Chapter 1: The Interview

After 5 years of teaching Adam Hazel was bored!

It was not a conclusion he came to instantly. It did not jump out at him from a cupboard shouting, "You know your problem, old son? You're bored." Nor did it descend upon him in a blinding flash one day while in the bath - for, truth to tell, he did not possess a bath. Rather, it crept up on him bit by bit, slowly filling his consciousness until it became a foregone conclusion - something he had always known but had not really seemed important until now.

He was not bored with teaching, of that he was certain. He still derived a tremendous sense of achievement when he succeeded in igniting that spark of enthusiasm in one of his pupils. It made the daily grind of teaching and the frustrations of dealing with bored teenagers, who would rather be somewhere else, all worth the effort. Nor was he really bored with young people - although he found their refusal to be enthusiastic about learning frustrating. Out of class, however, he enjoyed their company, their sometimes irrational views on things, their black-and-white vision of the world. And, if he was really to be honest with himself, he enjoyed the presence of nubile young women although perish the thought that things would ever go beyond a bit of idle day- dreaming.

But Adam Hazel was bored with teaching physics. He resented the fact that he had had to specialise in one subject to get his qualification and was therefore restricted to teaching just that and no more. He knew he could offer so much more. Sometimes he wished he'd been born in the 18th century when all lines of enquiry were open to all men and it was common for men to be 'experts' in often disparate fields.

However, a physics teacher he was. Single, 26, unattached, not unattractive, no particular vices, no great passions - and a physics teacher. So when a small advertisement for the Greenwood Academy, who wished to recruit a 'scientific generalist', caught his eye, he was intrigued enough to write for more details.

Several days later an envelope in a restrained green colour with an imposing coat of arms and the words 'Greenwood Academy' embossed on it landed on his doormat. Inside was a letter, signed by the Principal "A Henderson", which invited him to apply for the advertised post. He read that the school, being small, wanted to recruit a science teacher who might turn his or her hand to other subjects - by mutual agreement. Enclosed was a small map with directions for finding the school and a brochure. He opened it with interest.

'Greenwood Academy for Girls, ' he read, 'was established in 1895 to cater for the complete and rounded education for young ladies of distinction.' A girls' school!! This was intriguing. The brochure went on to describe the location - idyllic; the accommodation - palatial; the curriculum - broad; and the fees - staggering. After a few moments of wild male fantasy, his natural good sense prevailed and he read the brochure again with a cooler head. This was obviously an exclusive school. No doubt they could afford to recruit the very best of staff with exemplary careers and exceptional qualifications. There was no mention of salary, but, with the fees they were charging, it must be reasonable, at least. He sighed. There was no way that a single, 26-year old male could be regarded as suitable. Still, there was no harm in applying, so without further ado he completed the application form and posted it first class along with his CV.

To his surprise he received a prompt response inviting him for an interview at his convenience and suggesting that he telephone to make arrangements. After several conversations with the school secretary - a pleasant-sounding, helpful woman - it was agreed that he would come down on Saturday. The journey was several hundred miles and he did not trust his rather old and dilapidated car to survive the journey so it was also agreed that he would travel by train to the nearest town, some 15 miles from the school, where someone would meet him.

After a dull and uneventful journey he arrived at the station late on Saturday morning. As he made his way out of the station, his eyes caught sight of three girls dressed in green blazers and short grey skirts, and a woman in a dark grey suit standing next to a car. As there seemed no other likely candidates, he guessed they must be from the school and started towards them. As he approached, one of the girls noticed him and pointed and the woman stepped towards him.

"Are you Mr Hazel?" she enquired, smiling.

"Yes, I am," he replied.

"I'm Jacqueline Wishart from Greenwood. I'm your chauffeur." She held out her hand.

"Thank you. It's good of you to go to so much trouble."

As he shook the proffered hand with its slender fingers tipped by carmine nails, he saw that, despite the sober clothes, she was no older than he and was exceedingly attractive. A mane of dark hair framed a triangular face with high cheekbones. A face dominated by a pair of almost black, almond-shaped flashing eyes and sensual red lips. Her skin was swarthy and there was more than a hint of the Mediterranean in her genes. When she moved, he was aware that the loose jacket could well conceal a generous figure. Her skirt was short and revealed her shapely legs, trim ankles and neat feet clad in black stockings and high- heeled shoes. He unconsciously straightened his shoulders under her amused and challenging gaze.

"Not at all," she said. "I'm afraid it will be a bit of a squeeze, though. As soon as they found out I was coming to town, these three minxes insisted they just had to do some shopping." She indicated the girls who glanced up coyly from lowered eyes. "This is Erica, Melanie and Zoë. 5th formers." She sighed theatrically. "They're impossible." The girls giggled.

"How do you do," he said. "I'm Adam Hazel."

