High School Scandals

CHAPTER FOUR

His eyes ranged the room, moving from face to face, and Dallas tried to keep his voice non-committal, to hold it even as he wrapped up the lesson for the day. His class had been more attentive than he could remember.

And there was Kathy Collins, looking trim and delicious in a snug pantsuit that accentuated every nubile curve of her body. The outfit was a pale lavender, offset by the scintillating color of her hair and the deeper shading of her eyes. Dallas looked away, and found his interest trapped briefly by the black velvet face of Angel Matthews, held by the sloe and softly liquid eyes of the girl.

Hesitating he cleared his throat and walked around the speaker’s stand he favored. Today’s lecture had been on Shakespeare, and they had listened, really listened. But now a hand went up-Angel Matthews.

“Yes,” he said.

“Mr. Bradburn.” Her voice was liquid, too-a honeyed and sultry tone poem. “Can we study modern poets, too? I mean, Shakespeare is okay, I guess, but some of us dig more relevant poets.”

“Like?” he prompted.

“Rod McKuen, maybe.”

Dallas said, “Ah yes; Listen To The Warm.”

Her eyebrows went up. “You know him.”

“Fresh and articulate,” he said, watching Kathy now, seeing approval mirrored in her eyes. “A fine poet, and I see no reason we can’t study him, compare him to the Bard. If any students have more of his books…”

“I have, Mr. Bradburn.” It was the football player. Eric Fairmont rarely spoke up in class. “Want me to bring it tomorrow?”

Dallas nodded and grinned at them as the bell rang. They piled out of the room talking animatedly, and two hung back. They complemented each other perfectly, he thought-red-haired Cathy and ebony Angel.

Kathy said, “That was great, teacher. I mean opening up the class to Rod McKuen. Some of the parents think he’s dirty.”

Angel said softly, “I don’t.”

A quick thought flashed through Dallas’s head: he saw the girl, the black girl, stripped down, her ripening young body agleam with special oils, her nipples standing out like two dark raisins, and her pubic mound shining…

Kathy said swiftly, “See you this evening. Your place.”

They were gone before he could form a protest. Damn, he thought; if he kept meeting the girl, he was as much as laying his head on the chopping block.

Every time he saw her, each long screwing session they spent together, increased his odds of being caught. But the very thought of her naked and writhing made him shove all the logical considerations aside.

It dawned on him that Kathy had made the date while Angel was standing by, and the black girl had heard it. Was Kathy flipping out? Or was she just showing off her conquest to her friend? That was a dangerous move for the girl to make, and there was no way for him to stop it-unless he simply broke it off, the entire torrid affair.

Dallas wasn’t certain he could do that; not yet, anyway. He gathered his books and left the classroom. Early in the day he’d gotten a notice from the principal to report to the gym after class, where he “might be of some use in assisting the coach.” The harassment had begun, true to Kingston’s threat; extra jobs would pile up; time consuming duties that were supposed to make him angry enough to resign would eat away at his free hours.

Moving down the hallway and turning for the gym, Dallas wondered why he didn’t quit, why he didn’t tell Kingston to shove his job up his ass. He hadn’t spent a lot of money since the divorce, and he had a few bucks saved. Out on the coast, things were looser, and by now he might be able to find a pretty good place at a junior college.

It was just the idea, damnit. Who the hell were the yingyangs on the school board; who the hell was old Kingston, to dictate the length of Dallas Bardburn’s hair, and to proscribe a cleanly shaven upper lip?

It had been just a whim, to start growing the halt Maybe he wanted to feel more individual, or perhaps he’d reached the point where he’d stopped feeling sorry for himself and was ready to become part of the real world again Whatever the cause, Dallas was prepared to stand by the result screw ‘em all, he thought.

Especially Kathy Collins? Grinning, he shook his head and sloughed off the down mood, thinking how damned lucky he was, fucking a gorgeous little chick like Kathy. He flashed scene after scene of her humping beneath his driving prick, of her sleek, small body twisting in his arms, her hard tits sliding across the hair of his sweaty chest. And there was the head she had given him, the softly pulling lips wrapped so hungrily around his aching cockhead.

Dallas turned into the gym, and walked across the polished floor of the basketball court. That was a mistake, because the coach met him as he passed under the basket.

“What the hell!” Coach Parnell snorted. “You don’t walk on that floor in street shoes, man. Damn it-look at those rubber marks.”

