Chapter 6

Bob was weeding a bed of Hydrangeas, which wasn't going well because he kept thinking of Cecelia and wasn't paying attention to what were weeds and what were Hydrangeas. It disgusted him a bit that he couldn't control himself. She was just a woman, after all, like any other woman, right? And, while he hadn't exactly sworn off women, like she seemed to have sworn off men...

That distracted him. It was almost criminal that she had sworn off men. That no man got to bask in her beauty ... soak in her aroma ... run his hands over her supple body...

He was thinking about how happy he'd been to find that Cecelia was his student teacher, and how it was quite possible it might turn out to be a big mistake when he heard a vehicle turn into his driveway. He looked over his shoulder to see her car pulling slowly toward him. He felt a surge of panic. He was dressed in what he usually wore when out in the garden; gym shorts, no shirt, and tennis shoes with no socks. The shorts were baggy, which was good because he realized thinking about her had given him another boner, and bad because he knew if he stood up it would push the shorts straight out. He tried to will his unruly penis into softness as she parked ten or so feet from him. That didn't work and his only option was to just stay hunched over.

When she got out of her car it didn't help. She had done as she said she would, going for a run to retrieve her car from the restaurant. She had on a skin tight tank top, and short shorts to go with it. Her hair was still in a ponytail. She had on running shoes, with the kind of socks that came only to the tops of the shoes, and had little fluffy balls on the back.

Even without makeup she looked delicious.

"Hey," he said, trying to act normal. "I see you got your car OK."

"Yeah," she said. "I have a question, though."

"Shoot."

"What did we talk about in the restaurant yesterday?"

"You don't remember?" He felt a wave of relief wash through him.

"No, and I don't know why."

"I suspect you're not much of a drinker," he said.

"I already told you that," she said.

"What you told me is you don't drink," he corrected. "And what I mean is that when you DO drink, you need to be careful. I think you got a little tipsy."

"I did?"

"In fact, you took a little nap. You really don't remember that?"

"No," she said.

What she was thinking, though, was that after all her careful attention to not letting men get her drunk, she'd gone and let a man ... get her drunk. Except that he hadn't taken advantage of her when it happened. On the one hand, that made her feel good. On the other, they had been in a nice dark booth. She could remember that much. And he HADN'T taken advantage of her! She chastised herself for thinking that way. Just because she couldn't control having a crush on him didn't mean he felt the same way, even if he did say she was drop dead gorgeous.

Then she wondered what else she might not be remembering.

"Um ... I didn't say anything stupid ... did I?" she asked.

"Not at all," he said. "You were a perfect lady. Even so that's the last time I'll suggest you need a drink." He smiled awkwardly.

She wondered why he was still bent over down there on the ground, instead of standing up while talking to her. He was on his knees, still pulling up weeds of some kind, alternately looking at them and then looking up at her over a bare shoulder. She watched the muscles ripple and move under the sheen of sweat on his skin and then looked away as she wondered what those moving muscles might feel like under her hands.

"OK," she said. "I just wanted to check." Her eyes went to his waist, where there were no love handles. He was in pretty good shape. She felt the feelings start and turned sideways. "So ... I'll see you Monday?"

"Unless we see each other before then," he said. His mouth snapped closed, and he wondered why he'd said that. It was sometimes used as a snappy comeback, but he hadn't said it for that reason. He realized he'd said it because he hoped they WOULD see each other before then.

"Is there anything else we need to go over?" she asked, and realized she hoped he would say there was.

"There's always more to plan for," he said, trying frantically to come up with some important example of that, should she ask for one.

"I'm still all sweaty from my run," she said. "I should go home and clean up first, if we need to have another planning session."

"I'd hate to take up your last weekend before school starts," he said.

"I don't mind. Really. I don't have any plans."

"Oh. OK. You want to come back here? I mean we can relax, and it won't be noisy or anything. Bring your swimsuit if you want." He closed his eyes hard and gritted his teeth. That was the first thing he'd thought of after seeing her in her running outfit, wondering how amazing she'd look in a bikini. He hadn't meant to say it though.

"Maybe," she said, thinking about the only suit she had. It was a one-piece, low drag competition model she'd used in the pool at school, swimming lap after lap. The only problem was that it had very little padding in the cups. She looked down to see that her nipples had foiled both the sports bra and the cloth of the tank top she was wearing. They were bumping out, even in the heat. In the cool water they'd spike for sure ... if they weren't already erect just from being around him. "Maybe," she said again.

"Whatever," he said, trying to sound like it really didn't matter. In a way he hoped she didn't, because he had no idea where his jock strap was, and he knew he'd need one if he swam with her, no matter what her suit looked like.

"Be back in a while," she said.

"I'll be here," he responded in his most nonchalant voice.

Bob stood up as soon as her car was gone. His prick made the front of his shorts jut out obscenely. He left the pile of weeds he'd pulled for later and ran into the house. A shower got him clean and soft-pricked again, thanks to the after-image of her long, lean legs and those delightfully thrusting breasts, with nipples that pushed through two layers of cloth. He looked everywhere for the jock strap, but never found it.

They had already gone over all the lesson plans for the first week, so he pulled out the ones for the second and third weeks. He figured to let her pick one of those days for her first foray into running the class, though he wouldn't require it if she didn't feel good about it.

Having something to talk about when she returned, he turned to preparing a tray of snacks, cutting slices of summer sausage, several kinds of cheese, and then adding quartered tomato slices, olives, celery and carrots. He didn't keep soda in the house, but he did have bottles of juice. That would have to do. He was just finishing up when the chimes rang. He'd chosen a tank top and shorts, but hadn't put anything on his feet. He answered the door barefoot.

She'd opted for another tank top and shorts too, with sandals. Her hair was now in a loosely woven French braid that lay on her back like it was hugging her. She had a plastic shopping bag hanging from one hand.

She got excited when he told her about being able to choose a lesson plan to kick off her instructional experience with, but then got nervous as she looked at the choices.

By the time they got to something she could pick Bob would have already covered World War I and how it led to world wide isolationism. He also would have covered the purpose and fate of The League of Nations, after the war to end all wars, and how The Great Depression played a role in rendering the League powerless to stop Hitler from advancing so far into his plans that the world erupted into war again.

That left her with the options of covering World War II, the development, for better or worse, of atomic energy, or the abandonment of colonial imperialism, all of which created opportunities for strife and conflict that were still playing out in the present.

All of those were intimidating subjects.

Bob's off-the-cuff attempt at getting to spend more time with her backfired. As Cecelia tried to pick a subject to cut her teeth on in a real classroom situation, the worry associated with that made her want to study up. As much as she wanted to stay there and be around this disturbing and fascinating man, she wanted to earn his approval as a teacher more.