Amy had been teaching at Marchmont Schools for almost ten years now, although you would never guess from her looks that she had even been out of high school for that long, let alone college. At 33, she felt like she didn't turn heads like she used to. Her husband always told her differently, but she used to feel the stares at bars, and had never paid for a drink in her life. Something about being the tallest girl in most rooms made men notice you, and if she was in the mood for a little attention, all it took was some bare leg. As she aged, she had begun to fill out a dress a little differently than she had in her teens and twenties. Dan recognized this fact too, although the two of them disagreed on whether this was a good or bad fact. Where Dan saw a bigger bust, curvier hips, and a nice shapely ass, Amy saw a higher number on the scale and a chance of cellulite. Her 5'10" frame made her curves all the more impressive, although she certainly didn't see it that way.
Trying on a red dress to compliment her long, black hair, she considered the woman in the mirror. From some angles she definitely still appreciated the way her legs looked, the way her breasts remained perky, and the curve of a womanly ass. But she craved the attention she used to get, the knowledge of being able to control any guy in the room, at least for tonight.
She decided the red dress was too flashy. After all, she was just playing the hostess. And it was silly to think that a group of high school boys would give her any attention. Shit, she was old enough to be their mom, technically. Marchmont had a reputation for excellence in sports, which the administration took great pains to continue. Many former graduates had gone on to NCAA fame, and the number of professional athletes with a Marchmont letterman jacket hanging in some closet was disproportionate to the school's small size. One of the keys to this success was a strict ignorance to the state's "guidelines" on age and grade placement. As a result, almost every senior at Marchmont was at least 18, and every varsity athlete this year was technically an adult. But 18 years old is a long way from 33, and she doubted any of these boys would care whether she was wearing the red dress or a clown costume. She'd just be another "mom" to them.
She settled on a simpler black skirt and top, with red heels (hey, she could be a LITTLE flashy, 33 or not), smoothed her hair, and did one last "hair, makeup, butt" check in the vanity mirror. If Dan were home, he'd probably make some Van Halen joke, but she'd have to do without tonight, as Dan was working late. Again. It was good for their bank account, but Amy missed feeling affection. It seemed like all they did now was work, eat dinner, and watch TV until they fell asleep. What a life, huh? Amy sighed, grabbed her keys, and exited to her little crossover SUV.
The basketball team had won the state championship. Fifth year in a row, and something like the thirtieth time overall. Every year, the coach threw a party to celebrate the season, but his little apartment was much too small to host the team. It would be just the varsity boys, but each year someone volunteered to host the party- generally one of the boys' parents. This year no one had stepped up, and with two weeks until the deadline, Amy made the mistake of mentioning in the staff lunchroom that their rental house across town was currently vacant. Coach Vargas pounced, and Amy found herself hosting twelve young men on a Friday night. Coach had assured her that they would clean up afterwards, and he would provide all of the food, so really all she had to do was unlock the door and make sure everyone found the place, although she knew she would stay for the evening (even if it was secluding herself in one of the rear bedrooms with a book).
As she pulled up the rental's driveway, she laughed to see two of the players already here. She had thought with the excitement from the win, and the time to shower and change back into their suits (Vargas made them all wear suits on game day- something about respect), that she would've had another hour before any of them showed up. Oh well.
"Hi Miss Amy! Thanks for letting us use your place," said Tim before her car door was even closed. He had always been an anxious kid when she had taught him years ago, and it seemed like nothing had changed. Except that now he was 6'2" with broad shoulders, but the grin and the sparkling eyes were the same.
"Yeah thanks Miss Amy!" chimed in Marcus, the other early bird. If it weren't for their height, there would be no resemblance at all between the two boys. Tim was a blond-haired, blue-eyed kid that looked like he just got off the bus from the Iowa cornfields, whereas Marcus was black, tall, and built like a tank. He had to weigh 260 lbs, but it looked to be all muscle. But resemblance or not, they seemed to get along great, at least from what Amy had seen.
"Hi boys. Coach said he'd be around in a bit with the food, but in the meantime make yourselves at home," Amy said as she opened the door.
"Oh, sorry- he didn't tell you? Coach can't come tonight. He's having the food delivered, but he had something with the hospital, and... I don't remember. But he gave us these for you," said Tim.
Typical Vargas, Amy thought as she took the papers. It was a non-disclosure agreement about the party: nothing that happened here was to be discussed blah blah blah. It was understood at Marchmont that if the students needed to blow off some steam, the older ones might have a drink or two while the adults looked the other way. A full NDA seemed a bit excessive, but whatever- Amy signed the bottom and added it to the stack already containing Tim and Marcus' signatures below the blank copies.
As she moved around the house turning on lights and checking the thermostat, the other boys started to arrive. Most of them brought a case of beer with them, and it wasn't long until the young men were tipsy and loud. Amy just rolled her eyes at most of it, and headed to the back bedroom to relax. After maybe an hour, the doorbell rang and Amy went to get the food from the delivery driver. She took the pizzas into the kitchen, and decided to eat with the boys rather than hiding away again.
At first the boys quieted down a little, and Amy felt guilty for interrupting their fun, but as the eating tapered off the boys' volume returned. Amy found herself surrounded by a group of young, strong men, and the fact that she was the only woman around sure hadn't escaped their attention. Although she was sure they all thought they were being subtle, Amy had noticed them staring at her chest and her ass more times than her husband had stared their entire marriage. She was sure it was only because there was no one their age present, but it still sent a little thrill through her to know that she could still raise some glances, if nothing else.
A young man whom she thought was named Lamar wandered over to her, and between bites of pizza asked her "So Miss Amy. What do you do for fun?"
"What do I do for fun? That's an interesting icebreaker."
"Oh, sorry, I mean... Hey. I'm Tiny." He certainly wasn't tiny- at almost seven feet tall, the starting center's nickname was clearly ironic. "Some of the boys and me were trying to figure out what to do next, so I figured I'd ask you. What do you do for fun?"
Amy laughed gently. "Well, I don't know. I'm sure my idea of fun is too old-fashioned for you anyway."
"Old-fashioned?" the boy replied. "Hey, if it's fun it's fun. Besides, you're not that old. You're like MILF age, not..." he trailed off embarrassed as his brain caught up with his mouth.
"MILF, huh?" Amy giggled in spite of herself. She knew she probably should reprimand the young man, but his embarrassment was too funny to keep a straight face.
"I mean... no, it's just... you're a really attractive lady. And I meant that you're not old. I mean, you're young." Tiny was rambling and turning slightly pink, and Amy placed her hand on his arm to reassure him she wasn't mad.
