Chapter 2

Janet's move was shortly after that, although that final night with the Matt and the 'slowbies' certainly stayed active in her mind. She found herself rehearsing both events time and again. More often than not, her hands would slip slowly, almost unconsciously into her panties, when the memories flared up.

Sure, she was moving on to a new situation, but she found herself not in the least sorry for having done what she'd done. She even giggled to herself, when she thought back on it, and realized that it was all really prompted into life and reality by her being called a 'chicken'.

(And she supposed that this little piece of information was something that she should jolly well keep to herself and not let anyone else discover. It was as though it were a weakness of her entire generation. Still it caused her to smile now.) But her friend Marsha Houser had done her work well, proving herself a truly good friend, for Janet did have a job to go to. It was at a school whose chemistry teacher had left for unexpected health reasons and were in a pickle for a replacement. It was there that Janet was bound, and it had at least the possibility of her continuing in that position in the future.

So, it was last nights for Janet in her country place, which she of course had thanks to the generosity of her Uncle Ken. She did have at least one surprise just before she left the place. She received, quite out of the blue, an offer for the place, that was so generous that she decided, upon consultation with U.K, her 'money guru', as she called him, to sell rather than keep it and rent.

That whole business went rather quickly, since it was a couple that was coming and needed a place right away. So, Janet was pleased with that part of it, and, again following her 'guru's' advice, continued with her plan to rent a place where she was moving, and salting the money she'd made away for a rainy day.

She woke, looking around and realizing that the place was a mess of boxes and crates and bags with clothes. She groaned at the task, tasks ahead but chided herself quickly:

"You earned it for playing the slut with students, and then deciding to own up to Marsha and run."

She mused on that and realized that she didn't know which was the more deciding turn of events, the more deciding actual decision: The decision to go to 'Nelly's Pond' that night and drink with 'the boys' or her decision to be honorable and admit it to Marsha and quit her position.

She lay in the pre dawn darkness and mulled it all over in her mind again. But the conundrum didn't occupy her mind's eye for long. For as soon as the topic was introduced, she was back there and she was dancing for them, taking her clothes off, and taunting them with the silly, silly but fateful phrase:

"That's for me to know and for you to never find out!"

Janet laughed out loud in the dark at the memory:

"Fat lot of good that kind of taunting did for me! 'And for you to never find out!'," she mused. She thought a bit and then she continued:

"What did it take them another five minutes to find out what kind of panties the slut was wearing!"

She laughed out loud again at what she called herself. It was almost like a secret name, always a name that she used in her fantasies: 'the slut'. It's how she really happily saw herself. It's what, to her understanding, the situation, which might have gotten out of hand but in a way that she really knew that she loved, proved about her: That she was a slut.

Then her thought went a little further. She acknowledged to herself, wholly, that she was indeed a 'slut'; she liked being a slut.

"But what is more," she mused further, "She knew that she would be a slut whenever exactly the right person came along and penetrated her reserve and ordered her about."

The incredibly strong reality of that notion made her shiver, gave her goose bumps, and she almost automatically plunged her hand down inside the thin white cotton bikini panties that she was wearing.

"Yes, honey," she crooned to herself, "Momma's here; play time."

Then she said to the night air, and to any spirits that were attending:

"And no one calls me 'chicken'."

Her well rehearsed fingers found the tender spot and she let her mind reel backwards; backwards to being naked at Nelly's Pond; hell, backwards to being naked in her own back yard, and in both places to being totally, thoroughly fucked.

"Like a slut should be!" a little voice said into the night, causing Janet to laugh just as she was about to cum, her body shaking and her pussy streaming.

When she was done, she lay there and just sighed but soon she got up with the admonition to herself:

"Up for new adventures."

And with that she was out of bed, and wondering all the while about what would be next.

The move was made, she settled into her rented house and fitted herself well into her new job. It wasn't so much different from the old one, although the facilities were better in this place, especially the chem lab, which she inherited with the job. That was a pure joy.

She settled in and took over as though she had been there all along. She had the same mixture of kids as she'd had before and worked at settling in with them understanding her own view of her authority.

It seemed a good school and she simply wasn't having problems. She got along also with the rest of the staff.

But she loved the Chem lab; it was a gem, and a joy. The old school had nothing that even remotely resembled it. She made it her business every day to do a clean up that kept it looking sparkling and new.

She got a circular memo about a week or so after starting from the school administration to the effect that a volunteer program was being instituted at the school, and various students would be encouraged to volunteer their services in a number of capacities. It seemed to Janet a good enough idea.

She had a follow up about a week later, when, after school, as she was doing her clean up, there was a knock on the door. When she answered it, she discovered it was the basketball coach. With him was a tall, rather large black kid.

Janet, who'd met the coach, a kind of fatherly figure, and liked him immediately, welcomed him, and the student with him, and invited them in.

