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She gasped at my filthy suggestion but ground her body harder into my hand, urging me on. “How do you even know about these things?”
My hand could do naught but oblige the demands of her writhing body. “You always told me to do my research,” I breathed into her ear. “Did I do it correctly?”
“Good lord,” she moaned, her eyes rolling back in her head. I pressed, massaged and rubbed her in her aching places, while my other hand stroked her hair, her cheek, her jaw, her ear.
I was about to work my kisses down her neck and introduce her nipples to my mouth, when our delicious moment came to a s
creeching halt. The floodlights suddenly came on, seemingly lighting up the entire world as if it were the middle of the day.
It was in that harsh light that a startled Martha put a stop to everything once and for all.
“Stop,” she said, pushing against me and sitting straight up, her voice ragged and loaded with regret. Of course I stopped; what choice did I have?
I pulled back and watched her exit her back seat, both of us still panting as she stood and held the door open, presumably waiting for me to make my exit. I did, trying to meet her gaze but once again, my girl had put up a wall.
“Miles I shouldn’t have…I’m so sorry—“
“Martha, don’t—”
“I’ll see you in class Monday. And it’s Ms. Moody.”
9
Martha
By the end of this day I am struggling to keep my head held high.
I begin with the rescheduled staff meeting prior to the start of school.
I start off the meeting by telling everyone about my current situation.
“I don’t want any of you to worry, but we’ve had some pushback about the statue. Specifically, the Chamberlains are suing me. Not the school. I haven’t yet figured out how to respond yet, but I want you all to know that this is not going to include any of you, nor are my own legal costs going to have any effect on any of your budgets or needs through the end of this year or next. I got myself into this mess and I’m going to figure it out.”
Some teachers already have heard, some are surprised.
A discussion emerges about the winter musical. Ms. Fairhope, our kindergarten teacher who typically oversees the winter musical, pipes up. “As some of you know, this year our senior drama students have asked to completely take over the winter musical for their senior project. With Ms. Moody’s permission I’m giving them the green light. They’ve decided not to do a musical but to write their own play.”
One of the teachers asks if the administration will get to read the script before they perform it.
“I will, and of course Headmistress Moody will have the final say over the script, but we have a very talented group of seniors this year and I’m not worried at all about the content,” Ms. Fairhope replies.
Unexpectedly, Coach Judy, our women’s swim coach and civics teacher, pipes up. “Are we sure that’s wise? The last time we allowed children to completely take over an issue of the newspaper, we got a lot of negative feedback. A lot of trash was published in there.”
The journalism teacher, Mr. Clairmont, speaks up. “Wait a minute. That issue was very well received by the students and we won national high school journalism awards for it.”
Judy scoffs. “And Hadley’s parents pulled her off the journalism staff and threatened to sue, if I recall.”
Mr. Clairmont shrugs. “Well, her family’s firm is mobbed up with the Chamberlains’ construction business, are they not?”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘mobbed up,’ but that seems pretty inflammatory,” Judy replies.
The meeting is soon spinning out of control. I do something totally out of character then and check my phone.
A text from Miles is waiting to be read.
He should not be texting me. But despite myself, I can’t hide the small smile and the happiness that flickers across my face.
“What do you think, Headmistress?”
