watch told her she still had twenty minutes, so she logged on to the computer and entered the chat room, signing in under her screen-name of 'Lady Isadora'.
Lord Guildford was there. Quickly, she explained that there had been a change of plan, and she wouldn't be able to keep their appointment.
Ahhh - he typed. That's good, because I would have had to cancel anyway. Something's come up. Are you going somewhere nice?
Just dinner with a friend, she typed in reply, glad he couldn't see the blush on her cheeks.
Lord Guildford wished her a pleasant evening; she logged off, and set out to meet Terry again.
They ate Chinese, getting to know one another over tiger prawns and aromatic duck with fried rice and soft, floury pancakes. The wine was crisp and cold, the coffee hot and strong, accompanied by Glayva for him and Tia Maria for her.
Terry watched her as she ate, marvelling at the change in her. He had always thought her attractive, even in her prim 'teacher' garb, but now, in a close-fitting green dress, cut low enough to be interesting, but not so low as to be immodest, her chestnut hair loose around her slim shoulders - she was more than attractive; she was beautiful.
He signalled for the bill, and Jenny reached for her purse. "No," he said. "I'll get it."
"Oh, but -"
"No 'buts'," he said firmly, giving her a look which sent delicious shivers down her spine. "I asked you out - I'll pay. No arguments."
She giggled and gave a mock salute. "Sir! Yes Sir!" she said, then blushed and subsided, wondering if she'd given herself away.
But if Terry noticed anything amiss, he didn't comment, but merely smiled at her and paid the bill. "What now?" he asked. "Fancy going to a club, or back to The Aragon for another drink?"
Reluctant as she was for the evening to end, Jenny had to admit she was tired. It had been a long and difficult week. Besides, the wine and liqueurs were having an effect, and she was very much afraid that another drink might loosen her tongue too much. She could never face him again if she had one too many and let slip that she was a weirdo who wanted to be spanked!
"Terry, it's been wonderful, but I think I really need to go home."
He grinned. "I was hoping you would say that," he said. "I think I'm getting too old for clubs anyway. Come on - I'll walk you home."
He took her hand as they made their way up Byres Road towards Queen Margaret Drive where she lived, and was both surprised and pleased at the flush which stole over her cheeks. Modest girls were scarce in these permissive days; he was pleased that there was at least one left.
They stopped just outside her front door. "I'd ask you in for a coffee," said Jenny. "But - well - the flat's a bit of a mess. I'm afraid housework isn't what I do best."
"That's ok," he replied easily. "Another time, maybe. For now - thank you for a great evening. I hope we can do it again." He bent and brushed her cheek with his lips.
"Goodnight, Jenny. See you Monday."
Her fingers touching the spot he had kissed, Jenny watched him cross Great Western Road, turn to wave, then disappear into the late-night crowd. She unlocked the door and let herself in.
Looking around the flat, she sighed. She'd not been entirely truthful. 'A bit of a mess' didn't even begin to cover the state of the place. Four dirty cups, two glasses and an empty pizza box lay on the hearth; books and papers littered the table; the couch was strewn with clothes, and a Coke can lay on its side, leaving a dark stain on the upholstery. A wine-bottle stood on the computer desk, along with an apple core, half a shortbread finger, and a spanking story she'd printed off the previous night. Good Lord! If Terry had come in and seen that, she'd have died on the spot!
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