Dallas said, “Sorry; I didn’t think…”

“Yeah, you didn’t think.” Roger Parnell was a tall, lean man who carried only the hint of a pot belly beneath his sweatshirt. His head was shaven, and his nose had been broken.

Dallas tried again. “I never played basketball. Well, Mr. Kingston said be here, and I’m here.”

Parnell made an abrupt, beckoning motion with one hand and turned away. Dallas followed the other man into the dressing rooms. A couple of football players were just trotting out, and one of them said, “Hi, Mr. Bradburn.”

Parnell jerked a thumb at a bench. “Have a seat. You’re popular with the kids, huh? How come, man? You say you never played basketball, and I happen to know you’ve never been on a football field, either. How come you’re so in with the kids-because you try to look like ‘em?”

His books were on the bench beside him. Dallas said, “If you have a job for me to do, tell me what it is. Otherwise, fuck you.”

Rubbing a hand over his bent nose, Parnell said, “Yeah; a real wise ass. It figured.” Reaching down, the coach grabbed the end of the wooden bench and jerked it up.

Dallas hit the floor hard, with a jar that hurt.

But when he landed, he bounced, and came up lunging. His head caught the man in the belly and hurled him back to slam into the metal wall lockers. When Parnell staggered to one side off balance, Dallas hit him with a sharp left hook, then chopped his right fist into the base of the man’s corded neck.

The coach went down, landed on his ass with his feet stuck out, then fell over onto one side and kicked weakly.

Breathing through his mouth, Dallas stooped and retrieved his books. When he straightened again, Parnell was back in a sitting position, gagging and trying to keep from throwing up. Dallas said, “If this was Kingston’s idea, it was a bad one. No, I never got involved in sports. I was kind of busy in Vietnam. But when a guy is a Marine grunt, he takes care of himself, or he gets his ass kicked a lot. I didn’t get my ass kicked a lot, Parnell.”

He left the dressing rooms and the choking man behind. Deliberately, he walked across the basketball floor again, and took a different path this time, leaving another trail of heel marks. Funny, he thought-he didn’t feel pissed off; he felt pretty good, really. If that was Kingston’s first major try to get rid of him, the principal had blown it. Parnell wasn’t nearly as tough as he looked.

Whistling, he dumped his books and some papers for correction into the back of the VW and tooled the bug down to the drive-in. The cute carhop wasn’t on, so he walked to the window and bought cheeseburgers, chips and rootbeer, enough for three or four people. Dallas hurried home with the sandwiches before they cooled too much, and stuck them into his small oven.

Kathy hadn’t said what time she’d be here in his apartment, so he readied things for dinner, thinking that sometime he’d take her out to a real spread-a, long way away from town, where they wouldn’t be recognized.

He watched the early news on TV and ate one of the burgers before she showed up. She came quietly, hidden by the hedges and protected by the ornamental shrubs until she could scratch at his back door. But when he let her inside, she wasn’t alone. Angel Matthews was with her.

“Don’t look so shook up,” she smiled, lifting to her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Angel is my best friend, and if anybody has been watching me, she’s a real good cover. Wow! Listen to me talk like some kind of Mafia doll.”

He was stiff in her arms, so she let go and wrinkled her cute nose, sniffing the air. “Burgers? Far out.”

As she went to the oven, Dallas looked at the black girl. Angel was standing hipshot, her miniskirt just covering her upper thighs, and she smiled at him.

He dropped his eyes, saw the dark velvet of those well turned legs and gnawed at his lip. What the hell did Kathy have in mind, bringing her buddy along? It was bad enough yesterday, when that Brooke kid had probably been let in on the secret by driving Kathy out to the gang’s hidden pad. It was worse now, exposing him to this other young girl, and in his own home.

Angel said reassuringly, “Don’t worry, man. I’m no fink.”

“No way,” Kathy agreed, putting sandwiches on the table. “Come on, Angel-hungry time.”

“Now and later,” the black girl said, and Dallas blinked down at both of them as they casually started eating.

Dallas popped the top on a can of beer and drank it down chugalug. That seemed to call for another, but he took it much slower on the second.

Kathy said, with a fleck of catsup at the corner of her mouth, “We hear you bounced the coach around pretty good.”

“What?” He stared at them. “How could that word get around so fast?”

She took another bite of her sandwich, and her tongue made a dainty, licking collection of the catsup. “Oh, Eric Fairmont broke a shoestring and came back about the time it was happening. He says you kind of zapped Mr. Parnell, but that coach started it. Is it more about not cutting your hair, Dallas?”

He nodded and sipped beer. “Something like that.”

