Another new story, another new series. All
characters are over the age of 18. I hope you enjoy!
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Mike Nicholson was forty four and had been a teacher for 19 years when he became the type of person he had always looked down upon. He had always considered teachers, men and women, who got romantically involved with students to be the worst kind of people. People who lacked self awareness, self control, and a basic sense of decency.
He taught English and, by every measure, he was good at his job. He engaged his classes and, if he didn't impart a love of writing and literature to all of his students, it was rare that he was not able to at least elicit a grudging respect out of even the least interested.
He had friends who teased him; joking that they did not understand how he could be surrounded by young women every day and not see them as the budding sexual objects they often presented themselves as. 'Mike,' they would say. 'How can you control yourself?' He had to shake his head. It was not, he insisted, and believed, that difficult.
It helped that he was a happily married man, an adult and a professional.His students were too young and too immature to catch his eye. Sure, once they turned 18 it was more difficult not to see the girls as women. They knew they were reaching adulthood, and made efforts to let everyone know. Dressing more provocatively. Flirting more openly with everyone including male teachers like himself. Mike had, however, always been able to resist.
It probably helped that he had a daughter of his own. June had gone to the school where he taught, so it was hard to view the girls differently than he saw his own daughter. He was not comfortable with other men looking at June in a sexual way, so he did not do that to other men's daughters.
That year, however, June was no longer a highschool student. It was hard for Mike to believe but she was already 20, graduated, and living in a dorm at college a half day drive away. This left only Mike and his wife Paula alone in their small house in the city.
Paula and Mike had gotten married young. He had been 24, starting his first job. She was only 21. They had been dating for a while, madly in love. When she told Mike she was pregnant he immediately asked her to marry him and never regretted that decision. Even all these years later, he thought she was beautiful with her black hair, dyed to hide the greys, and brown eyes. She exercised regularly and kept in shape, maintaining, as best she could, her college athlete's body. While their sex life had gotten more predictable and sparse, often an afterthought rather than something they prioritised, he was still attracted to her.
Mike had tried to take care of himself as well. He did not like going to the gym and working out with weights, but he did enjoy running and going for rides on his bike. He liked hiking, and would often go paddling in his kayak in the lake. He stayed active and kept himself from developing a huge gut like a lot of guys his age. His hair was blond, kept neat. He wore a beard that grew in darker than the hair on his head. The chin, however, was going grey. He had light crows feet around his very blue eyes. By any accounts he looked good for his age.
Paula, after June entered kindergarten, had gone to school and studied to be an interior designer and had made a fine career for herself. She was highly sought after, making beautiful spaces for the wealthy. She earned much more than Mike's teacher's salary and together they had a comfortable life.
The two of them had talked about what they would do once June left home and had grand dreams of early retirement and travel. When faced with the reality, however, they discovered that we were not quite ready to stop working.
Paula had reached a height in her career that she was loath to give up. Not then, when she had the opportunity to travel for work, take on high budget contracts and even get featured in the best magazines. She was at the absolute peak and to walk away now, after all these years of hard work, seemed insane.
Mike, it turned out, was also content. He was good at his job and while it was long hours during the school year, he was able to spend the summers relaxing in their immaculately designed home in downtown. He was in no rush to change anything.
With June gone, however, Mike was a bit lonely. Paula travelled quite a bit for work, which left Mike on his own. He did not mind that too much. He was always a bit of an introvert, preferring his own company to that of others. He did miss regular sex, however.
Paula's sex drive had seemed to wane as the years went on. She thought she might be starting menopause, early, but not unheard of for a woman who was just forty. Mike's libido, however, did not seem to let up, and at forty four he was still as horny as a teenager. He made do with porn and masturbation.
To kill the time when he was alone in the house he did a lot of reading, puttered around in their back garden, and watched a lot of movies. Still. It was a pretty solitary existence. Perhaps that is why he really threw himself into the school play that year.
This is where he got in trouble.
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Mike's favourite class to teach was advanced creative writing. It was only offered to those in their last year of high school and it was difficult to get into. Mike always had dozens more applications than the twenty spots he had for students. You did not have to have the best grades to get in, in fact several of the students he admitted were considered slackers or losers by other teachers, but they did have to prove they would take the class seriously.
They would have to do some creative writing. It could be an essay, a short story or a play. He would read them all and the ones who showed the most promise got in.
They worked on different kinds of writing throughout the year. Some of it was prep for college. Mike knew that most kids were not ready for the step up required for writing at the higher level and he did his best to prepare them.
The parts of the curriculum that he enjoyed best were the creative writing assignments. It always amazed him, the variety and quality of these kids' writings. It was a joy to guide and advise them, helping them craft better stories.
Every year the final project was to write something of their choice. They submitted drafts and Mike gave feedback until the final project. Some wrote stories. Some used it to prepare their entrance essays for college. The form Mike loved best, however, was those who chose to write a three act play.
Mike was lucky. He only had one extra-curricular activity he had to supervise. Some of the teachers were coaches of multiple sports, but Mike got away with only being in charge of the drama club. They put on a couple plays a year but the last one, the big one, was always a production of the best play written by one of Mike's advanced creative writing students.
The competition for that coveted acknowledgment was always fierce and each year Mike had several good plays to choose from. Once he had chosen one they would spend a month or so doing set design, practice and finally, at the end of the year, put the play on.
Mike's daughter had always loved drama and that was why he had originally chosen to supervise that club. If he had to shuttle her to and from practices he figured he might as well have more of a reason to be there. It turned out he really enjoyed it, acting as a producer and co-director to the kid who wrote the winning play.
That year, the year he was forty four, the winning play had been written by a girl named Ella. Mike knew her well. She had been around the drama club since she was a freshman, and had been a good friend to his daughter despite being two years behind her in school. Drama did that. Creating bonds across the grades.
Ella was a very good student. She had always gotten high grades, and was attentive and sharp in class without being a suck up. She was not the most popular girl in school. June had been several ranks higher in the tiers of school cliques, but Ella was not a loser either. When Mike saw groups of girls from her grades she was always on the edges of things, quietly hanging out. Likely she would have been alone much of the time if it was not for her 'twin,' Mia.
They were not actually twins. They did not even look alike. They just shared the same birthday and were always together, so people called them that.
