13-01-2022, 05:25 PM
He watched her and saw in her eyes that she had got the message, the reaffirmation of his desire for her. The proof, once more, that only she herself was standing between her and that potential new future. If he was right about her then she would be giving that little comment a lot of thought through the weeks to come. The barriers she had built against such an irreversible commitment would be worn down and weakened once more. A little by his actions but more by her own feelings which would be given the right to flourish by his comment.
She was his. It only remained to make it clear to she herself and then to everyone else.
***
They lay together. Dee luxuriated in the pleasure of it. However, it seemed Shaka wasn't finished with her. His big hand gently felt her breast before his mouth closed on her. His tongue teased her hard nipple and then he smiled at her. "I love these."
"No kidding..." giggled Dee.
"I'm thinking you need some more jewellery."
He had bought her his hoops, his ring and her necklace. She loved them all and especially loved to wear them when she was with him. She felt a little regret every Sunday morning when she had to take off her hoops and necklace on the way home. It was symbolic of her return to 'real life', of her need to surrender her new existence and freedom.
Shaka reached across and produced a small box. In it were two small titanium pieces of jewellery. Were they ear-rings? "Soon as you've cut off that white boy husband of yours we can get you fitted up with these. They will make you look even more beautiful - make THESE look even more beautiful." He leaned down to gently lick her nipple fully erect again.
Dee caught her breath as she realised just what those little titanium items were. Jewellery that she wouldn't be taking off every time she went home. Jewellery that would ensure that she couldn't be topless in front of her husband without some very awkward questions. A new and startling commitment that he was asking her to make to her new lifestyle.
Her ears were pierced but she had never imagined having anything else done. It wasn't something that a girl, and later a woman, like her did. But now she found that she didn't reject the idea out of hand. She took the small box from him and examined the items.
She felt a little thrill as she did so. Each was a combined half ring and small bar. She could see how they would work and could also see the symbol contained within each half-ring. A black spade symbol, like the suit in a pack of playing cards, with a white 'Q' contained within it.
She had seen that symbol before. Georgia had pointed it out to her and told her what it meant. These would identify the wearer as a 'Queen of Spades', a woman that went with Black men. They would potentially identify her new self to anyone seeing them. It would be a permanent identification of herself and a permanent danger of her exposure.
That little thrill as she handled the small objects didn't go away. It was building. She held one of them up to her right nipple. She looked at it - imagined it in its proper place.
Shaka moved in. "That looks right don't it."
She couldn't help but admit that it did. Not just as jewellery but because of what it symbolised on so many levels. She imagined it. At home with David or shopping back in Ireton, even driving her girls around in he Odyssey. When all the time...
Shaka had been watching her. He gave a little nod. "I'll talk to Izeye - get it arranged for you as soon as I know you're deserving them."
When Dee looked back at him her eyes showed that delicious mixture of raw excitement and slight fear at just how naughty she was being. He loved to see that look in a white woman's eyes. Loved it even more when it was a beautiful classy little piece like this one. She really was about the best he'd ever had the privilege of taking in hand. She'd come a long way since the first time she'd walked into Silky's. Still had a ways to go of course but he was going to enjoy taking her every step of the way.
Tubman High
Pretty soon Dee learned that in most ways teaching at Tubman High was just like teaching at any other college. There were routines, there was paper work, there was the enjoyment of working with a good team and of educating students who were ready and eager to learn. Not all the students were so easy of course but that was also true of any college.
David had not been happy when she had told him of her new job. He'd looked up Tubman High on Google maps and had nearly blown a fuse. "You can't teach there - it's way over in the Capital!" She knew what that really meant.
She'd pointed out that his move to a new job had left her needing to find one. The local smaller suburban colleges weren't exactly flowing over with opportunities and she had been darned fortunate to be offered an effective promotion at Tubman High. Of course there would be extra requirements on her time and additional duties but it had been an opportunity too good to pass up.
What she didn't tell him was that the Taylor Foundation also seemed extremely 'liberal' in ways that might prove crucial in the future. On her first tour of the facility Dee had noticed the extremely well-appointed crèche.
