“Jim, it’s Catherine. Please pick up the ‘phone. I need you to do something for me. Jim?”
I grabbed the ‘phone. “Hi, Ms Shillings. What do you want me to do?”
“Jim, in the drawers on my PC desk, third drawer down, there’s a folder labelled ‘Auto’. Can you find it and bring it to the ‘phone, please?”
“Hang on a second.” I went to the desk and quickly found the folder. I took it to the ‘phone. “Okay, I have it.”
What she wanted was a reference number from a previous service, and it was a matter of moments before I found it and passed her the information. Perhaps I was clumsy, but when I replaced the folder, I dislodged another which fell to the floor beside the desk. About to put it back I noticed that a photograph had slipped partially out, and a rather attractive portion of female anatomy seemed to be on show. Intrigued I slipped the photo out, and then gasped. Of all the things I might have expected, my tutor naked was not one of them!
Obviously taken outdoors, she was sitting slightly turned, her left arm almost behind her, her right at her side. Her legs were spread and she had the sole of her left foot pressed against her right leg, just below the knee. A lovely pubic bush shrouded her sex and her hair, longer when the photograph was taken, hung almost to the nipple of her left breast. I goggled in admiration at the picture, my prick stiffening in my jeans.
Fascinated, I opened the folder, never thinking I might be invading her privacy and gasped anew. More nude photographs, both artistic and explicit, and under those, more of her with a man in positions which could only be described as uncompromisingly sexual. I studied them, breathless, my prick becoming an iron bar in my jeans. Pictures of her astride a man, of her on her back with him penetrating her, of her playing with his prick, of her…. I was almost breathless, aroused, admiring. I spent uncounted time in just looking at those pictures, over and over. I never thought for a moment of these pictures being pornographic, all I could see was a beautiful woman, a woman I knew, a neighbour, indulging in sexual activities with her lover. I tried to ease my prick in my jeans and almost jumped out of my skin when she spoke.
“Are you disgusted, Jim?” There was anger in her tone, but there was a sadness, a sadness that was terrible to me, the sadness of betrayal, but also of something else.
I spun around at her voice, shocked. Shocked even more to see the tears cascading unheeded down her cheeks, I felt a sense of profound guilt. I shook my head wildly.
“No,” I stammered, “they’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, I wasn’t prying, they fell out when I put the other folder back.” I stammered into silence.
She held out her hand and I fumbled the photographs into the folder and passed it to her. Her eyes were distant, unfocussed, as she clutched the folder to her chest.
“He was my fiancé, Jim. Peter, his name was. We were to be married eight days after he was killed in a car crash. They are almost the only photographs I have with him on them. That’s why I kept them.” She paused. “They’re very special to me.” Finally, painfully, she raised her eyes to mine. “Now I suppose you’ll tell all your girl friends.”
Now it was my turn to feel the pain. “I would never do that,” I said vehemently. I laughed shortly. “Anyway, I have no girl friend.”
“You haven’t?” Despite her pain, there was surprise in her voice. “A good-looking boy like you, I was sure….”
“Oh, I did have, sure. But….” My voice trailed off and I could feel the embarrassment creeping over me yet again.
“Something went wrong?” she asked gently, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.
I nodded, feeling unshed tears in my own eyes.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head, ‘no’, but almost without volition felt my mouth open and my voice uttering forth.
“Do you know what the girls in school all call me?” I asked bitterly.
“No, I don’t,” she said quietly.
“Hot shot. You know why?” I asked, my voice harsh.
“No. Do you want to tell me?”
“Because I cum as soon as a girl touches me, that’s why.”
“I don’t understand, why ‘all the girls’? Did someone tell?” I was surprised by the rising tone of anger in her voice.
I nodded. “My ex-girlfriend, Alison Tandon.”
“I know her, I think. The redhead, two blocks down. Pretty girl.”
“Yeah, her. We’d been dating for ages, getting more and more intimate, but no touching ‘there’, you know?”
“Yes, I know. Go on.”
“Well, this night, she agreed to give me a hand job,” I said, remembering. “I took it out and she had a tissue ready, but I was too excited, as soon as she touched me, I came. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but I came all over her face and her blouse and she grossed out.” I laughed shortly. “She ran off home and her mom caught her sneaking in and went ape, grounded Alison for a month. She blamed me, and told it around school. The result is, I don’t have a girl or any chance with one at school. Some of the boys, mostly the brainless ones, mock me but since I busted the biggest one, they leave me alone.” I shrugged.
“Oh, Jim, you poor soul, no wonder you didn’t answer my questions about the Senior Prom,” she said gently. “Would you go if you had a partner?”
“I think so, yes. I just couldn’t face going by myself.” I laughed shortly. “I have the tickets.”
“Would you like me to go as your partner, Jim?” she asked and I looked at her, astounded.
“But,” I began, “you’re a – umm, you’re a teacher, you’re older than me, I mean….” My voice trailed off.
She smiled ruefully. “Excuse me for a moment, I’d like to introduce you to your date for the Prom.”
She went out and I sat, confused. Who? She had just said she would like to be my date and now she was saying she wanted to introduce me to someone. I mean, she’d told me she lived alone. I was baffled. I waited. She was gone for about ten minutes and I was sorely tempted to take another peek at the photographs that she’d left on the table, but I wouldn’t betray her trust a second time.
“Jim?” she called. “Sit on the couch and close your eyes, please.”
Puzzled, I did as she said and waited. I heard her coming in and moving to stand before me.
“Okay Jim, open your eyes.”