He looked at the girls properly for the first time and did his best not to gawp. The girls were stunning. Beneath the dark green school blazers they were wearing white, tailored shirts and the charcoal grey skirts moulded themselves to shapely hips. The uniforms covered but did not conceal the fact that, although still technically schoolgirls, these were three ripe, nubile young women. The skirts clung to their svelte hips and were short enough to show off shapely legs, of which they seemed to have an abundance, sheathed in sheer black nylon. Yet they were all completely and fascinatingly different; one with dark hair framing a heart-shaped face with green cat's eyes and a rosebud mouth; one with Titian ringlets, large, blue eyes and a generous mouth; and one blonde with an oval face, small nose, grey, hooded eyes and pouting lips that just begged to be kissed.

They returned his greeting politely.

Jacqueline unlocked the car - of the large estate variety - where the girls insisted that Adam sit in the back. In no position to refuse, he sat in the middle sandwiched between the red-head and the brunette. He was more than a little disappointed as he had hoped to discreetly pump Jacqueline for information during the drive to the school but a back-seat/front-seat conversation in the presence of three girls would hardly be discreet. He was also slightly surprised that Jacqueline had let the girls get away with insisting on the seating arrangements. They set off and were soon out in the countryside. The girls kept up a constant chatter and banter, in which Jacqueline was included, which was full of references and allusions he could not understand, so he kept silent and tried to simply admire the passing scenery.

This was difficult, partly because of the chat, but mostly because he became acutely aware that he was in car with three; no, four, extremely attractive young women. The car was hot and the scent of young girlhood was quite overpowering. He could feel the warmth of firm, young, female thighs next to his and it seemed that, no matter how he shifted my position, a slender, black-nylon clad leg was pressed against his. For such a large car, there seemed to be remarkably little room in the back seat!

After a while he realised that he was sitting with his knees pressed uncomfortably together and a shapely female leg pressing against each side. He glanced down to see why this should be and realised with a shock that his partners were sitting with their legs apart. Their short skirts had ridden up their thighs exposing not just the lacy tops of their stockings - not tights as he had assumed - but also a tantalising glimpse of thin white panties, through which he could make out the shadow of their pubic hair. He felt myself redden and go prickly hot as he hastily averted his eyes. His position became even more uncomfortable as his cock started to swell unbidden - squeezed as it was between his closed thighs.

He felt most uncomfortable and tried to recite the table of the elements to distract himself. But the vision of stocking tops, sleek thighs and white panties remained. Indeed, the girls seemed to sense his discomfort and rubbed their legs against him deliberately and provocatively. In that instant he regretted he had ever set out on this vain mission and wished he was safely back home with the football on the TV and a can of beer in hand. His swelling cock and was painfully squashed and he could no longer stand it. In desperation he pushed back at the intruding legs to take some of the pressure off his aching genitals.

The girls seemed to take this as some sort of signal and pressed against him even more blatantly. Then he felt a hand on his right thigh gently pressing and caressing, followed shortly by another on his left. 'My God, ' he thought in panic, 'here I am heading for an interview with the Principal of an exclusive school and I'm surrounded by nymphomaniacs.' The roving hands moved higher.

Suddenly something seemed to snap. If these girls were deliberately trying to put him off and tease him, they were succeeding. He would call their bluff. He shifted my position carefully, pushing back against their legs even more and managing to free his arms. He placed a hand on a leg on either side of him and started to caress the stocking-clad skin. The girls did not withdraw! Instead they pushed back enthusiastically and worked their hands higher until they were resting just below his cock, which throbbed painfully in his trousers. He was now so aroused he was beyond caring. Deliberately, he worked his hands up their legs over the tops of their stockings to soft, bare flesh of their inner thighs. The girls wriggled in their seats in excitement. He was aware that their breathing had quickened and become shallower.

He considered his next move. By spreading his fingers wide he was just able to touch the white panties, each of which, he suddenly realised, featured a damp and slightly sticky patch, and gently tickled the soft, flesh beneath. There was a low moan from one side and a sharp hiss of in-drawn breath from the other. The girls slumped down further and their skirts rose even higher. He glanced down to see two ample vaginas proudly defined by the panties which were pulled tightly around them. The sight was so erotic, he nearly came there and then. The girls parted their legs even wider to try to give him better access and he was able to flick his little fingers back and forth over the front of their panties. He could feel the soft lips beneath part slightly and the tight material become even damper. As he did, the girls clutched spasmodically at his thighs though, fortunately, not at his cock. He was so caught up in the sensations that he did not realise that the car had become completely quiet.

He was brought abruptly back to reality by Jacqueline saying, "Well, here we are," in a bright voice.

He looked up in confusion to catch a glimpse of an imposing, ivy-clad building before the car came to a halt. He hastily withdrew his hands and the girls sat upright, tugging down their skirts. He was perspiring freely and had a raging hard-on and was aware that his hands smelt strongly of teenage female juices. The reality of the situation burst upon him and he felt faint with embarrassment.