The college Principal, one of the small minority of male staff, was quite open as to the reasoning. "We serve a community whose children need the best possible start. If they aren't given a vision for their future by us then there are many malign influences out there that will fill the gap. We select our staff very carefully - we need to know that they are motivated to help us fulfil our aims. We need to know that they have a stake in the success of our community. When we find them we are most certainly not going to reject them simply because they need maternity leave or need help with child-care. The Foundation has spent a lot of money on these buildings and their equipment but without our most vital resource, our teaching staff, all that will be useless. We cherish our team-members and, in fact, we have recruited teachers rejected from other collegeing systems for such reasons. Teachers with the highest credentials are always going to be welcome with us. Here we expect the best quality teaching from our staff and appropriate behaviour on site. If you're a quality teacher then the rest of your life is none of my goddam business - if you pardon the French. I've seen enough to know we need you on this team - there's important work to be done here and a real difference to be made. I very much feel that your place should be here - what about you Dee?"
Was David's pathetic whining going to compete with the deep-brown eyes boring into her very soul as Marcus Jones made that little speech? Well, hardly!
"You've always taught in suburban colleges are you sure you could cope with a college like that. Urban children would be different - are you sure you wouldn't be out of your depth?"
Well thanks for the vote of confidence hubby! 'Urban children' indeed - as if a five-year-old couldn't see through that mealy-mouthed bit of casual racism.
She knew what the real problem was. He'd had it way too easy for way too long. Frankly she wondered sometimes that he didn't want her to tie his shoe-laces for him. He now worked closer to home and he was going to have to step up. There was the question of her 'work training seminars' every weekend but they had become non-negotiable. She needed her time with Shaka - and with Shaka's friends.
Now they had to be a partnership looking after the children. She knew the best thing would be for them to move nearer to her work but David, of course, wouldn't have that. So he was going to have to do his share.
The evening duty hadn't helped. It was apparently something the Taylor Foundation liked all of its teachers to do, at least at first. It did mean she got to leave earlier a couple of afternoons a week which helped with the children. But David had not been pleased - he'd have been even less pleased if he'd known what Mr Jones had told her.
"Dee - one of our toughest tasks is keeping our people from gang life - offering them that alternative, affirmative, road. Every day here you will be doing that but we can do more, indeed with your skills you are perfectly suited to do more. We offer special mentoring to young men who need education in life skills of the legitimate kind. You will be making a real difference."
Marcus Jones was always strictly professional with his staff. That didn't stop Dee noticing just how handsome he was. She couldn't say no to him on this - she doubted she could ever say no to him on much about anything.
***
Dee had a lot of experience teaching middle and high college boys. She knew that an attractive female teacher drew attention from the older boys that wasn't necessarily related to what they were trying to teach. It came with the territory - most definitely not to be encouraged but nothing too serious either.
At Tubman High it was a little different. Children grew up fast around these parts. They also weren't nearly as shy as most of her previous pupils had been. When she was teaching the higher classes she was dealing with what were virtually young men, standing a head and more taller than her.
She knew the subtle signs. Here you saw some not so subtle signs. It was no sort of threat - almost flattering in fact. It was a peculiar fact that Taylor Foundation colleges seemed to employ a clear majority of female white teachers alongside a smaller group of African-American men and women. The boys had a lot of choices for their 'crushes' but even some of her colleagues laughed about how she was one of the boys' 'favourites.'
***
"So what we call ya?"
"What do you mean - I'm Mrs...."
Her voice was drowned out by the four young men's laughter.
"Shit thass what we call our probation officers. They all a bunch of fuckin' poodles. Can't be calling you that!"
"Shit no babe, a poodle you most certainly are not."
"Damn Malik, can't be calling her that - that ain't right!" The smaller one was laughing his ass off, nearly falling off his plastic chair.
The one with the slightly drooping eyes and a scar across his left jaw-line fluttered his fingers and the other three eased down the volume and after a few seconds fell quiet.
"See I'm Pops on the grounds that I'm six months younger but a thousand years smarter than these mothas. Malik is Malik cos his name is Malik and he got no imagination."
The one with corn-rows flipped him the bird in a friendly fashion.
Pops went on. "Quiet brotha chilling on the end - that's Bobo, cos when he was eleven he was out on the street selling genuine Chinese Rolex watches."
The quiet one, well the relatively quiet one, raised his eyebrows and gave Dee a nod.
"Finally, the little brotha whose been baggin ya - that would be Andre - called that cos his daddy was a big wrestling fan. Why he call you that again, Dre?
