High School Scandals

CHAPTER SEVEN

At school, both the girls acted as if he were some barely acceptable member of the establishment, and Dallas wondered what was in the wind. Certainly, there could be nothing wrong in their relationship; last evening had been swinging for them all, and now he was beginning to think that trio was the only way to go. There were so many different things three sexy people could do with each other. Last night, they hadn’t quite done them all, but they’d come close. And there would be other nights, he reminded himself, other sultry days when they could wrap themselves up in voluptuous squirmings.

Dallas wiped the blackboard reasonably clean with a pass of the eraser, and chalked the next reading assignment for his class: Listen to the Warm. He heard the buzz of excitement before he turned to sit in his chair. Checking his own copy of the slim volume, he found his eyes wandering as he sat behind the desk.

More than ever, the girls in his class looked like little dolls, but like sentient and lascivious dolls, ready for any erotic thrill.

Sliding his eyes over their sleek legs and across their trim thighs, their various sized tits, their damply intriguing mouths, Dallas wondered how many of these kids were fucking, if they all were involved in this new sexual freedom he could only be certain of two-both his new loves.

Yet he thought he saw something in the artistically slanted eyes of Susan Lee, the golden skinned Korean girl. Susan was only fifteen years old, a year ahead of her age bracket in school, very bright and studious. She was also neatly stacked, with high, firm tits and flashing legs.

Then there was Blythe Jackson, moving now to the pencil sharpener; he already knew. most of her vital stats five feet three inches tall, 97 pounds, a platinum blonde with pale blue eyes, with skin like rosy silver, dusted ever so lightly, with cream. Blythe flaunted it when she walked, rolling her hips to the primal rhythm of a secret tom-tom.

And what had Kathy said about the pad they rented out on the outskirts of town?

He didn’t remember hearing her mention how many of the kids were in on it, but there was undoubtedly a goodly percentage. Girls and boys alike, he thought, and this piqued his interest further, as he wondered who was screwing whom.

Dallas grinned to himself as he thought that they were probably changing around quite often.

He found himself staring at Kathy, and she merely blinked at him, then turned her attention back to her book of poetry. Was the girl ignoring him. Dallas knew a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He sure as hell didn’t want these beautiful kids cutting him out of their lives now; they had turned his own life into something new, exciting, made it worthwhile.

When the bell rang, he halfway expected Kathy to linger at his desk, but when she passed by, he looked for Angel. The black girl swung on through the door without a backward look, her fine little ass bobbing tantalizingly. Dallas sighed and closed his book, then started to tidy his desktop. He glanced up to see a boy slide a folded note across to him. His eyes followed the kid from the room. Joey Nottingham, tall and deceptively lean, was one hell of a defensive end on the school varsity. Joey was also black.

Kids yelled and laughed in the hall as Dallas unfolded the note to scan it.

“Meet us at the pad,” the note read, “but be careful; leave your bug in front of your house, walk around back and Joey will pick you up in his car. Like eight o’clock, darling. Oh, P.S.: Daddy has hired a private detective to watch you, and there just might be a fink in the class, and that’s why we’re putting you down. But we’ll make up for it tonight.”

Dallas shook his head, and read the note again, more slowly this time. It still said the same things, and the fact that stood out was that Craig Collins had hired someone to watch everything Dallas Bradburn did. That was going to make It exceedingly rough for him to continue his swinging association with the kids; he’d have to be damned careful, every move he made, and his telephone…

Tearing the note into tiny strips, he scattered its confetti throughout his wastebasket, feeling like some kind of secret agent, feeling more than a little pissed off.

Leaving his office behind, he looked in his box at the mail center, fully expecting some directive from the principal. His box was empty, and he thought that Kingston might be backing off, after that little hassle with the coach.

But possibly Kingston knew of the private eye following Dallas, and was simply awaiting developments Dallas glanced around the empty cubicle, expecting to see some visible sign of a net closing in. Grinning he carried his briefcase down the corridors now almost emptied of students, and made his way across the parking lot to his VW.

