Pill 3

My next use of the Pill was an accident of opportunity. As with Maria, my dick voiced a hard opinion and my hand slipped my victim the mother of all mickeys.

The fire of sexual attraction dampened between Maria and me by Sunday night. Outside school on Monday morning, our smiles to each other were almost shameful as we acknowledged a romantic relationship was not in our future. As much as a continued sexual relationship with Maria would have been pleasing, I found it enough to bask in the memory of our sexual odyssey for the rest of the week. It was Thursday morning before I thought about my next conquest.

I woke up horny. I was no longer a virgin and if that took the edge off, being able to have ANY woman sharpened it right back up. I got a taste and wanted another mouthful.

I arrived at school in hunting mode. Tanya was the first possibility to cross my path. Her body was lickable, but I did not particularly like her anymore. I still wanted to fuck her, but I wanted what Maria had freely given more. Part of the weekend's pleasure came from liking Maria. The time after the Pill was more enjoyable than when I completely controlled her. My plans shifted to making someone I liked behave like Maria did on her own, rather than just grabbing what was available.

The girls in my class had very long discussions that day about the different pros and cons of the boys sniffing around Clara. I paid close attention while not participating. Maria taught me that what I knew about women was unreliable, so I listened to gather impressions on what girls really thought about guys. It was educational and gave me hints as to how I might phrase my commands to get more from the next Pill.

The accident began to take shape during my one elective, instrumental music.

My parents and I had strange relationships with each other. My father and I only managed closeness as colleagues. My mother and I were different, more and at the same time less. My mother's life was centered by my father: not as a satellite but as if he were her anchor. I suspect it had to do with her past; my mother's reaction to my Pill relationship with Cheryl was confirmed it.

My mother let me go my way on almost everything. There was only one thing that she quietly insisted or bargained with me for. If my mother had one love other than my father, I would have to say it was music. She wanted piano lessons, had probably wanted them all her life. I became an excuse to learn. If she took me to 'my' piano lessons, it was convenient for her to learn at the same time. It was the only thing I ever saw my mother not face head-on. A part of me always understood we were in those quiet piano rooms for her so I took every lesson without complaint.

My mother was talented but constrained, a precise and unfriendly musician. She passed her gift to me but made sure I had no demons so I played like I was playing. A couple of instructors tried to guide me towards a professional classic career in piano. My mother balked each time. I liked playing but never thought of doing it for a living. My mother knew that and let me learn what I wanted. We left instructors when they pushed. The end result was that like martial arts, my fundamental training was superb but different styles flavored my music. I had enough training and practice to be better than anyone would hear without paying.

It added to my already strange reputation in high school.

We were approaching midterms and our music teacher wanted us to play a little of our midterm piece. The class had kids with little more than basic musical training, while others were burgeoning professionals. The class was notoriously easy to pass so it also contained individuals who thought of me as a personal nemesis to their high-school wide domination: two jocks and their cronies.

For some time, the jocks and I had an uneasy truce; they did not fuck with me and I did not cripple any of them. The truce became necessary when some of them went through a bullying phase, and discovered I was unresponsive to threats. There had been two major incidents in our conflict. In the seventh grade, the worst of schoolyard bullies decided I was in the way of him establishing a grammar school tyranny. Unwilling to go through another beating, his political stance on my independence changed after a 'behind the school' tête-à-tête. In the ninth grade, we had a similar incident; same bully, now a football player, and one of his buddies. I believe they thought two-to-one were fair odds since they were the two and I was the one. They compounded their error by trying to take me publicly. It took a two hundred and twenty pound teacher hitting me full-steam to prevent them from ending up in the hospital. Two more teachers had to throw themselves on top of the pile to keep me down. The incident cost me a lot of time with the school psychologist; neither of the jocks got anything more than a slap on the wrist.