"Fuck you Pops. You know why - we been hangin for twelve years and more so you fuckin should. He called me that cos back in the day there was some poor old fucka called Andre the Giant."
Malik and Bobo were laughing now - just as they had every time they'd heard it over the last ten years.
Pops turned back to Dee. "Sayin' it again - so what do we call ya?"
Bobo gave a little grunt. "She a teacher-lady - call her Teach."
The others agreed to that.
Dee had been listening to the four men - noting their interaction, their familiarity and their apparent pecking-order. They were old associates - almost able to finish each other's thoughts. She'd also worked out the not-too-complicated naming conventions.
"So if you want to call me that it's because you don't think I can teach you anything..."
The four of them gave her little sardonic smiles and exchanged glances.
"Love to teach you somethin' tho, bet you'd love it too." That was Malik.
Dee didn't answer him - just gave him her sternest look. Malik seemed to enjoy it. Dee considered her options. She could call the session at an end but that would be to accept defeat and to show her new boss that she couldn't adapt to a tough situation. That would not do. She had to find a way to engage with them through the bravado.
"So why are you here? It's not a court order - you chose to come"
It seemed a fair question. The young men responded with a fidgety silence. Finally, Pops spoke, "We all a conviction off going away till our hair's grey and our cocks are limp. We all been in and out of homes and juvie since we could remember. It gets real old real quick - or worse it gets to be all there is and all there ever will be."
"Which means," said Bobo, "we is here."
"But it doesn't come natural," said Dee. She also knew that the confession of weakness hadn't come easily. These were eighteen-year-old men - full of spunk and braggadocio. Admitting it to someone they perceived as an 'authority figure' was even harder for them.
"This place don't help," Dre shifted on his plastic chair and looked around the small classroom. "Never did take to collegeing. Besides," his wicked smile was back, "its a fucking waste having to meet a prime dime like you in a place like this."
Dee knew the young men were testing her - checking her out. Well, they seemed to be checking her out in more ways than one. She'd felt their eyes on her every second since the session had started. Malik was sat with his legs wide apart showing an impressive bulge in his pants. It seemed his record wasn't the only thing he had that was impressively long for one his age.
"Where else would we meet?" It was out almost before she realised it.
A bright smile. "Know a little place we can get a drink just round the corner. Me and Dre got a crib not too far way too."
They were all watching her now, gauging her reaction. These weren't her college children, they were all eighteen and her current role was voluntary. Her 'job' here was teaching these boys life skills - 'using your skills and initiative' as Marcus Jones had said.
Dee raised her hand and let the lights twinkle on the rings there. "I'm an old married lady." She was careful to say it with a smile, careful not to seem censorious.
"You not old - you just coming into your prime baby," Malik was enjoying himself. "Be real dope taking a fine lady like you round town."
"An' you married - but he a white boy, that right?" Bobo chipped in.
"Yes, David is white," she admitted. She felt her pulse quicken a little - she knew what Bobo was going to say.
"Then he don't count. You wasted on him - you need a real man."
Dee reached into the top of her blouse and fished out her necklace. Gold with an 'S' in Black enamel.
"You with Shaka?" Malik said. "Shit."
Dee smiled and nodded - the power dynamic had changed in a split-second. It always did when Shaka's name was mentioned.
Pops shifted in his plastic seat. "No offense meant to him or you, Teach, we just shooting the shit you know that. Does Shaka know you doing this course?"
Dee nodded.
"Well, as I recall, Shaka ain't overly exclusive with his stable. Not like you his wife or somethin'. You got his permission to play?"
Dee angled her head a little and gave a little shrug. This did surprise her - Shaka's name normally had them running a mile. These four weren't running - they were still real interested. Just the rules of engagement had changed a little.
"Tell him you helping Pops, OJD's boy, and his friends. Tell him we take the lead from him - like always. Maybe if he gives the OK you can wear something a little more fun next week, not that college-marm outfit."
Uh-oh. Dee felt herself reacting to Pops. These four young men from the street were being careful about it but it was clear they still wanted her bad. She imagined herself 'with' them - what they would expect of her. She struggled to suppress a shiver of desire through her body.
