Chapter the Thirtieth: School's out.

As is customary in such circumstances, the meal that the school put on probably cost as much as they hoped to recoup from the patrons' subscriptions. There was more metalwork on the table than in the orthodontic restraints of most of the lower school -- which is saying a lot.

Maggie and I were treated to a very well-served dinner of many, many courses.

The event obviously considered by the school to be a way of showing off to themselves and a way of getting the wallets open. The service was extremely attentive by some of the students who had obviously been well coached in their duties. The food was delicious and the environment very conducive to a good time. When it came time for the final course, we were informed that the students would perform a musical interlude for our pleasure whilst coffee was served.

I had had the 'fortune' to attend several school concerts in my life. Our kids just approaching their teens. The experience of listening to a chorus of children, who can successfully miss every single note, is without parallel.

Watching the enthusiasm of the tone-deaf music teachers as they flap their arms and endeavour to drag some sort of coherence out of the lungs of the kids always helped me realise how wonderful the idea could be, of being home; cleaning the toilet.

Every soaring caterwaul would make my skin crawl and the dead, thump of the fat kid at the back with the bass drum, usually added to the general funereal dreadfulness of the evenings. I would trot out the requisite praise to the general populace, but I couldn't help wondering if they were all being as tactful as I was (i.e. lying through their gritted teeth.) So it was that I had already begun to cast about in dread for a some sort of excuse to leave the audience even before the children trooped on stage. Maggie, as always seemed quite oblivious to the impending cacophonic workshop and sat with shining eyes as she awaited the show like a mother. She actually sternly told me to sit still, just like the old days.

I raised my eyebrows at the tone of her voice and she immediately smiled her assurance that she was not slipping back to her old ways. She even reinforced the fact by brushing her fingers across the bulge of my cock under the table a sure sign that the old puritan was long gone.

I blustered a bit at being forced to endure the show but did as I was told and turned my attention to the choral group lining up on the open stage in front of us.

To my utter amazement, the first musical phrase actually bore a remarkable resemblance to the one the composer had written. Maggie barely suppressed a giggle as she recognised my surprise, she had sat with my moping and complaining when the kids' schools had done similar things and knew how I would be reacting.

I couldn't believe how polished the performance was. We sat through about five pieces that were all superbly rendered and much to my chagrin, my initial expectations were completely wrong. The final piece was a beautiful blues number; 'Chain of Fools' performed by five girls from the 'upper school.' I was overcome by a wave of lust that hit me as soon as the red velvet-clad elegant figures of the slim young women, slinked into the spotlight. There's something about a stage that always adds to the stature of the performer. Even a little squirt like Phil Collins can seem immense on the stage. These girls stood like amazons, their long slender legs in sheer silk stockings and the short figure-hugging dresses accentuating the curves of their youthful bodies. I was fascinated, the memories came back to me of Amy and Valerie as I had first seen them in the mall all those months before. I knew they were a lot younger than they looked but that didn't interfere with my lustful enjoyment.

Maggie gasped a little as she felt the effect of my radiating libido. Some of the other table guests did the same. I had to rein myself in but the twinkle in everyone's eyes as they watched the performance didn't diminish. I looked for the face of Angela in all the girls I could see, she was not there and I began to wonder what sort of situation I had got myself involved with.

The coffees were served individually as were a small platter of cheese and biscuits with decorating fruit. I began to nibble at some whilst the girls continued. A sudden texture change in the cracker brought my attention back to the table as I extricated a folded piece of paper from my mouth.

I carefully and surreptitiously unfolded the moistened note, it had been carefully hidden beneath the biscuit. The writing was hastily scrawled on the small square of paper:

"PLEASE. I arranged your invitation. Room 2R24. PLEASE"

The scrawl looked as if it were done with the wrong hand. It seemed desperate even without the words. I showed it to Maggie and she nodded her understanding.

I held her hand and linked to her directly. She would watch my back for any treachery as I investigated the note.

A few seconds apart, we left the table to visit the washroom and proceeded to find our way to the school room specified in the note.

Maggie stood at the end of the corridor, where she could see the exits and I continued along to the closed door about halfway along the hallway.

The lights were off inside, only the faint glow of the moonlight through the side window illuminated the classroom. The dark shadows of the rows of desks stretched out to the deep blackness of the back of the room.

"Hello?" I called gently with a feeling that this was just too much of a stupid thing to do. "Are you here?"

A tiny noise, like a gasp alerted me to the fact that there indeed, was a person in the shadows.

"<What's happening?>" Maggie's fear came through strongly.

"<Nothing at the moment, she's here in the dark. I think she's alone.>"

"<Be careful.>"

I let her know that I was being as careful as I could and stepped into the room with my sphincter tightly clenched, closing the door softly behind me. The noise sounded again, more like a sob than anything else.

"Angela?"

A very soft and timid voice managed to speak from the shadows at the right of the room: