Jim Grant moved quickly down the long, semi-illuminated, basement hallway. The seventeen-year-old was one of the editors of the high school paper and had spent the better part of two hours rewriting an article that had been turned in three hours before the paper had to be sent to press.

If it had been up to Jim, he would've just tossed the poorly written feature in the trash can and been done with it. Unfortunately, it had been written by Phyllis Fox, a member of the school's in crowd and the darling of the paper's faculty advisor, Miss Ferguson. It was Jim's opinion that Phyllis's column was mindless drivel, filled with the sort of useless garbage that the small school's beautiful people thrived on. If he'd left it out, Miss Ferguson would've been all over his ass and he really didn't want to have to deal with that again.

The sandy haired teen already had enough arguments with the thirty-seven-year-old English teacher to last a lifetime. Just last year, they had a confrontation over the direction the paper should take that led to Jim being suspended from school for a week. The only reason he managed to get back his position on the paper when he came back was that the Principal quickly discovered that what was left of the staff was incapable of producing anything resembling a decent publication without him.

So despite Michelle Ferguson's objections, he returned to the board of the Lakeville Star. There was a constant friction between the two of them, but Jim was careful not to let anything blow up enough to get him suspended again.

"Damn, Mom's going to have a fit when I get home," Jim thought as he turned the corner. "I was supposed to pick up her dry cleaning on my way home and the store is going to be closed by the time I get there."

The rest of the staff had gone home an hour before, including Miss Ferguson. She had been satisfied with the layout for the paper, even if Jim hadn't. The young man resisted the urge to tell her that the paper was crap as it stood, instead suffering in silence and staying on his own time to fix the errors.

To make matters worse, the custodians had locked the gates at the staircase by the newspaper office, forcing Jim to travel the length of the basement to go out the stairs by the gym.

"Oh baby, do it to me, do it baby!" a voice echoed faintly from a side passage down the hall.

The sudden sound caused Jim to stop in midstep. The school should be deserted at this hour on a Friday night, he thought, who the hell was that?

"Oh baby, suck it, suck my cock!"

"Fuck, I know that voice." the young man said as he remembered what was down that side passage.

His carry bag in hand, Jim moved quietly down the passageway the voice had come from. He'd reached the end of the corridor when he saw the lights in the gym coach's office were on. From where he stood, he could see right into the glass walled room.

"Holy shit!" the teen said under his breath as he saw what was going on in the brightly-lit room. "I don't fucking believe it!"

Leaning against his desk was Coach Rob Kelly, the forty-six year old head of the athletic department. The coach was stripped to the waist and also had his sweatpants down around his ankles. Rob Kelly was six foot two and two hundred and thirty pounds, all of it muscle. He was also bald, good-looking, and very, very black. Married with five kids, his wife Kate was also a teacher at the school, a member of the music department.

That the coach was using his office to get a blowjob from a woman not his wife was shocking enough. What was really mind blowing to the seventeen-year-old was that the woman with Kelly's cock in her mouth was none other than Michelle Ferguson herself.

There was no mistaking the redheaded teacher. From where Jim was standing in the darkened hallway, he could clearly see her face as Coach Kelly's dark cock slid in and out of her mouth. He could also see that the white blouse he had seen her wearing in the newspaper office only an hour ago was now hanging open. As was her bra, displaying her 36C bust for all the world, or at least one teenager to see.

Whatever her personality, even Jim had to admit that for a woman nearly as old as his mother, Michelle Ferguson had a pretty hot body.

"No one is ever going to believe this." he thought as he watched Michelle swallow Coach Kelly's manhood once more.

He watched for another minute when he suddenly remembered something.

"I'm an idiot!" he said to himself.

Jim zipped open the carry bag at his feet and pulled out a rather professional looking camera. The camera belonged to the newspaper and Jim had signed it out to take some pictures of the football game tomorrow. In addition to being one of the editors, he was also one of the photographers.

"Well they say a picture's worth a thousand words." he said as he looked through the viewfinder and started snapping away.