Angel Matthews said suddenly. “The bastards. What can we do to help, Mr.

Bradburn?”

Shaking his head, Dallas said, “Nothing, I imagine. They’re trying to harass me into quitting, but the hell with them. I’ve been hassled before.”

Kathy got up from the table, stretched in a way that shoved her small but lovely tits hard against the thin material of her blouse. She went to the door and checked its lock, then peered closely at the drawn drapes. Her next stop was the stereo, where she put on some albums. Hitting the overhead light switch, she left on the small lamp beside the couch.

“In case you’ve still got hang-ups,” she said to Dallas, and began to strip off her pantsuit.

He glanced quickly over at the other girl, at Angel, and saw her rolling her slim hips to get out of her miniskirt. What the hell, he wondered, then saw it clearly. They were going to swing with him together. Both girls meant to screw him. The idea burst within his head like a strobe light, giving off a great white flash of illumination, and he could feel his cock leap erect.

In his fantasies, he had often dreamed of fucking two girls, of having a pair of delightfully naked bodies crawling over and under his own. But even in Nam, where the whores were available and willing for the right price, he’d never experienced two girls at once.

Dallas stood uncertainly, his eyes flicking back and forth from girl to girl, seeing the now familiar but always exciting body of Kathy Collins, watching the new and intriguing nudity of Angel Matthews. One red-haired pussy, proudly set between slim little-girl thighs; one dark pussy, fluffed with wiry black hair, tucked provocatively between rich black thighs, full thighs, yet sleek and shapely.

Angel was a few inches taller than Kathy, and a few pounds heavier; she stood like a pagan bitch goddess, her feet apart and her tits arrogantly high, aiming the bushy appeal of her crotch at him while her hips made slow, ticktocking movements.

Fumbling at his clothes, he wondered briefly how he would go about it, if he would screw them in turn, or what. He had never fucked a black girl, and Angers ready cunt was drawing him to it, the magnet of her furry snatch beckoning the iron hardness of his swollen cock.

But Kathy was still as delicious as ever, still as charming, a pixie out of some highly sensuous tribe of fairies, ever ready to feed on forbidden honey.

They were both beautiful girls, he saw, one as desirable as the Other. He gave up trying to pick one.

Giggling, Kathy said, “You’re tried three times to get your shorts off; let me.” And as she pulled them down over his legs, she said, “Leave it to us, darling. Angel is just as eager for your fucking as I am, and you’ve never screwed her, so…”

They drew him down upon the worn carpet, a black velvet body and a white satin body, flashing teeth as they laughed, eyes all bright as they plunged into this new adventure. Dallas was trembling, his shaft up and out, hard as a vault pole and a hell of a lot less pliable. He lay back as they caressed him, as two pairs of quick, light hands slid deftly over his naked body, exploring the crevices of him, searching the hummocks and the planes.

Into his crotch they went, stroking along his anus and making flames shoot along the underside of his prick; The black girl kissed him then, and her tongue was a serpent striking hotly, striking wetly at him. Her panting breath warmed his mouth, and her tongue felt his teeth, over the roof of his mouth, along his cheeks. All the while, her firm, glossy body was wiggling on him, her tits against the left side of his chest, the nipples hard.

And on his right side, Kathy Collins was brushing the impossibly soft, deep and feathery mound of her humid pussy up,and down the outside of his thigh. Her ups nuzzled under his ear, then passed down his throat, and her hands were always busy, busy.

“Sweet, groovy teacher,” she murmured, fondling his balls, his scrotum. “Some of the kids thought you would be too old for real swinging, but I always knew you were hot and strong.”

The dark lips lifted momentarily from his own. “Me, too,” Angel said huskily.

“I always wanted to dig you, Mr. Bradburn, and here I am.”

There wasn’t a hell of a lot he could say, and Dallas didn’t trust his voice, anyway, so he kept quiet. Not still, because that was a physical impossibility; his entire body was flinching and shivering, his muscles going taut at the softly probing caresses be was receiving from both girls.

Damn, he thought; these kids were older and wiser than he was; they held all the ancient knowledge of sex, and were smart enough, open enough, to use It freely and fully. They had no hang-ups that he knew about, and they sure as hell loved to hick. He tried to relax and let them do as they pleased with his flesh, but his skin twitched when Kathy kissed his shoulder and began to lick down his rib cage.

And he heaved slightly when Angel stuck her wet tongue into his, ear, also knowing that his asshole bad snapped tight at the same time.