"Oiiiyyy," she stopped and swallowed hard. She hadn't known her mouth had got so dry. She saw Bobo smile, a confident smile. "I mean, I, think we should get on with the business at hand." She raised her hand as Malik opened his mouth to make a smart remark. To her surprise he closed his mouth again. "We just spent ten minutes working out what to call me and another ten..."
She gave them a meaningful glance and watched them exchanging smiles.
"This is what we call an Introductory session. Where we get to know each other. So I need you to tell me about yourselves - your friends can keep you straight and off the BS."
Bobo chuckled a low rumble and Malik jabbed Dre in the ribs. Pops just looked her in the eye and nodded. She was OK - she was accepted.
"Then after ten minutes each we can have a quarter-hour when you can ask me what you like. Find out a little about me."
They liked the idea of that. They liked the idea of that a lot.
"Yes, we selected this four very carefully. They just need a little nudge, a little incentive," Marcus Jones had told her. She hadn't understood what he meant at the time. She had a rather better idea now.
***
Her new friend Chris let her change at her place. Chris and a couple of other teachers lived at a new development only a couple of blocks from the college. "When I changed my life-style my husband didn't approve - but it's real good here - absolutely, definitely, no shortage of baby-minders. Young Darnell loves all his Aunties here."
Away with her long skirt and carefully modest blouse. Away with her bra - though the panties would stay for a while. She'd learned how these things worked.
She buttoned up her tight top - felt her nipples already respond. Knew how they would signal her excitement to anyone watching, notably to the four young men who would be watching her very carefully. Then a black tailored jacket over the white blouse. She pulled on a tight black leather-style skirt that finished half-way up her thigh. She wore tan stockings with hold-ups and a pair of three-inch heels. She placed her papers in a smart black brief-case. Finally, she touched up her make-up. She never wore much but this evening she had to look just right. She placed her shoulder-length blonde hair in a simple pony-tail. Then she checked herself in the mirror
She liked the look - a P. A. for a very upscale employer. The sort of woman who wouldn't have ANYTHING to do with the likes of Pops and his friends. She had to admit that she looked pretty good.
Chris just giggled when she checked her out. "Adult education, eh!"
"You think they'll like it?"
The two women laughed together. Men were sometimes so easy to predict.
***
"So each time I will set you a few tasks and - in return - in time you'll get to set me a task. Sound good?"
Four pairs of eyes fixed on her, four smiles, four pairs of pants bulging impressively where it mattered the most.
Oh yes - men were so easy to predict...
End of Chapter 7....
She was his. It only remained to make it clear to she herself and then to everyone else.
***
They lay together. Dee luxuriated in the pleasure of it. However, it seemed Shaka wasn't finished with her. His big hand gently felt her breast before his mouth closed on her. His tongue teased her hard nipple and then he smiled at her. "I love these."
"No kidding..." giggled Dee.
"I'm thinking you need some more jewellery."
He had bought her his hoops, his ring and her necklace. She loved them all and especially loved to wear them when she was with him. She felt a little regret every Sunday morning when she had to take off her hoops and necklace on the way home. It was symbolic of her return to 'real life', of her need to surrender her new existence and freedom.
Shaka reached across and produced a small box. In it were two small titanium pieces of jewellery. Were they ear-rings? "Soon as you've cut off that white boy husband of yours we can get you fitted up with these. They will make you look even more beautiful - make THESE look even more beautiful." He leaned down to gently lick her nipple fully erect again.
Dee caught her breath as she realised just what those little titanium items were. Jewellery that she wouldn't be taking off every time she went home. Jewellery that would ensure that she couldn't be topless in front of her husband without some very awkward questions. A new and startling commitment that he was asking her to make to her new lifestyle.
Her ears were pierced but she had never imagined having anything else done. It wasn't something that a girl, and later a woman, like her did. But now she found that she didn't reject the idea out of hand. She took the small box from him and examined the items.
She felt a little thrill as she did so. Each was a combined half ring and small bar. She could see how they would work and could also see the symbol contained within each half-ring. A black spade symbol, like the suit in a pack of playing cards, with a white 'Q' contained within it.
She had seen that symbol before. Georgia had pointed it out to her and told her what it meant. These would identify the wearer as a 'Queen of Spades', a woman that went with Black men. They would potentially identify her new self to anyone seeing them. It would be a permanent identification of herself and a permanent danger of her exposure.
That little thrill as she handled the small objects didn't go away. It was building. She held one of them up to her right nipple. She looked at it - imagined it in its proper place.
