Being the phys.ed head teacher at an exclusive Australian private school has its benefits, believe me. I've got a fairly cushy job, good money, school-subsidized rooms in one of the halls of residence, and...well the rather attractive young ladies who attend.
Now before you jump straight to the end of my story, accusing me of some simplistic set-up and hackneyed scene from some fantasy copied out of a Penthouse Forum from the 80s, let me state quite categorically I have never ever felt any mad lust for the female students I teach. I've a fiancé who keeps me satisfied, and to be honest it's bloody hard to even countenance some shenanigans with a cute little Year 11 or 12 student due to the very strict policing of teacher/student fraternization by the school's principal. And let's not forget the cops take a dim view of a 38-year-old teacher doing something he shouldn't sexually with 18-year-old girls. But, this was all before I met Melanie.
Melanie had come to our school on a scholarship from country South Australia, where she had excelled in soccer. Her mother couldn't afford the fees normally charged by our school (her father had died in a farming accident when Melanie was only 6), but the local member of parliament was an old girl of St ----, and she had heard about how good Melanie was and thought she could score some points with her constituency by lobbying on behalf of the local athlete. Melanie had been caught up in the excitement like any country kid dazzled by the chance to travel to Sydney, and was not a little cock-sure about her ability. Her mother's doubts were assuaged by the M.P. who kept telling stories about the excellent sporting, academic and moral environment her alma mater offered. And, the final kicker was that aside from the financial benefit one of our recent graduates had just secured a position at the Australian Institute of Sport. I don't want to sound immodest, but I made sure that Cathy (my star in the state championship team of 3 years ago) excelled so she could fulfill her potential.
So when Melanie arrived at my staffroom office, with Principal McGlashen I wasn't totally unprepared for the kid from the back blocks who was supposedly the best 18 year old striker in South Australian girl's soccer. What I wasn't prepared for was how pretty she was. In her white blouse, red tartan skirt and sensible new black shoes and white anklet socks she was like a red headed Lolita. Not too tall, but certainly more athletically built than other 18 year olds, I couldn't help but notice the swell of a slightly larger than normal teenage bust. Catching myself before I stared too long, I welcomed the principal and Melanie into my office.
"Hello Principal...is this the star recruit you promised me?"
McGlashen smiled paternally at Melanie, "Yes Mr Daniels, Melanie Ryder is her name, though I know you already have her details from the registrars office. I want you to take special care of her...she could get this school back on the state champions scoreboard in a way not seen since 2002. And between you and me," (he leaned closer to me, trying but not really succeeding to speak sotto voce in front of Melanie) "we need good stories like Miss Ryder's to get some decent press and maybe drag in a few more wealthy kids."
I nodded agreeably, as McGlashen was a decent principal if a little avaricious, and of course he signs my pay cheques. Then, I turned to the girl who was trying to look uninterested in her teacher's conversation.
"Well Melanie...I've heard good things about you. But (and I winked at McGlashen as I said this), me and the team at St ---- don't give a lot of credence to P.R. stories from backwater newspapers or some self-promoting politician. It'll be in the classroom, and in my case on the soccer field where you'll need to prove yourself. Give me your best and I'll get you where you want. Slack off or try and slide through with minimum effort and I'll make sure you go back to your tiny dusty town and you'll only get a job as a check out chick. Understand?"
Melanie looked at me blushing, taken slightly aback. Her sporting talent and probably her looks had gotten her so far, further than she possibly expected considering her background. Now, she was facing a reality that was more intimidating than she expected. Of course I was laying it on a bit, but I thought from the get go I'd get her to understand who was boss.
"So...do you understand Miss Ryder?"
"Yes sir, Mr Daniels sir" she stammered in a nervous, light voice.
McGlashen interposed before I could say anymore, or look into Melanie's sapphire blue eyes or stare at her trim body. "Come along Melanie. Chemistry starts in 10 minutes and Mr Boznak doesn't like his lessons interrupted. Mr Daniels will no doubt grab you for soccer practice tomorrow."
I smiled at the principal, gave a curt little nod to Melanie, and then returned to my paperwork, as the two turned and then strode down the corridor to the science block. As I heard their footsteps receding, all I could see in my mind was the very perky look of Melanie in her uniform. Daydreaming about her naked gave me an almost instant hard-on, and it took at least half an hour of writing up Year 7 evaluations to cool my lust.
Chapter 2
Unsurprisingly, it took a little while for Melanie to settle in. Her first few weeks at St ---- was without a doubt a shock to her system. I heard some stories about how some of the rich bitches from her history class had given her the cold shoulder, and her English teacher Miss Jones told me Melanie's academic skills were probably half a year at least behind her classmates. But all her supervising teachers, when they submitted Melanie's first term evaluation to McGlashen committed on how driven she was to achieve something. And unlike her ability in absorbing calculus, William Shakespeare, ketones and Keynsian economics, she was a pure natural on the soccer pitch.
By the middle of second term we were running neck and neck with Our Lady of Dolours in the state soccer championship, with an impressive 12 wins and 2 draws. In almost every game Melanie had scored at least once, and in an amazing effort down in Wollongong on a wet and miserable Thursday afternoon she slotted home four into the net. Her talents both won her friends and enemies on the team, and as you can imagine some petty schoolgirl jealousies sometimes meant she wasn't given the support she needed on the field. But motivated by a combination of a desire to see my team succeed, plus a growing desire for Melanie, I made sure that any hint of ill-discipline or willfulness from Melanie's team mates was squashed with a selective words, the occasional sacking from the squad, and in the case of Eliza Phillips (the eldest daughter of a property developer on Sydney's Northern Beaches) when I heard her abuse Melanie in training one day I actually asked McGlashen to suspend her from all sport and extracurricular activities until Phillips apologized to me, Melanie and the rest of the team at school assembly. McGlashen raised his eyes when I asked this, but submitted to my request because he thought I was only doing what he asked for. Support in his drive to keep Melanie as a poster girl for school recruitment.
Now Melanie herself, well she sometimes looked at me or spoke in a way that was circumspect about how I was coaching her. She never complained about my endless drills for dribbling, took notes when we watched some video of each opponent team, and sometimes gave me a look that would kill if I took her off earlier than she wanted because I was trying to protect our best asset. Aside from a few 'Yes Mr Daniels' and the occasional pleasantries passed between coach and student after a win, we didn't talk too much. Then again, I wasn't interested too much in what she had to say. I was more and more obsessed with how she looked, how she performed on the field, and secret fantasies involving her and I fucking our brains out.