The last incident was not something even the most reasonable of the bunch was likely to forget. We had been slowly climbing to another confrontation since the day the jocks got their lumps. This time, unknown to me, it was over girls. Maria was far from the only one whose interest I failed to notice.

I went through a growth spurt over the previous summer so my body was solid. My father was a wealthy man. I was intelligent and musically talented. I might not have been one of the school's alpha males, but even they walked carefully around me. The combination made me fascinating to girls guaranteeing another incident.

The first pass came with Miss Malone's required practice of my midterm piece. I chose something out of Mardi Gras in New Orleans: lively, sexy, and fun. I heard a sensual laugh and someone clapping when I was done. It was Michelle, a very pretty cheerleader. She locked eyes with me in challenge. She gave me a very adult smile, when she saw I got the message.

I got something.

I stood up to go to my seat, which happened to pass Michelle and the jocks' entourage. One of the cronies decided he did not like the attention I received from a member of their personal domain. He stood to get in my way. I stopped a comfortable distance from him.

Everyone knew the time had come. I smiled at him; these confrontations seem to surprise the antagonists. He did not know he was going to do it until he stood up.

"Nobody got up with you," I told him.

He looked around; both jocks were still sitting. He failed to understand that the jocks were good enough to go past high school glory. One wanted to get up, but the other was holding him back. Danny, a member of the academic program I was stuck in, tried to avoid trouble with me. We did not know each other well, but we spent most of high school in the same classes so we knew enough. Danny was reasonable, smart, and a good football player; good enough for a college scholarship, smart enough to know I had less to lose, and reasonable enough to let it go at that. I did not eat in his home; he did not eat in mine.

Pointing out that neither jock stood up was an error in diplomacy. It was a slap to all of them and even Danny could not let it slide. There were times in high school that my disdain got the better of me, but I never said I was a fountain of maturity in high school.

"DAVID!" Miss Malone yelled.

I turned around to see our music teacher stalking (if a kitten can stalk) toward me. She was short and good-looking but the outsized glasses and baggy clothes hid most of her. She vibrated though and something about her fascinated me. Elizabeth Malone was bundle of boundless energy and intelligence that I wanted to unwrap. She stopped a step below me and looked up in a show of anger. I did not miss the calculation of her performance, and almost spoiled it with a smile.

"What are you doing?" she seethed.

I turned to look at the crony. He sat down and tried not to look smug. Danny stared at Miss Malone thankfully. I hoped he did not get tangled in my problems with the other jocks.

"David!" Miss Malone seethed again.

I turned to look at her and sighed. I shrugged for her to do her best.

"Come." she said simply and turned to go into her office.

The high school had two music rooms, one for instrument and one for vocal, between which was Miss Malone's office. She slammed the door behind me. She spun and jumped up to sit on her desk. She stared at me. I stared back; actually, I studied her. She was different from other teachers, younger and more real. I decided she used the glasses and baggy clothes to hide her looks. It put me on guard; I do not like people who hid things.

"Do you think you can beat up every jock and wannabe, David?" she asked with more curiosity than anger in her voice.

"One at time?" I asked.

She raised an eyebrow to which I shrugged.

"I don't have to beat them all up, only the ones that won't leave me alone."

"Sometimes, David, it's easier to go with the flow," she said.

I could almost hear wistfulness in her voice. I thought maybe she deserved an answer.

"Did you ever notice that death is a gentle flow?" I asked her.

Her eyes widened.

"You're freezing to death, and it's the pull of sleep that's dangerous. The tide pulling you out to sea. Old age. It's always a gentle but firm flow. It's always easier to just go with it," I said.

"Are you trying to bullshit me?" she asked with a smile playing on her lips.

I laughed.

"I don't know," I replied honestly. "Maybe I'm an asshole, and this is more fun. I don't imagine eating jock shit is a tasty experience."

"They're going to win, you know. They have numbers and at least two of them really hate you."

