The first time I saw him was at a Parent Council meeting. I was there for a couple of reasons; first, I had nowhere else I needed to be, and second, I wanted to know what was happening at my daughter’s school. He was a teacher there though not technically my daughter’s teacher. One of the downsides of being a part time parent is missing out on information and as a result, missing out on an event or an occasion. So to avoid missing another award presentation, there I was, a little lost and feeling more than a little out of place.
Then there he was. Tall and tattooed in jeans and a polo shirt. Teachers did not look like that when I was at school!
“Are you okay?”
I turned with relief that quickly turned to stunned awareness. At first I though he must be another lost parent but then I noticed the ID badge around his neck.
“I think I’m lost,” I admitted then was left speechless by his crooked smile.
“Parent Council?” he asked as one side of his mouth kicked up. I nodded mutely and he held out a hand. “I’ll show you.”
“Thanks,” I said, so freaking eloquent! Then I followed in his wake and was impressed with myself that my eyes only dropped below his waist once. Okay twice, but the view was worthy of a second look. Not that it was a hardship staring at his shoulders either. The trip to the meeting room was far to quick and before I was ready we had stopped outside a door.
I could hear the sound of voices and laughter from within, not quite the sedate meeting I had envisioned.
“Good luck,” Hot Teacher said as he flashed that crooked smile once more then walked away, leaving me with a choice. To open the door, or walk away. I pictured my child’s beaming smile as she showed me her award, then her father’s dismissive shrug.
“A note came home about the presentation last week,” he said in explanation. That had been his week, so I hadn’t seen the note. “I told her you were busy with work,” he added later.
I didn’t bother telling him I would have made time, he knew that. Instead I was here, at school, ready to attend a meeting that would theoretically keep me in the loop of communication. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.
Nearly two hours later I was writing my contact details on a list along with half a dozen other parents who had volunteered to help with the yearly concert.
“That was more of a marathon than usual,” a soft voice drawled from my side.
“So that’s not normal?” I asked after a quick glance around.
“No sugar, Marcy was on a power trip tonight. I’m Nicole,” she patted my arm as I stepped aside and passed her the pen.
“Sascha,” I introduced myself.
“Well Sascha, a few of us meet up for a drink after one of these torture sessions. Care to join us?” Nicole wrote her name with a flourish and looked at me expectantly.
I gave Nicole a suspicious look. “Well Nicole, that depends. When you say drink, you don’t mean coffee do you?”
Nicole grinned. “Hah! Only if it’s Irish coffee. And call me Nic, all the people I drink wine with do.”
“I’d love to Nic. I’ll just have to run home and get my car.” She frowned at me, the question obvious on her face. “I only live a block away so I walked here,” I explained.
“Oh. Well good on you.” Her confusion cleared. “I’ll drive you then drop you home after if you like,” she offered.
I only hesitated for a moment before I said, “Sure, that’d be great.”
Nic was cheerful and chatty and well informed. This would be her third year on the Parent Council under the tyranny of Marcy Smythe-with-a-y who she proclaimed was a tyrant but got stuff done so was okay in Nic’s book. She then told me about some of the other parents, who I should avoid and who was okay.
“These here are the good people though,” she told me as we walked into a local bar and towards a table of around eight people. “Everyone this is Sascha, Sascha meet everyone.”
“Hey.” I smiled and slid into an empty seat taking in the friendly faces, most of them familiar from the meeting.
“Be right back,” Nic said then was gone, hopefully to the bar to get some drinks.
I’d taken the empty chair in the middle of a cluster of three so Nic would have the choice of who she wanted to sit next to. There was a vaguely familiar looking man to my right and a woman to my left. The woman leaned over the empty chair and introduced herself.
“Sascha right? I’m Gigi. Also known as Miss Sullivan. I teach Grade Three.”
Wow, I was hanging out with parents and teachers? I followed her cue and said, “My daughter is in Grade Five with Mr Moore.”
Gigi tilted her head and stared at me for a moment then she smiled and said. “Violet.”
I laughed and nodded my head. It was no secret my daughter looked just like me. “Guilty,” I admitted.
“Guilty of raising a lovely girl,” Gigi assured me with a smile and I nodded again.
“I like to think so,” I said happily.
“Here you go.” Nic leaned by me and placed a tray of drinks on the table. “This one’s for you.” She picked up a glass of dark mystery brew and I took it from her with a smile of thanks.
I sipped and was hit with a wild combination of beer and coffee.
“Coffee beer,” Nic said with a grin and took a drink of her own.
“It’s amazing, thanks.” I didn’t try to hide my surprise and took a longer drink.
