Chapter 1

Some of us lead double – or even triple–lives.

No, I am not talking about vampires, werewolves, or ghosts, though I might get around to that sometimes.

I am talking about regular people who have regular jobs but sometimes work in other capacities for one reason or another.

You might remember me telling you about her, who is known as Ms. Cindy, who teaches at The Learning House for Girls. I know! It is still an awful name for a school for girls!

But that is not our story today.

No, it is about what Ms. Cindy does when she is not teaching, for she is not always teaching.

Summertime brings a break for the girls and some teachers, but not all desire a break. Some have bills and families they must raise, hence the desire to pay those bills.

Even though Ms. Cindy has been at the school for quite some time and enjoys a very generous salary, there are some years she takes on a second job for bigger plans, such as a trip to Asia or Europe.

Along with pleasing girls, Ms. Cindy enjoys gardening and working with her flowers. When she takes on jobs in the summer, it usually has something to do with that.

This particular summer, Ms. Cindy worked as a plant waterer at a local nursery. No, not a nursery with children – that would not be kind! And, who wants to work with a bunch of soaking wet infants?

No, she works at a greenhouse, where she waters plants.

Ms. Cindy enjoys her job, no matter the weather. Some mornings start chilly, and some days end up very hot – but that does not stop Ms. Cindy from making sure the plants are lovely and happy with their daily waterings.

Of course, the job comes with other rewards. Ms. Cindy is not at all above taking sly glances at the cute wives, girlfriends, and ladies shopping for plants, often doling out helpful advice to keep the plants happy in their new homes. And with her sunglasses on, none are the wiser of the looks she is drinking in!

“Do you have any azaleas?”

Ms. Cindy giggled to herself. Even though she kept a respectable appearance, she was not to make herself seem too important for a good internal laugh. “Ass-aleyas,” she snickered to herself.

Eyebrows arched in helpful interest, Ms. Cindy turned to the voice, finding one of the local moms standing beside her.

Ms. Cindy had seen the woman several times before, pegging her as a slightly upper-middle-class wife who worked a high-paying job at, let us say, an insurance firm while her husband took in the even bigger bucks as, say, the primary insurer. Over the woman’s shoulder, she could see her well-dressed husband looking at the coneflowers with their three younger children. Ms. Cindy marveled at the woman’s figure after three children.

The woman quickly spun her head around, flopping her dark ponytail with each turn. “I’ve looked, but I can’t find any! I know there were some here last week.”

Ms. Cindy nodded and smiled, quickly rolling up the hose. “Yes, ma’am. We moved them recently to the outside. After losing their bloom, they have not sold quite as well as last week.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Great! It’s Ok if they’re not blooming!”

Ms. Cindy smiled again. “They are over this way,” she said, walking towards the exit. The woman followed.

The azaleas were outside the main garden area, now resting with other flowers past their bloom time, but still sellable. This also happened to be where the store kept its massive amounts of excess pallets of mulch, which forbiddingly surrounded the area.

The woman’s eyes lit up as she bent over to look at the plants closely. “These are wonderful!” she said, her peach-shaped rear poking up in the air, her shorts doing a magnificently poor job of not sliding down a little bit to show the slightest hint of top butt crack.

Ms. Cindy smiled to herself, taking the scene in.

The woman stood up; a smile still pasted on her face. “Those are not bad at all! I think we will grab a couple of them. Will you finger my asshole?”

Ms. Cindy is rarely taken aback.

With this, she was taken aback.

“I ... I am sorry? My hearing must be off today. I missed that request,” she said with a smile.

The woman inched a little bit closer. “I asked if you would finger my asshole? Please?” She smiled; eyebrows arched.

“Not a service we usually offer here...” Ms. Cindy started.

The woman nodded her head. “You know Heather Chance.”

Ms. Cindy did indeed know Heather Chance, who was another teacher at the school, usually specializing in clitoral stimulation. But that is not important now.

Do not get me wrong! Clitoral stimulation is significant! However, class is not essential in this story. If you are partaking in clitoral stimulation right now, please continue. Also, please send pictures and videos to the author, Ms. Cindy, so that she can study them.

Where were we?

Ah, yes.

Ms. Cindy nodded. “I ... do.”

The woman moved up a little bit closer. Her breasts were slightly brushing Ms. Cindy’s arm. She smiled. “Heather ... told me about your area of expertise.” She bit her lower lip. “I really would love it if you fingered my asshole.”