Shaka moved in. "That looks right don't it."
She couldn't help but admit that it did. Not just as jewellery but because of what it symbolised on so many levels. She imagined it. At home with David or shopping back in Ireton, even driving her girls around in he Odyssey. When all the time...
Shaka had been watching her. He gave a little nod. "I'll talk to Izeye - get it arranged for you as soon as I know you're deserving them."
When Dee looked back at him her eyes showed that delicious mixture of raw excitement and slight fear at just how naughty she was being. He loved to see that look in a white woman's eyes. Loved it even more when it was a beautiful classy little piece like this one. She really was about the best he'd ever had the privilege of taking in hand. She'd come a long way since the first time she'd walked into Silky's. Still had a ways to go of course but he was going to enjoy taking her every step of the way.
Tubman High
Pretty soon Dee learned that in most ways teaching at Tubman High was just like teaching at any other college. There were routines, there was paper work, there was the enjoyment of working with a good team and of educating students who were ready and eager to learn. Not all the students were so easy of course but that was also true of any college.
David had not been happy when she had told him of her new job. He'd looked up Tubman High on Google maps and had nearly blown a fuse. "You can't teach there - it's way over in the Capital!" She knew what that really meant.
She'd pointed out that his move to a new job had left her needing to find one. The local smaller suburban colleges weren't exactly flowing over with opportunities and she had been darned fortunate to be offered an effective promotion at Tubman High. Of course there would be extra requirements on her time and additional duties but it had been an opportunity too good to pass up.
What she didn't tell him was that the Taylor Foundation also seemed extremely 'liberal' in ways that might prove crucial in the future. On her first tour of the facility Dee had noticed the extremely well-appointed crèche.
The college Principal, one of the small minority of male staff, was quite open as to the reasoning. "We serve a community whose children need the best possible start. If they aren't given a vision for their future by us then there are many malign influences out there that will fill the gap. We select our staff very carefully - we need to know that they are motivated to help us fulfil our aims. We need to know that they have a stake in the success of our community. When we find them we are most certainly not going to reject them simply because they need maternity leave or need help with child-care. The Foundation has spent a lot of money on these buildings and their equipment but without our most vital resource, our teaching staff, all that will be useless. We cherish our team-members and, in fact, we have recruited teachers rejected from other collegeing systems for such reasons. Teachers with the highest credentials are always going to be welcome with us. Here we expect the best quality teaching from our staff and appropriate behaviour on site. If you're a quality teacher then the rest of your life is none of my goddam business - if you pardon the French. I've seen enough to know we need you on this team - there's important work to be done here and a real difference to be made. I very much feel that your place should be here - what about you Dee?"
Was David's pathetic whining going to compete with the deep-brown eyes boring into her very soul as Marcus Jones made that little speech? Well, hardly!
"You've always taught in suburban colleges are you sure you could cope with a college like that. Urban children would be different - are you sure you wouldn't be out of your depth?"
Well thanks for the vote of confidence hubby! 'Urban children' indeed - as if a five-year-old couldn't see through that mealy-mouthed bit of casual racism.
She knew what the real problem was. He'd had it way too easy for way too long. Frankly she wondered sometimes that he didn't want her to tie his shoe-laces for him. He now worked closer to home and he was going to have to step up. There was the question of her 'work training seminars' every weekend but they had become non-negotiable. She needed her time with Shaka - and with Shaka's friends.
Now they had to be a partnership looking after the children. She knew the best thing would be for them to move nearer to her work but David, of course, wouldn't have that. So he was going to have to do his share.
The evening duty hadn't helped. It was apparently something the Taylor Foundation liked all of its teachers to do, at least at first. It did mean she got to leave earlier a couple of afternoons a week which helped with the children. But David had not been pleased - he'd have been even less pleased if he'd known what Mr Jones had told her.
"Dee - one of our toughest tasks is keeping our people from gang life - offering them that alternative, affirmative, road. Every day here you will be doing that but we can do more, indeed with your skills you are perfectly suited to do more. We offer special mentoring to young men who need education in life skills of the legitimate kind. You will be making a real difference."
Marcus Jones was always strictly professional with his staff. That didn't stop Dee noticing just how handsome he was. She couldn't say no to him on this - she doubted she could ever say no to him on much about anything.
