Storiesonline.net ------- Teaching and Learning by Scotland-the-Brave Copyright© 2007 by Scotland-the-Brave ------- Description: A young teacher helps a young girl find her hidden academic talent at the same time as trying to avoid her attempts to reward him. How will it all end up? Codes: Mf rom teen reluc exhib ------- ------- Chapter 1 I didn't see it coming at all. I didn't see it, didn't see her, creep up on me and get under my skin, leave me so exposed, so raw that I found it very difficult to handle what came my way. She was thirteen going on fourteen. She stood out due to the fact she didn't have on a school uniform like every other person in the class. Her clothes were functional, plain and worn but immaculately clean and patched with what looked like hard work to simply keep the frayed ends together. She was one of my new students this year, a class full of girls and boys her age, here to study business management. She was more than quiet, she seemed almost speechless and the others singled her out, picked on her because she was different, because she stood out, because she wasn't part of the crowd. I was immediately impressed by the way she managed to take the constant jibes, the comments about her clothes, her mousy look, the comments that she was nothing but a loser. I admired her courage in being able to take all that they threw at her. I'm a recently qualified teacher. Twenty-four years old, single, male and still full of the vocational zest that led me to want to be a teacher in the first place. I was driven by the belief that I could help shape young minds, stretch them, enthuse them, help them identify their purpose and get the best possible start in life. The idea that anyone in one of my classes would get a raw deal was like a red rag to a bull. No way, not on my watch, no child would be getting short-changed while I was around. I reviewed the school's information on Kirsty MacLeod. That was her name. Her attendance in her first two years was almost exemplary but her academic performance was nothing short of dire. The file said there were confidential background notes available on her too and I put in a request for access through the school office. In the first few weeks I came down hard on those that were picking on her, believing they would soon get the message. On some of these occasions I could see her look at me strangely as if she was surprised someone was defending her. She remained behind after class one day, obviously nervous about speaking to me. She hadn't spoken even once during class in this first two weeks that I could remember, so I knew this had to be very important if it had forced her into taking such a step. I remember smiling at her to encourage her and to try and help her relax and get whatever it was off of her chest. She was twisting the hem of the thin jumper she wore, twisting it quite harshly as she tried to get her nerves under control. Once more I tried to help her. "Kirsty, something is obviously bothering you and it looks like you want to talk to me about it. I promise I don't bite, honest. Why don't you just say what it is straight out." Her eyes remained downcast as she stuttered an explanation of why she was here. It seems that the class bullies, while tempering their behaviour in my class, had simply escalated their treatment of her everywhere else in the school. My well-intentioned intervention had simply served to make the squad even more hostile than they had been before. Kirsty wanted to thank me for trying to help her but asked that I stop doing it because she feared she would suffer more in the long run. "No one has ever been nice to me Sir, never. So I feel really bad about throwing it back in your face like this. But, I think I can look after myself." At last she looked up at me and I could see the deep sadness she felt contained in her deep brown eyes. I thought I also caught a hint of something else but it was fleeting, gone in an instant. "You know the school has a zero tolerance policy on bullying and I think you're very brave for standing up to them, but you don't need to do this on your own. Anything that interferes with your safety, health, well being and education are all issues that I can't just ignore. So, if you want me to take a softer line with this squad you're going to have to give me a better reason than 'you think you can look after yourself'." "Um, I don't know Sir. I just want to look out for myself and the easiest way of doing that is for you to back off, please?" "Kirsty, I'll do a deal with you. You let me do my job and I'll make sure you get the chance at an education. These guys need to learn sometime that they can't go through life treating people like this. What's next for goodness sake? They'll graduate from bullying to gang crime. No, this stops here. I'm sorry but I have to take action." She gave me one final look before turning and leaving my classroom. The look was a mixture of resignation and perhaps fear. I made my way to the school office and asked the secretary if my request for Kirsty's confidential notes had been actioned. It had and the secretary asked me to sign to show that I had received them. I took the notes back to my class and shut the door behind me so I would be undisturbed while I read them. This wasn't pleasant reading. Kirsty was living with her alcoholic father, her mother having disappeared, abandoning her at an early age. Social services had her on the 'at risk' register because there had been a number of occasions when it had appeared as if her father had beaten her very badly indeed. The notes made it clear that Kirsty had never admitted her father beat her, always having some excuse ready to try to explain the bruising, and on one occasion a broken arm. The fact the man was drinking heavily, that she was living alone with him, combined with the beatings, were what put her on the register. I put the notes down on my desk. Life certainly was dealing Kirsty MacLeod a shitty hand. I was determined to do what I could to try and do something about that part of her life she spent in school. Other professionals would have to deal with the rest of it I thought, not realising what the future held. I returned the notes to the office and asked the secretary if the Head Teacher was in his office. He was and I knocked his door before entering. "What can I do for you Ken?" He asked me. This was Richard Henderson - 'Tricky Dicky' to all the kids in school (does every Head teacher have to have a derogatory nickname?) - Head Teacher of Alban High School. "It's about a kid in one of my third year classes," I told him, "she seems to be the