Jim thanked his luck that he had fitted the camera with a telephoto lens and high-speed film for the game. The film that could freeze the action in mid-play, also worked great in low light.

"These are going to be great." Jim said as he clicked away.

With the telephoto lens, it was as if he was almost in the same room as the two lovers. He watched in rapt fascination as Michelle sucked off the gym teacher with the skill of a back alley hooker.

"I think he's about to blow." the young man behind the lens thought as he saw the look on the coach's face.

Sure enough, blow he did as Rob Kelly exploded all over Michelle's face. Jim had to keep from laughing as the redhead found herself covered with the sticky whiteness. An image captured for posterity in living color.

Coach Kelly handed Michelle a towel to clean off her face with. One of the same towels, Jim noted, that the students used to dry off after the showers at the end of gym class. He wondered for a moment if she planned to use those showers to clean herself up, and if so how could he get a picture of her in them. Watching her wet the towel from the water cooler in the office, it became apparent that a shower was not to be. He settled instead for getting a really great shot of her naked breasts when she stood up.

The sound of his roll of film coming to an end as he took that last shot made Jim realize that he had better get out of there while he could. Quickly and as quietly as he could, he stuffed his gear back in his bag and retraced his steps back up the hall. Thankfully, the staircase up to the street level was unlocked and he flew up it as fast as he could.

After getting home and listening to the inevitable lecture from his mother about the dry cleaning, Jim excused himself from the dinner table and headed down to the basement and his darkroom.

A short time later, Jim watched with excitement as the first 8x10 image began to form in the development pan. The picture was as clear as if he'd taken it on a sunny day, the film had worked perfectly.

The first shot was a close up of Michelle with her tongue licking the tip of the Coach's cock. Jim couldn't believe the resolution of the photograph, he could even see the drop of precum on the edge of her tongue.

The next shot out of the soup was even better as it showed a wider view in which you could see Michelle's tits as well as Coach Kelly's face. The third and fourth shots alternated between close ups and wider angles, reflecting the fact that Jim had kept changing the settings on the telephoto lens after each click of the shutter. As more and more pictures began to grace the small line he used to air dry the prints, Jim found that he'd gotten a major class hard on just looking at them.

Knowing the door to his darkroom was locked, Jim sat back in the old, beat up recliner that his father had once tried to throw out and began to rub his cock through his pants. It wasn't long before he had it out and was pumping it with his hand.

His blue eyes never left the image of the teacher he hated blowing the gym coach. As he felt his climax approaching, Jim began to wonder what it might be like to be on the receiving end of that hot mouth. It would be hard to hate Miss Ferguson at a time like that.

Jim had gotten a few blowjobs from girls at school. In fact, two months ago he had even lost his virginity on his seventeenth birthday when his neighbor's cousin Heather, who had been visiting from Canada, went to bed with him. She was a nice enough girl, but it was apparent that it was something she had done more than a few times before. Jim was glad when she went back home at the start of the school year. On the verge of orgasm, he wondered what it might be like with someone like Michelle Ferguson.

"Fuck!" Jim gasped as his cock exploded all over his pants. The force of his eruption was enough to send small white splatters onto the arms of the chair as well.

He sat there, covered in his own sperm, for what seemed like a real long time. The climax he had just experienced was even better than the one he felt with he was inside Heather. Go figure that one, the teen thought.

Jim took the time to clean up both himself and the chair. It wouldn't do for his Mom to come down and find the come stains on the material. Next he collected the now dry pictures and hid both them and the negatives in what he considered a real safe place.

The clock on the wall told him it was time to hit the sack. Jim still had to get up early in the morning and go photograph the football game. He reloaded the camera with the best film he had on hand. It wasn't as good as the stuff he had just developed, but it would do the job. Then again, there was nothing he was going to see at the game that was likely to be as interesting as what he had filmed tonight. Not even if Susan Todd didn't wear panties again under her cheerleader's skirt, a fact that became obvious to attentive spectators when she did a cartwheel. Always attentive, Jim already had two good shots of those cartwheels. One of which he had blown up into a close-up of her bush and sold to a few guys who asked him about it.

