May Whitfiield was one of those women that other women just love to hate. At forty-one she still had the figure and face she'd had when she was twenty-one, much to her own secret delight, and many another women's secret, and sometimes not so secret, envy. Her skin and complexion were smooth and flawless, and she didn't need makeup to make it look that way. She was 5'7" with a 36-24-36 figure, long wavy brown hair which she often let down to her waist, grey-green eyes, and a generous mouth that smiled readily, and yet didn't wrinkle her skin. Her 36C breasts were still firm, with no sag whatsoever.
She had a wicked sense of humour, that was both infectious, and mischievous. She was highly sexed, though, in her opinion, never had quite enough. One thing she was adamant about though, was that she would not get involved with another teacher, particularly from her own school. She knew there was a great deal of lusting and speculation from her pupils, particularly the older ones, and in a fit of she didn't know what, one term, about three years previously she had shamelessly played on it.
Two of her colleagues, who were much like her in many respects, but who didn't have quite the same level of daring she had, had discretely watched the boys, and listened in amusement to the stories they had told in the playgrounds afterwards. Their favourite story was from the time May had flashed her knickers at a class of upper sixth boys, the seventeen and eighteen-year-olds. This had all been done in such a way that made it seem like an accident.
May had gone prepared that morning. Her skirt was perhaps a little shorter than was normal, though the type of skirt, and the season, meant she didn't need any underskirt. Her underwear that day was a simple pair of black cotton briefs, that completely hid everything. Going so far was one thing, going any further was out of the question. With a bit of careful and judicious planning, she had arranged for the room she would normally have used to be unavailable, so instead they used the lecture theatre. The tiered seating meant that she had to tip her head back to look towards the back, so whenever she was in there, she had got into the habit of sitting on the desk at the front, so raising herself up a bit. From there of course, it was a simple matter to 'accidentally' forget to keep her knees together, and let the boys in the middle of the front couple of rows see straight up her skirt for about thirty seconds before she moved. She was so gratified by the reaction she got, she repeated it twice more, for briefer periods of time. She was even more amused the time she sat there without offering the boys a glimpse of her treasures, watching them desperately try to see something that wasn't to be seen, and trying to hide their disappointment. At the end she had slid off the desk in such a way that the back of her skirt 'caught' itself on the corner of the desk, raising it up above her waist, and giving virtually the whole class a split second glimpse of her thighs, and panty covered backside.
She heard the faint sigh that rippled around the room, but ignored it. A number of boys would have something to masturbate over that night, she'd thought to herself, including her favourite, a boy everybody thought she disliked as she picked on him so much.
The stories that had gone around later had gradually been elevated out of all proportion to the actual events. Starting from a reasonably near representation of the truth, and gradually being embellished and exaggerated to the point where, so the story went, she'd had no knickers on at all, and was variously shaven or very hairy 'down there', or that she did it all the time, or even that she'd spent the whole lesson with her crotch on view. The only one she didn't hear, much to her own relief, was that she'd done it deliberately.
After that final climax though, she'd calmed right down, and although she occasionally wore that skirt again, and regularly sat on the desk, the two never came together. Indeed, many of the boys, particularly in later years, were inclined to believe the whole thing a hoax, something which she did all in her power to discretely foster.
The only indication that she was not as young as she appeared, was her three children.
Simon, the eldest, looked least like her and most like his father, 6'1", striking blue eyes, and a pale blonde hair. He was twenty two, and had just finished an MSc at university. Jonathan was twenty, slightly shorter and stockier than his brother, but with a much more cheerful disposition. He had been to college to train as a chef, but had been working in a large bakers for the past few months. Michelle was eighteen, just coming to the end of her 'A' level exams, and was virtually the spitting image of her mother, but with lighter hair, and somewhat slimmer.
This particular morning, the school had been closed for half term break, and May had been shopping with Simon, trying to find a new suit for him as he had a number of job interviews lined up over the next few weeks. May had never really thought about the fact that she didn't really look any older than her son, so it was a bit of a surprise when a young girl of about twenty or so stopped in front of them and began shouting and ranting at Simon. It was a few seconds before she realised that the girl, who must have been one of Simon's latest conquests, was assuming that she was Simon's girlfriend.
It took them both five minutes to convince the girl, Shirley, that May really was Simon's mother, particularly as it then turned out that Simon had 'dumped' Shirley some three weeks earlier for another girl. One whom Shirley still had not seen.
"Well," said May amused, "in a way that's quite flattering," she paused a moment. "To both of us."
Simon was less amused, though could still see the funny side. His seriousness brought out his mothers playful side sometimes, and this was one of those times. May grinned and put her hands on her sons upper arms and stood appraising him for a moment, while he went red with embarrassment.
"Mum", he whispered. May just grinned again. Actually her son was very good looking, and it disappointed her that he was so shy with those girls his looks seemed to conquer so effortlessly. She tucked her arm into his, and the two walked down the street. She felt him stiff against her, so she put her arm around his waist instead. Tentatively he brought an arm up around her shoulder, and within a few minutes he had relaxed again.
Simon had a problem. He was actually quite shy with a lot of the girls, but he also got chased by girls he didn't want as well. In fact, there was one chasing him right now, Maria. He'd met her three weeks ago, and due to his own innate shyness, she'd managed to separate him from his then girlfriend, Shirley, whom he did like. Unfortunately he was too shy to go back to her and tell her so, so was in a double bind.
Maria was always pestering him, and wouldn't take no for an answer, but this mornings incident, seemed to offer a way out, if only his mother would play along. He had a horrible feeling she wouldn't, but he had to ask.
Taking a deep breath first he spoke. "Mum?"
"When Shirley thought you were my girlfriend, it sort of gave me an idea. There's this girl, Maria, that split me and Shirley up, and she's been chasing me for a few weeks now, and I sort of wondered if you would pretend to be my girlfriend when she's there. Make her go away so that I can have some peace. So she'll leave me alone."
May laughed. "I'm flattered. Again. Why don't you just ask Shirley?"
"'Cos she's not talking to me. Only shouting at me."
May laughed again. "How are you going to arrange for this Maria to see me. This town is very big, and we could go weeks without her seeing us."
"Erm, well, she'll be at Winston's this evening, and I thought we might go, see if we can just 'bump' into her there."
"Hmm. I'll have to think about this. I'd be fighting your battles for you. You should learn to fight them yourself."
"I know, but..." He trailed off, unsure how to express himself.
"All right, just for a little while. But as soon as she's seen us, we leave, got that?"
He nodded, relieved.
May hadn't been to a night club in a number of years, but she still had the small silver dress she'd worn the last time she'd been, and it still fit her. "You never know", she thought to herself, "I might want to pull myself this evening. I haven't had a lover in well over a year now." With that thought in mind, May dolled herself up, just the right amount of makeup and perfume, her skimpiest knickers, and no bra. Secretly, she was hoping this Maria wouldn't turn up, so that she could go and enjoy herself. Send Simon home, or even just leave him to his own devices.
She knew roughly how big the place was, so knew it would be easy enough to split up and not bump into each other, and embarrass each other if either of them did pull.
They went in about 9:30, before the evening really started, though a few couples had started to dance. Simon looked around but could not see Maria, so they grabbed a table near the edge of the dance floor, and sat down.
"Do you want a drink?" asked Simon.
"That would be nice. Dry white wine I think. Thanks."
.... There is more of this story ...