Author's note:
While it's not entirely necessary, reading the first part of Blue Jeans will help make sense of what follows here. All characters are eighteen years and older.
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Morning
Friday was "free dress day" -- no school uniform, just the uniform of peer pressured youth. Blue jeans. Jo's decision to wear skin-tight Levis, however, had nothing to do with blending in with the crowd and everything to do with the previous day's encounter.
Branxholm was just a small town with many of the students filtering in from numerous, even smaller surrounding communities. Buses disgorged clusters of rowdy youth in various states of expectation: friends and classes, love and conflict, all the predictable hopes and anxieties of teenagers. Jo's general approach in the morning chaos was bag clasped to her chest, head down, and make for class, drawing as little attention to herself as possible. It wasn't that she was unbearably shy, although that may have been the impression she gave; it was just that she simply couldn't be bothered. So much of high school was girls bitching and bickering while boys were all machismo strutting. None of which interested her in the slightest. Rather, she enjoyed the mental challenge of studying and the secret pleasure of fantasising about her physics teacher.
Through the staffroom window Daffyd watched the school day begin to take shape. It should be like any other, if it weren't for the uncomfortable fact that the second last lesson was physics with the senior class.
"What are the chances we'll escape intact?" Daffyd started and turned to find the source of the question. Vicki Morrison was the school's health and phys. ed. teacher, a small, restless bundle of energy, just a few years older than Daffyd but somehow war weary from her years of teaching. He'd guessed some time ago that Vicki found him both attractive and good company, and she often sought him out to share her mild cynicism. He grinned at her. "If you make it and I don't, please let my wife know I was thinking of her at the end."
Afternoon
She wasn't sure now. Earlier in the day, Jo thought she'd find some way to draw Daffyd's attention; perhaps ask lots of questions or volunteer answers, but now she was worried it would be the rest of the class whose eyes she drew rather than her teacher's alone. Perhaps it was better to keep a low profile.
"So you see, if you follow the basic principles, apply the appropriate theorem, and don't muck up your calculations, you finish up with the correct answers for momentum, acceleration and final velocity of the falling object." He drew a line under the problem and turned from the whiteboard. "You all got that, didn't you?" Daffyd didn't sound particularly hopeful, but who knew? Miracles might happen.
So far the lesson had been relatively unremarkable. Apart from some fidgeting and talking from the usual suspects, the expected head scratching and groaning from some of the less enthusiastic, Friday afternoon was rolling towards a weekend of respite for both teacher and students. He was relieved it appeared to be business as usual with Jo. Nothing out of the ordinary, no surprises; other than her too snug jeans, there were no uncomfortable reminders of the drama of the day before. With any luck, the bell would go and she would disappear with the rest of the class and out of his restless mind.
So why then did he inexplicably sabotage himself?
The bell sounded and she began to gather her belongings. Somehow she was relieved he hadn't paid her any more attention than he usually did. And yet, it was just the tiniest bit disappointing...
"Joanne, before you go, could I have a word?" Her head snapped up and she found herself blushing crimson.
Predictably there was a chorus of oohs, but they were half-hearted. Joanne Cooper was never in trouble. The teacher turned away to clean the whiteboard, confused with himself about why he'd chosen to speak with her. Behind him chairs scraped, kids chattered and the class emptied out. "Right," he thought, "make it quick, clean, and get it over and done with. Wrap this up and move on."
When he turned, he found Jo perched against the front desk. She'd put her books and belongings down, and stood leaning back and watching him, her coppery curls cascading around her face and shoulders. Daffyd hesitated for a fraction as he absorbed the full effect. She was so gorgeous. He'd always thought so, but had resisted the temptation to dwell on it. But now... She was petite, her small breasts shaping the tee shirt she was wearing, narrow waist flaring to rounded hips. In some respects she was a clichéd redhead, all pale skin, whipped cream with just the merest suggestion of freckles across her nose. Even behind her glasses, hazel green eyes served to complete the fantasy picture.
In the now empty classroom, she held his gaze. "Yes, you wanted me." Then she grinned and clarified, "I mean, you wanted to talk to me?"
"Yesterday. I told Karen-- my wife" (Keep it impersonal.) "about... uh... yesterday... seeing you... no, I mean, you know what I mean. And my wife told me about... your visit. I explained what happened, everything, and it was just an accident. So no need to worry about it. We're fine." This was going a little better now. "We can all just forget about it, right?" Daffyd smiled broadly to show no hard feelings, no concerns, all was well with the world.
"No."
"What? Sorry, what do you mean 'No'?" And for the second time in two days she had him off balance.
She straightened, her chin lifting as she held his gaze.
"I mean, no, it wasn't an accident. And no, I don't want to forget what happened."
"You... what?" He was floundering, trying to take in what she was saying, even as she pressed on.
"You didn't know I had a birthday last week, did you? Eighteen now. Just over two weeks to the end of school and now I'm technically allowed to vote, buy alcohol, all that stuff. Once exams are over, it's holidays and Christmas, then a brand new year." She could tell he was struggling to keep up, to work out where she was taking this. Jo shifted, placing her feet a little wider, leaning back a touch further on the desk, all of which had the effect of lifting her breasts and tightening her jeans even more across her crotch.
He was clearly unnerved, and Jo pressed her advantage.
"Daffyd..." Her use of his first name startled him, but even so he appreciated that she didn't mangle it. Her pronunciation was a pretty reasonable approximation of his father's Welsh accent, the thicker "ff" and softer final "d". All of which suggested she'd done her homework.
"... I'm pretty confident I'll get into Melbourne Uni. next year, so it's off to the big city for me. That is, I'm confident about getting into uni., not so confident about other things."
One hand dropped to her jeans, thumb hooking into her waistband while her fingers rested lower, pointing to the delta of belly and thighs. Daffyd's mouth had gone dry, and an unfortunate amount of blood was threatening to rush to his groin.
"I'm not sure what this has to do with me. My job is simply to teach you enough to get you out of high school and into whatever comes next."
When she smiled, Daffyd noticed the small dimple at the corner of her mouth. Her lips were the softest shade of pink, and for one insane second he recognised the colour of her nipples.
"You and Karen studied in Melbourne, didn't you? You two know what it's like." Jo's fingers moved, dragging her nails across the denim taut across her belly. The sound was disturbingly loud, drawing his eyes down to where she grazed herself. "It would be nice to..." She paused until his eyes came back to hers. "... talk? For me to learn a little more about..." And her nails scratched again, once, twice, three times. "... things?" Her voice was husky now. "I'm quite innocent about all sorts of stuff." The dimple reappeared shyly.
"Daffyd, I don't want to make you uncomfortable." She did want that very thing. The classroom clock was ticking manically, while the rest of the school had withdrawn to some far flung territory. There were just the two of them, caught in some unrehearsed dance, where a petite eighteen year old led and the teacher was hesitant to follow.