Thinking about that, Jim figured that if he sold the pictures of Miss Ferguson and Coach Kelly, he'd get a lot more than the ten dollars a shot he'd gotten for the pics of Susan. A whole lot more.

But that was a decision for tomorrow or maybe even the day after. It had been a long day and jerking off always made him a little tired afterwards. After taking a few minutes to make sure he was leaving everything cleaned up, he headed off to bed.

Jim Grant woke up the next morning with a hard on. Normally this was not that unusual for a seventeen-year-old boy, but in this case, Jim found it a little surprising. The reason being that he had woken up two hours before with one as well. He had jerked off then using a tissue from his night table to keep from staining his bed. Now, despite two climaxes in less than eight hours, he still couldn't get the images he had captured on celluloid out of his mind. The proof of which was the six and a half-inch post now once more straining against his pajama bottoms.

He was pleased to discover that this early morning orgasm was just as enjoyable as the two that had preceded it. The pictures now hidden in his basement were proving to be a potent aphrodisiac.

His lust abated, if only for the time being, Jim quickly showered and dressed. Bill and Jack, two of his best friends picked him up to go to the game. It took all of his strength of will not to tell them about the pictures he had taken.

"You think you'll get any more pictures of Susie's pussy?" Bill asked as he drove down the road leading to the school's playing field.

"Forget about Susie's pussy," Jack said from the other side of Jim. "You ever get a shot of Donna Petrowski's tits you let me know. I'd pay big bucks to see those babies."

"If you weren't such an asshole, maybe you'd get to see them for yourself." Bill laughed.

"Oh yeah," Jack countered. "And whose tits have you ever seen other than your sister's?"

"Just your mother's!" Bill shot back.

"Fuck you!" Jack shouted back.

"She wanted to, but I've got better taste." Bill fired back just as quickly.

Jack fumed at the response for a moment, but Jim had been here many times and quickly defused the situation.

"I'll have to give that round to Billy." he said. "He got you on points, Jack."

"All right," he grudgingly admitted as his temper subsided. "I guess he did."

All of them then laughed.

"You wouldn't really want to fuck my mother, would you?" Jack asked Billy.

"Hell no," he said. "Who'd want to screw someone that old."

"Yeah, right." Jack agreed.

Jim didn't say a word, thinking of the pictures in his basement. Who indeed, he thought.

All through the rest of the weekend, Jim pondered what he should do with the hidden photographs. He was still thinking about it Monday morning when he showed up at first period English. The class had just about resigned itself to yet another of Mrs. Conway's boring recitations of equally boring poems, when who should walk in but Michelle Ferguson.

"I'm afraid that Mrs. Conway's got a touch of the flu and won't be in today," she said as she walked across the front of the room. "So I'll be covering her class for at least the next two days."

That statement perked up the attention of at least the male half of the class. None of them would rather have to pay attention to the fifty-five going on eighty Mrs. Conway. In fact, as Jim had noted to himself in the basement Friday afternoon, Miss Ferguson was a first class fox.

Hanging out with the guys one afternoon, he and they had come to the conclusion that there had to be at least one Miss Ferguson in every school. A Teacher that just exuded sex appeal and more importantly knew it. Someone who, they were sure, knew exactly the effect she had on teenage boys. Even following the conservative dress code the School Board had laid down for female teachers, Michelle Ferguson was still the subject of countless wet dreams. One of the guys at that afternoon bull session had remarked that if Miss Ferguson had been at the Catholic School he had transferred from, and had been required to wear a habit, she still would've been giving even the Priests hard ons. Jim had to agree with that assessment. There was no way you could totally hide a body like that.