The coach explained to Janet that he was in favor of the volunteer program started by the administration, and that he was bringing alone one of 'his kids', DeWayne Morgan, to volunteer in her chem lab.

Janet was pleased, because the routine clean up in the lab was a big job and she was sure that DeWayne would be a positive addition and a big help.

With that settled, the coach left them so that Janet could begin to explain to DeWayne what was needed to clean up the lab every day.

They worked together for a solid week and hit it off really well. She found DeWayne to be easy to instruct, witty, pleasant, and respectful. She had no kind of problem with him at all.

Janet had really only one issue with DeWayne, and she didn't let it surface or come to her full attention until they'd been working together for a week or more.

She realized that she was turned on by him. The thought came absolutely unbidden in the middle of one night. She woke up; she was sweating, she was in bed naked and she was a horny as she could ever remember being, and all that she could think of was DeWayne, his size, and his good looks. A small voice in the back of her head, that always seemed to have a mind of its own, piped up then and asked:

"Do you think that what they say about black me being 'hung' is true?"

Just at the thought, Janet started to giggle uncontrollably. But when the giggling fit subsided, she spoke to herself seriously:

"Get yourself in hand here, girl; there's no cause for you to go looking for trouble again, after that last incident. No one's calling you 'chicken' about anything, so just keep your pants on and your thoughts to yourself."

She sighed because she knew that, against her better judgement, it was indeed good advice.

Still she could feel a tension between DeWayne and her beginning from that time onward.

He even asked her if there was anything wrong the very next day:

"Hey, J.C.," he asked, which is what he called her, and she never minded, and never corrected him, "Anything wrong with you, girl?"

She huffed then, trying to move the conversation in a different direction with:

"'Girl'? DeWayne, I'm over 30 and these days that's already old! To old to be called 'girl'."

"Is not!" was his simple reply, accompanied by a huge toothy grin.

(Janet was just pleased, facing that grin, that he didn't tell her to take her skirt off then and there; she believed that she certainly would have done it! She promised herself a 'home game' in bed that night with maybe her vibrator and her hands getting both involved. That, at least, settled her for the moment.) The discussion seemed to end there too, since DeWayne just smiled at her, and let it drop. But it did have the effect of setting Janet on edge, since it meant that DeWayne was in touch with the fact that something was certainly different.

But things settled down for them and were normal for the next week. The tension was always there, and Janet recognized it as that peculiar tension that is around and easily felt, when a couple is about to make a serious sexual connection.

During those times, she played with herself at night incessantly, and she haunted the net, often ending up with stories that talked about liaisons between teachers and students. She told herself that it was constantly a way to defuse the tension for her.

Then came the following Monday. She was already working on the clean up, when DeWayne came in a little late.

"Hey, J.C.," he said easily, "Sorry to be late; anything special to do today?"

"No, DeWayne," she answered with a smile, "Same old same old. We need to do a quick inventory of the supplies in the closet area and that'll be all there will be today."

She went into the closet area, after him. It was a narrow space with drawers on one wall that contained all the supplies that were needed. There were also upper cabinets to check out. They proceeded to go through the inventory sheets. She called out the names of the items and he would do the checking.

It went along very well and pretty quickly. Once they were finished, she said to him:

"You go ahead now, DeWayne, thanks for helping me. This is the longest chore. I'll finish the few things to be done."

"Cool, J.C." he said with a grin and made a move to slide behind her in the small space to go to the door.

Then it happened. As DeWayne slipped behind Janet, on his way out, he put both hands on her ass, as she was bending over to clean out the sink in the middle of the storage counter.

Janet let out a squeal and jumped to the side, looking at DeWayne wide eyed.

"Hey, woman!" he said vehemently, "You sound like a volcano erupting; take it easy, girl!"

The tension had exploded and Janet did something then that totally flabbergasted her and, probably, set up much, if not all, that was to come. She apologized:

"Sorry, DeWayne," she said, "I guess I'm just jumpy! I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry."

He grinned at her: "No problem, girl," he said easily, his use of that kind of language with Janet from this time on being normal and accepted. "You just scared old DeWayne is all."

"I know," Janet said, refusing to even consider what the small voice in the back of her head had to say, at least right then, anyway. "I'm sorry; I'm jumpy, like I said. See you tomorrow."

"Be cool, girl!" he said and turned to go, as she said to him:

"I'll try, DeWayne."

At that he shot a glance over his shoulder at Janet that left her simply short of breath.

When he was gone, she leaned against the counter, and the little voice spoke up then and was heard:

"He felt up your ass, as he went by, 'girl'!"

"Oh, yes!" Janet said.

"And you let him, 'girl'!" said the voice.

"Oh, yes!" Janet said. Then she said to herself a sudden and savage:

"Stop it! Tomorrow you can mention it to him; it was probably only a mistake on his part anyway. Get it out of your mind."