Nobody else seemed to be in sight, which was a little strange at this time of day when teachers ought to be hurrying home.

He was just opening the car door when she came around the hood of the station wagon parked nearby. “Dallas-oh, Dallas! May I speak with you?”

The biology teacher, the clinical lady who used better English than the English teacher; he straightened up and watched her approach. Selena Johnstone, neat and tidy as ever, not a hair out of place, the practical suit she wore without a wrinkle, but for all of that, she looked pretty good. Or maybe because of all that, he thought; it was possible he wasn’t one of those guys who wanted a woman all plastic and shiny, just so he could muss her. Only, mussing Selena had been a problem, so he’d stopped trying.

“Dallas, I’m glad I caught you. I’ve been wanting to talk with you, and-must we stand out here? May we sit in your car?”

He nodded. “Sure,” and didn’t go around to the other side and open that door of the VW for her. He didn’t do it because he had always done it, and because she expected it of him now.

Selena waited, a fraction of a moment, then strode around and climbed in, without even a disapproving glance at him. When he sat down, she said, “Dallas-you’re too intelligent to get yourself into something like this. Next year, the university has an opening for an English professor, and by persisting in this-this ridiculous behavior, you won’t even be considered for it.”

He pursed his lips and wished that she didn’t have such good, long legs. “You have advance information? Yeah, I guess so; if the stick doesn’t work, try the carrot. But you know what? I like these kids; I dig them. I think I’ll be teaching them next year, and the year after that, if I decide to.”

She made an exasperated sound. “The faculty is having a meeting right now, Dallas; only you and I have been excluded, and I’m a messenger. The rest of the teachers are considering what to do about you. Your contemporaries, Dallas-your peers.”

“Mostly, just my acquaintances,” he said. “You’re the only friend I have among them, Selena.” It was funny to look her over, he thought, for him to see her tits through her blouse and the crisp curling of her pubic hair through her skirt, and not to be excited.

Selena had a great body, all sweeps and ripe valleys, but she used it-or allowed it to be used with such detachment that he felt, she had never really been involved with their screwing. She was still a technical virgin, he thought, and wondered If she had ever come.

She said, “You can have a future, Dallas. I saw that in you immediately, and I thought we could make a fine team of teachers and we still can, dear-If you simply listen to reason. Or to me, as a woman who loves you.”

It was the first time she’d said love, he thought; In all their couplings, through all their properly positioned fuckings, neither of them had ever said:

I love you. He now decided that wasn’t so strange; they didn’t love each other now, and never had.

“Selena,” he said, “would you go down on me?”

Her eyes went wide behind her rimless glasses.

“W-what did you say?”

“I said would you go down on me; give me head, suck me off, give oral sex?”

Her hands clenched on her knees, the knuckles turning pale. “Of course not.

That’s a terrible thing to say. Are you sober, Dallas? Or perhaps you’ve going all the way with this identity thing, and smoking pot, too.”

He said softly, “I never ate you, either. I never thought about it.”

Her eyes flashed at him. “Are you going to harp on such-such perversion? Maybe I never really understood you, Dallas. But I’m willing to forget this nonsense and try again.”

“Providing,” he said, “I get a haircut and shave my moustache and genuflect to our own little Mecca, twice daily and without fail.”

Selena said, “It’s not like that at all. You’re twisting things.”

“Oh shit,” he said. “I’m going home, Selena. May I drop you anywhere?”

Swiftly, she ducked out of the car. “I’m genuinely sorry, Dallas.”

He only shrugged, abut when he was driving away, said softly, “I’m not sorry at all.” He said it softly and late because there was no sense in hurting Selena Johnstone; she had already done enough damage to herself.

When he parked the bug in his own driveway, he remembered that he was most likely being followed, and that his scene with Selena had also been seen, if not acoustically monitored. At least, the guy had gotten an earful. Whistling, making a show of gathering his briefcase and books, Dallas went into his place and flicked on a light.