Unlike when Mrs. Conway read, every eye in the room was on Miss Ferguson's lips as she read the day's poem. It happened to be a love sonnet, and even the girls were enraptured by her rendition of it. The heaving of her breasts as she added emphasis to her words was almost enough to give every guy in class a woodie, and Jim was no exception.

Unfortunately for Jim, he had the added image of Friday afternoon's little escapade to add fuel to his fire so to speak. As he watched her cherry red lips move as she spoke, he couldn't help but remember how they looked wrapped around Coach Kelly's cock. Then as with the rest of his fellow male student he watched the expansions and contractions beneath her blouse, the young photographer pictured the shape and look of the dark pink nipples hidden beneath the white material.

Jim had gotten so wrapped up in his own private imagery that he hadn't even heard his name called the first two times.

"Mr. Grant!" Michelle Ferguson said much louder the third time as she stepped down the row of desks where he sat.

"What?" Jim muttered as he snapped out of his almost trance-like state.

"Nice to have you join us again." Michelle said from where she had stopped a few desks in front of him.

A few low laughs from his fellows greeted her statement.

"Now that I have your attention, I'll repeat the question," she went on. "How did the poets words make you feel when you heard them?"

"Well, I..." Jim began, knowing full well that he wasn't the only guy in class who wasn't paying the least bit of attention to what the poet's words actually were.

"Stand up please."

"What?" Jim said.

"I said, stand up please," the woman in white and blue repeated. "In my class when you give an answer or render an opinion, I prefer students to stand up so that everyone may have the full benefit of their answer."

Jim quickly became aware of his body's response to the imagery he had been so recently remembering. And if he stood up, so would everyone else.

"I'd rather not." Jim said.

"I'm afraid that wasn't an option I gave, Mr. Grant," Michelle said, the slightest of smiles forming at the corner of her mouth. "This isn't the Lakeville Star where you can do what you want as the result of some misguided sense that you are indispensable. In my classroom you will follow my rules. Or would you rather explain what the poet was talking about to the principle. I'm sure he'd be most interested in your answer."

The memory of his suspension last semester fresh in his mind, Jim slowly rose to his feet. It was Sally Welles sitting just across from him who noticed it first. It didn't take seconds after that for everyone else around him to notice it as well — including Miss Ferguson.

"Well, I see that perhaps you were moved by the imagery of the poets words after all, Mr. Grant," Michelle said with a snide satisfaction in her voice. "But not in the way he intended I would guess. Very well, you may return to your seat."

Jim did so, his ears ringing with the hushed whispers and quiet laughter from those around him. He knew Miss Ferguson had no right to make fun of him like that. But he also knew that if he made a complaint he would find more of the students backing up any version of events she put across rather than what actually happened.

"Well, if our little entertainment is over with," Michelle said as she returned to the front of the room. "I'd like you all to turn to page fifty in your textbook and..."

The rest of the class, in fact the rest of the day passed in a rapid blur for Jim Grant. As he had guessed, half the school had heard about his having an erection in English class by the last period. He had been equally right in predicting that no one heard a word about Miss Ferguson making fun of him as she did.

"I hope you enjoyed your little laugh, Miss Ferguson," Jim raged as he ran down the school steps, trying to ignore the pointed stares. "This time you've gone over the line!"

Jim was just as angry when he finally reached home. He sat at his kitchen table drinking a glass of soda. Eventually, he began to get control of his anger enough to think about getting even.

"Hey what's up little brother?" the tall twenty-year-old asked as she came through the kitchen door.

"Sure, you think it's funny too!" Jim called out at what he perceived as his sister's ill attempt at humor.

"Wait a second, little brother," Marcy Grant said, "What do I find funny? I was just asking how was your day."

Realizing he had jumped the gun, Jim took a deep breath and told Marcy what had happened in English class. He omitted of course what he had been thinking about when he had the erection.

"I guess that would be embarrassing," his sister said with some sympathy. "But you're not the first guy that's happened to, and I'm sure not the last. I remember it happening to Kyle Hamilton back in junior high. Trust me, by the end of the week everyone will have forgotten about it."