***
Dee had a lot of experience teaching middle and high college boys. She knew that an attractive female teacher drew attention from the older boys that wasn't necessarily related to what they were trying to teach. It came with the territory - most definitely not to be encouraged but nothing too serious either.
At Tubman High it was a little different. Children grew up fast around these parts. They also weren't nearly as shy as most of her previous pupils had been. When she was teaching the higher classes she was dealing with what were virtually young men, standing a head and more taller than her.
She knew the subtle signs. Here you saw some not so subtle signs. It was no sort of threat - almost flattering in fact. It was a peculiar fact that Taylor Foundation colleges seemed to employ a clear majority of female white teachers alongside a smaller group of African-American men and women. The boys had a lot of choices for their 'crushes' but even some of her colleagues laughed about how she was one of the boys' 'favourites.'
***
"So what we call ya?"
"What do you mean - I'm Mrs...."
Her voice was drowned out by the four young men's laughter.
"Shit thass what we call our probation officers. They all a bunch of fuckin' poodles. Can't be calling you that!"
"Shit no babe, a poodle you most certainly are not."
"Damn Malik, can't be calling her that - that ain't right!" The smaller one was laughing his ass off, nearly falling off his plastic chair.
The one with the slightly drooping eyes and a scar across his left jaw-line fluttered his fingers and the other three eased down the volume and after a few seconds fell quiet.
"See I'm Pops on the grounds that I'm six months younger but a thousand years smarter than these mothas. Malik is Malik cos his name is Malik and he got no imagination."
The one with corn-rows flipped him the bird in a friendly fashion.
Pops went on. "Quiet brotha chilling on the end - that's Bobo, cos when he was eleven he was out on the street selling genuine Chinese Rolex watches."
The quiet one, well the relatively quiet one, raised his eyebrows and gave Dee a nod.
"Finally, the little brotha whose been baggin ya - that would be Andre - called that cos his daddy was a big wrestling fan. Why he call you that again, Dre?
"Fuck you Pops. You know why - we been hangin for twelve years and more so you fuckin should. He called me that cos back in the day there was some poor old fucka called Andre the Giant."
Malik and Bobo were laughing now - just as they had every time they'd heard it over the last ten years.
Pops turned back to Dee. "Sayin' it again - so what do we call ya?"
Bobo gave a little grunt. "She a teacher-lady - call her Teach."
The others agreed to that.
Dee had been listening to the four men - noting their interaction, their familiarity and their apparent pecking-order. They were old associates - almost able to finish each other's thoughts. She'd also worked out the not-too-complicated naming conventions.
"So if you want to call me that it's because you don't think I can teach you anything..."
The four of them gave her little sardonic smiles and exchanged glances.
"Love to teach you somethin' tho, bet you'd love it too." That was Malik.
Dee didn't answer him - just gave him her sternest look. Malik seemed to enjoy it. Dee considered her options. She could call the session at an end but that would be to accept defeat and to show her new boss that she couldn't adapt to a tough situation. That would not do. She had to find a way to engage with them through the bravado.
"So why are you here? It's not a court order - you chose to come"
It seemed a fair question. The young men responded with a fidgety silence. Finally, Pops spoke, "We all a conviction off going away till our hair's grey and our cocks are limp. We all been in and out of homes and juvie since we could remember. It gets real old real quick - or worse it gets to be all there is and all there ever will be."
"Which means," said Bobo, "we is here."
"But it doesn't come natural," said Dee. She also knew that the confession of weakness hadn't come easily. These were eighteen-year-old men - full of spunk and braggadocio. Admitting it to someone they perceived as an 'authority figure' was even harder for them.
"This place don't help," Dre shifted on his plastic chair and looked around the small classroom. "Never did take to collegeing. Besides," his wicked smile was back, "its a fucking waste having to meet a prime dime like you in a place like this."
Dee knew the young men were testing her - checking her out. Well, they seemed to be checking her out in more ways than one. She'd felt their eyes on her every second since the session had started. Malik was sat with his legs wide apart showing an impressive bulge in his pants. It seemed his record wasn't the only thing he had that was impressively long for one his age.
"Where else would we meet?" It was out almost before she realised it.
A bright smile. "Know a little place we can get a drink just round the corner. Me and Dre got a crib not too far way too."