I was aware of being well known in school but her knowledge seemed too extensive for a teacher. I stared at her trying to figure out why. Most teachers know the smart ones, the dumb ones, and some of the in-crowd. Usually, they do not bother with kids like me, the ones that do not care if they are seen. I knew my one claim to fame was the feud with jocks and their cronies, but did not know how that would get into a teacher's world.

I shook my head slowly.

"There's nothing to win, Miss Malone," I said. "But if they want me to bow, they have to make me."

"Numbers can make it easy to force you do anything they want," she said quietly.

"I like a fight against greater numbers. I don't have to hold anything back."

"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

"I'm a teenager, Miss Malone; immortality, omniscience, and omni-potential. Isn't every teenager a God in his own mind?"

She froze and stared at me with something in her eyes that I did not recognize.

"You are also omni-weird, young man," she said softly. "Someday, I'm going to have a long conversation with your mother. She has a lot of explaining to do."

She shook her head, jumped off the desk, and opened the door. She walked out in front of me. I walked to my desk and sat down.

"David!" she said loud enough for the entire class to hear.

I looked up at her.

"You can serve your afternoon detention in my office," she announced.

The crony turned to look at me; the smug smile grew wider. I wondered for a second what happened to high school boot-lickers; probably graduated to office ass-kissers. I shrugged accepting Miss Malone's attempt to save me from myself.

Michelle stopped me outside of class with a hand on my chest. She trailed her fingers down my stomach as she stared at me. Her eyes were hazel green.

"I'm sorry about detention," she said sweetly.

Michelle made no attempt to hide her attraction. I reciprocated by studying her body. The bloom of womanhood looked good on Michelle.

"You liked the music," I said before I realized it.

"I loved it," she said. "I think you're awesome."

The way she said it made shivers run down my spine.

"I have a piano at home," I blurted out.

"Really?" she said expectantly.

"Would you..." I started and stopped.

Michelle smiled widely.

"Would I, what?"

I tilted my head and stared at her.

"Come over next week and I'll play for you."

"Next week is a long time away," she complained moving closer to me.

Her voice mesmerized me into a decision.

"I have to pick out the right music," I told her.

"Okay," she said with a sigh. "Next week then."

She moved even closer to me. We stood still for a second before she sighed again and turned to walk away.

"Very well done, David," Miss Malone said from behind me. "And at the same time, so disappointing."

"Disappointing?" I asked.

"She wanted you to kiss her."

"Oh!" I said.

"So much for omniscience," Miss Malone said with a laugh before walking back into her classroom.

I turned to watch Michelle's saucy ass saunter down the hallway. I would have to remember to ask her if she had wanted a kiss when the Pill broke down the barriers of her mind.

Detention in Miss Malone's office was boring. She did paperwork while I sat making believe I needed to study. I was about to ask her if I could play the piano while I waited when she took off her sweater. Her baggy clothes hid her slimness and the fact that her breasts were out of proportion with the rest of her. She got up to walk around and without the sweater to cover her hips I saw that she had more than the requisite bottom curves too.

"Would you like a soda?" she asked suddenly.

The glasses were fakes it seemed, since she had not worn them the entire time I sat in her office.

"Yeah," I replied.

I got a nice view of her backside as she bent over her purse. My dick rose up curiously. Miss Malone straightened and held out a couple of singles to me.

"Go to the teacher's lounge on the second floor, and get me a Coke," she said as I took the money from her hand. "Get what you want, too."

She turned and walked back to her desk. Her hips swayed more naturally than the movement of the girls my age. I headed towards the teacher's lounge thinking about Miss Malone. My dick led the way to my wall locker after I bought the sodas. I did not like Sprite but made the selection without thinking. I knew why when I opened my locker and pulled out the baggie with a Pill in it. I did not want to confuse which soda I put it in. I opened Miss Malone's Coke and crumbled a Pill into it. My dick and fantasies were in control of my body. Miss Malone was a teacher, attractive, and had afforded me an opportunity that was too good to pass up.