Jim then told his sister about how Michelle Ferguson had made fun of him. Of how none of the other students would back him up if he wanted to file a complaint.

"That woman always was a cruel bitch, even back when I was in her class," Marcy commented. "If it wasn't for her I would've gotten the Walker Award. Instead it went to one of her pets. I'm sorry she didn't get fired that time."

"What are you talking about, what time?"

"Back when I was a Senior, Miss Ferguson was involved in some kind of scandal. No one was really sure of all the details, at least no one that I knew. All I know is that there were rumors that she had something going on with one or two of the teachers at the school. When I came back to visit during my College Freshman year, she was divorced and three married teachers had been transferred to other schools. Make of it what you want."

"I think I have a pretty good idea what to make of it." Jim said quietly, the pictures hidden down in his workroom very much on her mind.

"But she managed to worm her way out of whatever her problem was back then." Marcy concluded.

"Sis," Jim asked his sister. "What would you say if I told you I knew a way to get even with Miss Ferguson. A way to pay her back for every nasty little thing she's ever done to anyone."

Marcy considered the question for a minute. She was well aware of some of the stunts her little brother had pulled over the years. A few he had gotten caught at, but even more he had gotten away with. He'd always been a pretty imaginative kid. So if he said he had a way to get even with Miss Ferguson, she had to believe he did.

"I don't think I want to hear this," she finally answered. "But if you really have a way to get back at that bitch, then I say go for it."

Jim's face lit up with his sister's encouragement. His older sibling took note of a mischievous gleam now in his eyes. It was a sparkle she had seen there before. She almost felt a little sorry for Miss Ferguson. The key word in that thought was almost.

Right after dinner, Jim retreated to his basement workshop. Spread out on his desk were the pictures of Miss Ferguson and Coach Kelly. Sitting back in the old recliner, the young man toyed with a bright red floppy disk from his computer. On the disk was a web page containing copies of the pictures on his desk.

He had been debating with himself for the better part of the last hour if putting the web page up on the Internet would be enough of a revenge. To make sure that every teacher and student saw the page, he had also added to the disk the high school's master email list. He planned to send the URL to everyone on the list after he put it up. Jim figured that it wouldn't take half as long as the story of what happened to him in English class for everyone to know about the web page. Oh he was sure that eventually the school would take steps to have the page removed. But by that time, anyone who was interested would've copied the pictures. He could just see copies of them turning up all over the school.

The best part of it all was that they would never know who had done it. When they traced back the email address used to open the account on the free web page provider, they'd find that it belonged to Michelle Ferguson. It had been kid stuff to get into the school files and find out her password.

Still, the whole plan lacked the feeling of satisfaction he expected it to have. Jim just couldn't put his finger on it. He'd been careful to crop the pictures he was going to put online so that only Michelle was identifiable. It wasn't so much that he wanted to protect Coach Kelly. After all, he was a more than willing participant. Rather it was because he had liked Mrs. Kelly when he'd taken her class and had no desire to cause her any embarrassment if he could avoid it. Finally deciding to sleep on it all, Jim stuffed the red disk into his knapsack and headed up to bed.

Jim woke early the next morning before even his alarm clock had gone off. He was too excited to stay in bed any longer. In the middle of the night he'd had a dream, a dream that had told him what was wrong with his plan of revenge.

It was so obvious that he was surprised it hadn't occurred to him before. His plan was too impersonal, too detached. Jim wanted to see the look on Michelle Ferguson's face when it all came back to haunt her. He wanted to watch her world crumble.

Quickly dressing, Jim raced down to the basement. He pulled out the hidden folder with the 8x10s and selected the best shot of Michelle licking the tip of the Coach's cock. Stuffing the photograph into an large envelope, he printed Attention: Miss Ferguson — Urgent! in large block letters on the front. The envelope then joined the disk in his bag.