They were all watching her now, gauging her reaction. These weren't her college children, they were all eighteen and her current role was voluntary. Her 'job' here was teaching these boys life skills - 'using your skills and initiative' as Marcus Jones had said.
Dee raised her hand and let the lights twinkle on the rings there. "I'm an old married lady." She was careful to say it with a smile, careful not to seem censorious.
"You not old - you just coming into your prime baby," Malik was enjoying himself. "Be real dope taking a fine lady like you round town."
"An' you married - but he a white boy, that right?" Bobo chipped in.
"Yes, David is white," she admitted. She felt her pulse quicken a little - she knew what Bobo was going to say.
"Then he don't count. You wasted on him - you need a real man."
Dee reached into the top of her blouse and fished out her necklace. Gold with an 'S' in Black enamel.
"You with Shaka?" Malik said. "Shit."
Dee smiled and nodded - the power dynamic had changed in a split-second. It always did when Shaka's name was mentioned.
Pops shifted in his plastic seat. "No offense meant to him or you, Teach, we just shooting the shit you know that. Does Shaka know you doing this course?"
Dee nodded.
"Well, as I recall, Shaka ain't overly exclusive with his stable. Not like you his wife or somethin'. You got his permission to play?"
Dee angled her head a little and gave a little shrug. This did surprise her - Shaka's name normally had them running a mile. These four weren't running - they were still real interested. Just the rules of engagement had changed a little.
"Tell him you helping Pops, OJD's boy, and his friends. Tell him we take the lead from him - like always. Maybe if he gives the OK you can wear something a little more fun next week, not that college-marm outfit."
Uh-oh. Dee felt herself reacting to Pops. These four young men from the street were being careful about it but it was clear they still wanted her bad. She imagined herself 'with' them - what they would expect of her. She struggled to suppress a shiver of desire through her body.
"Oiiiyyy," she stopped and swallowed hard. She hadn't known her mouth had got so dry. She saw Bobo smile, a confident smile. "I mean, I, think we should get on with the business at hand." She raised her hand as Malik opened his mouth to make a smart remark. To her surprise he closed his mouth again. "We just spent ten minutes working out what to call me and another ten..."
She gave them a meaningful glance and watched them exchanging smiles.
"This is what we call an Introductory session. Where we get to know each other. So I need you to tell me about yourselves - your friends can keep you straight and off the BS."
Bobo chuckled a low rumble and Malik jabbed Dre in the ribs. Pops just looked her in the eye and nodded. She was OK - she was accepted.
"Then after ten minutes each we can have a quarter-hour when you can ask me what you like. Find out a little about me."
They liked the idea of that. They liked the idea of that a lot.
"Yes, we selected this four very carefully. They just need a little nudge, a little incentive," Marcus Jones had told her. She hadn't understood what he meant at the time. She had a rather better idea now.
***
Her new friend Chris let her change at her place. Chris and a couple of other teachers lived at a new development only a couple of blocks from the college. "When I changed my life-style my husband didn't approve - but it's real good here - absolutely, definitely, no shortage of baby-minders. Young Darnell loves all his Aunties here."
Away with her long skirt and carefully modest blouse. Away with her bra - though the panties would stay for a while. She'd learned how these things worked.
She buttoned up her tight top - felt her nipples already respond. Knew how they would signal her excitement to anyone watching, notably to the four young men who would be watching her very carefully. Then a black tailored jacket over the white blouse. She pulled on a tight black leather-style skirt that finished half-way up her thigh. She wore tan stockings with hold-ups and a pair of three-inch heels. She placed her papers in a smart black brief-case. Finally, she touched up her make-up. She never wore much but this evening she had to look just right. She placed her shoulder-length blonde hair in a simple pony-tail. Then she checked herself in the mirror
She liked the look - a P. A. for a very upscale employer. The sort of woman who wouldn't have ANYTHING to do with the likes of Pops and his friends. She had to admit that she looked pretty good.
Chris just giggled when she checked her out. "Adult education, eh!"
"You think they'll like it?"
The two women laughed together. Men were sometimes so easy to predict.
***
"So each time I will set you a few tasks and - in return - in time you'll get to set me a task. Sound good?"
Four pairs of eyes fixed on her, four smiles, four pairs of pants bulging impressively where it mattered the most.
Oh yes - men were so easy to predict...
End of Chapter 7....
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