“Have you met John?” Nic asked as she set her glass down. “My better half,” she added as she placed her hand on the knee of the man beside her. I hadn’t so I did but John was quickly pulled back into conversation to his other side.
“And Miss Sullivan?” Nic raised her glass at Gigi who rolled her eyes.
“Yes I used my best manners,” Gigi said as she leaned towards us.
“I’ve seen those manners,” Nic scoffed. “Teacher’s are the worse,” she added with an exaggerated eye roll. Gigi sucked in a shocked breath and Nic pointed across the table. “Look at Miss Green.” I looked over at a pretty blonde who was dabbing at the front of her shirt with a napkin. “Slob,” Nic proclaimed loudly and earned a glare. “And Mr Parker!”
Across the table a middle aged man in a white shirt looked over. “You didn’t even say hello.” He shook his head and smiled at her antics. “And let’s not even talk about Mr A who hasn’t even bothered to turn up.”
“Oh he was around before,” Gigi spoke up in defence of her co-worker. “You know West, he’s probably off flirting with some young thing.”
“Actually he was procuring food so you lot don’t get drunk again.”
The strangely familiar voice sounded from behind me, humour heavy in his tone.
“Mr A, we were just talking about you,” Nic said cheerfully, not looking at all guilty.
“I bet,” the voice murmured then a hand appeared in my field of vision and a tray was set on the table. It held bowls of hot wedges and chicken wings as well as a stack of napkins.
The chair beside me moved as Mr A, previously known to me as Hot Teacher, took a seat and Nic said, “Meet the newest member of the Parent Council. West this is Sascha, Sascha meet West. He teaches Art and Music.”
I looked over and said a casual “Hey,” and he nodded in reply. Then I picked up my coffee beer and took a big drink.
The next time I saw him was at a school open day, celebrating Spring. He looked at me his mouth tilting into that crooked smile and crossed the room to greet me by name.
“You know each other?” Simon, my ex-husband looked at me with a frown then turned his gaze on Mr A.
My mind blanked and I stared at West helplessly. What would he say?
“Why yes. We met the other day and I took her home where she gave me the best blow job of my life before I held her down and fucked her so hard she had bruises on her hips and thighs from my hands.”
Or maybe, “Know each other? Just in the biblical sense.” Then he’d smirk and walk away.
Or even, “Well we haven’t exchanged life stories yet but I know she likes early morning sex, the kind where you’re fucking before you’re even awake.”
“We met at the Parent Council meeting,” he said casually crossing his arms over his chest. “Your Violet is quite the talented artist.”
“Yes she is.” The agreement was automatic and the frown faded as West gestured behind us.
“Her painting is over there.”
Simon turned to look and West gave me a scorching once over then said, “Nice to see you again Sascha.”
He walked away and I noticed more than one set of eyes track him as he went to adjust some of the pieces on display. Then one woman approached him and another and soon there was a veritable swarm surrounding him.
Simon walked away too and Nic came over to stand beside me.
“Poor West,” she sighed. “Surrounded by Stepfords. If only there was someone to save him.”
“It doesn’t look like he needs saving,” I said, proud of how even my voice was. I looked over to see him sitting on the edge of one of the display tables, smiling and listening intently to the women in front of him.
I knew what those woman were feeling, the thrill of his attention, the heat of his smile, and I couldn’t blame them for flocking to him.
“Usually I would agree.” Nic’s voice broke into my thoughts. “But right now, I’m not so sure.”
I followed her gaze to find West not smiling at the women near him, instead he was looking this way, a grim look on his face. I looked behind me but there was no one there so I looked at Nic. “Is he angry at you?”
“Not me sugar,” Nic said with a low laugh. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” I answered quietly and not entirely honestly but Nic didn’t know what had happened that night. “I haven’t seen him since that night last week.”
I thought we’d parted on good terms after one night of no strings, incredible sex. There had been no plans made, no promises to call or talk later. Wasn’t I doing the right thing acting as if nothing had happened?
“Hmmm.” Nic was still looking at her friend curiously.
“Maybe he’s just had a long day?” I suggested.
“Maybe,” Nic agreed then shrugged. “Not much we can do for him right now anyway. Let’s go look at all this wonderful art.”
I followed Nic and we oohed and aahed over the creativity on display until it was time to go. Simon had long since departed having done his duty in viewing Violet’s art and I was standing with Nic and Miss Sullivan as they discussed whether or not they would go out for a drink.
“How about you Sascha, wont you come along?” Gigi asked, knowing if I went Nic would too.
Before I could answer West’s voice sounded from behind me, an almost intimate whisper in my ear. “Yeah Sascha, wont you come?”
continues here Hot Teacher 2