Only for a few moments did he consider breaking the date Kathy had set up for them. Of course, that would be the logical thing to do, but he wasn’t being logical any more. He was doing what felt right, and to hell with anything else.

So he took a quick shower, grabbed a sandwich and downed two beers, all done with the TV on and turned louder than usual. Planting open books on a table, Dallas switched on another light, then slipped into a jumpsuit and tennis. He was out of the back door and across the-busy yard in seconds. On the next street, a restored T-Bird waited-Joey Nottingham’s car.

They eased off into gathering shadows, and Joey said, “Be a low rider, man-scrunch down so anybody can see only the top of your head. We’ll be at the pad in a few minutes; going in the back way this time, through the woods and turn around.”

Dallas slumped low in his seat. “I appreciate this, Joey. If I’m being watched …”

Joey laughed. “You never saw that big dude in the parking lot? He’s got fuzz marked all over him. You’re being watched, all right. But the dude is back at your house now; gonna’ be there awhile, too.”

Dallas had to grin these kids were sharp in so many ways. He was glad they were his Mends.

“Party night,” Joey said. “Not a real big one, just a few couples. The chicks said you had to be there, man. There’s the cutoff, through the bushes-if I don’t scratch up my paint.”

“Party?” Dallas asked, sitting erect as they, turned off into the woods.

“Yeah,” Joey gunned “Friday night man, no school tomorrow.”

The week had whizzed by for Dallas, what with his new and fascinating activities; he hadn’t realized the weekend was here.

The house was quiet, and even though Dallas listened hard, he could make out only the soft music of a radio or stereo, turned down to establishment sound level. There was a murmur of voices, but no more than that around some dinner table. If there was a group of kids inside, they were holding it down. Dallas looked around and made out the vague shapes of only two cars, tucked discreetly behind the house, their grills pointing out.

Joey turned the knob and motioned him inside the door. Dallas went quickly, blinking in the soft yellow, light. They moved through the kitchen and he caught the odor of grass, but nobody was smoking when he and Joey went into the living room.

“Hey,” Kathy said, “I told you guys he’d make it.” She was naked, and light gentle as candlelight gleamed in the enticing nest of her pubic hair as she came toward him with arms outstretched. Angel Matthews was a step behind her, polished ebony and eagerness. They took turns kissing him and working at his jumpsuit.

When they stepped back with his clothing, when he stood bare-assed as any of them, he began to recognize faces. There was the silvery blonde girl, Blythe Jackson, a pale flame in the semi-darkness of the room. And little saucy Susan Lee, golden skinned and beautiful, her sloe eyes tilting up at him with that hotly Innocent look; he saw that she had only a wisp of hair on her young pussy.

Four girls then; four, lovely and sensuous kids ready to screw and to be screwed by as many males. Dallas’s eyes made a swift count of the others-Marty Brooke, the lanky kid who never lacked for pretty girls, and Eric Fairmount, the Nordic example of a big man on campus, blonde and blue eyes. And of course, Joey Nottingham, and, the only person in the house old enough to vote, Dallas Bradburn, who was excited to the point of raising a hard, but a little scared, too.

Kathy saw his confusion and laughed. “Teach is a little jumpy, kids. But after all, this is his first orgy.”

They laughed around him, with him, but not at him, and there was the big difference. They accepted him, wanted him to be one with them, to swing with them in that glorious kind of utter freedom. Dallas reached out his arms and gathered in the other girls, pressing the longer, slim length of the willowy blonde close to his straining flesh, feeling the always adapting softness of the little Korean chick caress his skin.

“He said, “I love you both. I love you all.”

“Yeah,” they applauded, and danced with him, kissed him with the fleeting newness of their honeyed mouths.

Kathy Collins said, “Okay-I won’t be greedy. You chicks can screw him first, while Angel and I ball these other guys. But don’t wear out my lover, right?

Save some for me.”

Small hands pushed Dallas down and back, and he stretched happily upon the old couch, ready for the fucking to begin.