The hardest part of his revised plan was getting the large envelope onto Miss Ferguson's desk without being seen. Jim's luck held out as he was the first one into class that day. Quick as he could, he stuck it in the middle of the equally large interoffice envelopes one of the school aides had already dropped off. Then he quickly left the classroom, returning ten minutes later with other students.

As was the practice for Tuesdays, most of the English period was set aside for private study. Most teachers used this time to catch up on their paperwork and Michelle was no exception. From his desk, Jim watched carefully as his target went through the contents of the first two envelopes. One eye constantly watched the clock, taking note that the papers she'd read so far had taken up most of the period. It was possible that she might not get to his surprise before class was over. Jim began to experience a feeling of disappointment.

Then, with only a few minutes left before the bell would ring, Jim's face lit up as he watched Michelle put down the pile she was working on and reached for the envelope he had left. The Teacher looked at the label for a moment, shrugged her shoulders, then slit open the top with her letter opener.

Michelle Ferguson's normally rosy complexion turned a deadly pale white when she saw the photograph from the envelope. For a moment, Jim thought she might actually pass out as it looked like she couldn't catch her breath. Had he gone too far?

"Miss Ferguson, are you all right?" one of the girls in the front row asked loudly when she looked up and saw the look of distress on the teacher's face.

With that, every student in the class looked up from what they were doing to see what the girl was talking about. Her face still pale, Michelle quickly stuffed the picture back in the plain manila envelope and rushed out of the room. Jim could only guess that she was on the way to the closest bathroom to throw up.

Ignoring the discussion going on around him about the Teacher's strange behavior, Jim sat back in his chair very pleased with himself. It had been more satisfying to actually see her reaction to the picture. And that was only the beginning. The red disk was still resting in the knapsack at his feet. Additionally, he had also printed a small note on the back on the photograph in a last second inspiration. It simply said, coach's office - 5:00.

Jim had toyed with the idea of physically confronting Miss Ferguson. Personally letting her know that he was the one she could credit with her downfall. He still didn't know if he would actually go through with that part of his plan, but it felt nice to have that option. The Lakeville Rockets were playing at Northside tonight and the coach's office would be as empty as a ghost town at that hour.

The bell rang soon after and Jim headed to his next class. He became even more pleased with himself when he overhead one girl tell another that she had gone to check on Miss Ferguson and found her in the girl's bathroom, her head buried in one of the toilets.

By the end of the school day, Jim had decided to wait around and see if Michelle would keep her appointment. He'd heard she'd asked other teachers to cover her classes for the rest of the day, saying that she felt a little ill. Yet at the same time, she hadn't gone home to rest, telling them she just wanted to lay down in her office for a little while. Normally any teacher taking sick time would've been out the front door before the administration had even arranged for a substitute.

As a member of the newspaper board, it was easy for Jim to hang around after everyone else started to go home. Most of the students in the office were going to the Northside game and wanted to catch the 4:30 buses. By quarter to five, Jim was all alone in the office.

"Decision time," Jim said to himself as he put down the proofs he hadn't really been reading and looked up as the clock neared five. "I guess it wouldn't hurt just to take a walk down the hall and see if she actually showed up."

Jim took his time strolling down the hallway, walking like he didn't have a care in the world. He stopped to read a few notices posted on the tiled wall. Unlike Friday evening, the hall was still well lit at this hour.

Passing the side corridor that led to the coach's office, Jim paused just log enough to look down it. Sure enough, there was Miss Ferguson standing impatiently by the locked door.

Jim had gone about ten feet further when he came to a full stop. He thought about it for a moment, then turned around and headed back toward the side corridor.

Michelle Ferguson was so lost in her own thoughts that at first she didn't see Jim coming toward her. She looked up and was startled by his presence.

"Oh it's you, Grant," she said when she saw him. "I don't have time to talk to you about the paper right now. It's going to have to wait until tomorrow."

The fact that the thirty-seven-year old couldn't make a connection between the seventeen-year-old's appearance and why she was waiting here just added to Jim's sense of animosity. It was just yet another example of her not taking him seriously.