subject of sustained bullying by a group of the other kids. I've read her confidential notes and she's on the 'at risk' register as well. I feel strongly that the school needs to do something to protect her." "Ken, we have a responsibility to make sure every child at this school is safe. If what you're telling me is true then you'll have my full backing in taking all necessary action to stamp this out. Now, who are we talking about, who is the girl and who are the ones picking on her?" I realised I had probably come across as a little sanctimonious, my opening focussed too much on the girl and me riding in to save her, rather than the general school policy. Still, he was agreeing to do something about it and that had been my goal. It was important to make sure he knew Kirsty wasn't a troublemaker herself, as that would colour his thinking and perhaps limit how far he was willing to go. So, sharing the details of what I knew, I pointed out that Kirsty had an exemplary attendance record, despite her home situation, albeit that her results seemed poor. The Head suggested he would review Kirsty's timetable and speak to some of her other teachers to find out whether they had noticed anything untoward. "Oh, oh," I thought to myself, "if no one else has gone to the bother of reporting this, they're not going to admit to witnessing bullying, are they?" I suggested a better approach might be for him to simply happen to be in the corridors outside some of Kirsty's classes in the hope of spotting the bullying himself. I also gave him the idea that it would be worthwhile looking at the discipline record of the four worst offenders in terms of the behaviour I had witnessed. Henderson frowned. It was clear he recognised my response as indicating I had no confidence in my fellow teachers telling him anything. Now I wasn't being a team player and he didn't like that, no Head wants somebody on the staff rocking the boat. "Okay Ken. I will speak to some of Ms MacLeod's other teachers, but I'll try your way as well." That was about as much as I could hope for I guessed. I thanked him and left to return to my classroom. A week later I found a note on the floor of my classroom asking me to meet with Henderson sometime that day. I had four classes to deal with, three in the morning and one in the afternoon so I had some free time just before lunch. After my last class of the morning had streamed out of the room I locked the door behind me and made for the office. The secretary, Jill, told me Henderson was expecting me and that I should go right in. "Ah, Ken, thanks for coming to see me," he said, "take a seat." I sat in a chair facing his desk and waited to hear how he had got on with my erstwhile colleagues. "Okay, I've spoken to some of Ms MacLeod's teachers and they all report the same thing. Yes, they have noticed the four you've identified picking on her, but they describe it as low-grade stuff, some name-calling, put-downs and such. Nothing they felt worth reporting." I made as if to speak, but he stopped me. "No, no, let me finish. I've followed her around off and on over the past two days and I am convinced it's more than that. The verbal stuff is constant and if she's been suffering that over a prolonged period the mental damage could be severe. But I also saw more, intimidation - no actual physical assault but extreme intimidation. I've decided to call the parents of all four in to see me. This is simply not acceptable and it will stop." "Thank you Headmaster, for going the extra mile and for believing in me enough to even consider it." "That's one of the main reasons we're here Ken, they're our responsibility while we have them. The other teachers can't be blamed for not picking up on it, as in each individual class it didn't really add up to much." I stood and turned to leave his office. "Oh, and Ken, good spot." ------- The Head was as good as his word and within the week all four sets of parents had been into the school and they had been left in no doubt as to the seriousness of their children's actions and the potential consequences. I noticed a marked change immediately and smiled to myself - job well done! I guess that's when it 'really' started. She hung around after the last lesson on Wednesday afternoon. This time she wasn't so nervous looking and I let her approach my desk without speaking. "It was you Sir, wasn't it?" She asked. "Actually it was Mr Henderson, but I did bring the situation to his attention. I told you Kirsty, we can't accept that kind of thing going on." "Well thanks, none of them have bothered me for days now. You don't know what a relief that's been." She looked at me with her big brown eyes, the look one of adoration. "My pleasure Kirsty, that's what we're here for. Now you can repay me by working hard in this class." She nodded and turned to leave. "Oh, Kirsty? I think you've left something." I held out a plastic carrier bag and she took it from me. Looking inside she found a bundle of school uniform clothes. When I had been in the office I had noticed a huge cardboard box full of uniform items. These were things that had been found lying around the school and handed in, never to be reclaimed. I had asked Jill if I could rummage through the box and explained why. My thinking was simple, if Kirsty had a uniform she would fit in better and that would help her avoid the potential teasing even more. Now she looked through the bag and glanced up at me. "This isn't mine Sir, I don't know whose it is." "Oh trust me Kirsty, it's yours alright." Her face lit up and I realised I had seldom seen her smile. Not a real smile, one that reached her eyes as well as her lips. It transformed her face from plain to beautiful, and her excitement at something so mundane was a reminder to me of just how little this girl had. I had had to guess at her size, but fortunately, to offset my typical male ignorance of women's sizes, each of the items actually had an age-range on the label. The bag contained a couple of pleated, grey coloured skirts, some white blouses, two school ties and a navy blue blazer. By the looks on her face it you would have thought it was haute couture. On impulse she hugged me, the plastic bag squashed between us. I felt kind of awkward, stiff; this was not the kind of thing that male teachers did with young female pupils. When she pulled back I could see that there were tears in her eyes, happy tears, and she turned and almost ran from the room. I didn't have her in my class again until Friday and when I saw her walk in the room I could see that the uniform had been washed and ironed until it was immaculate. I watched as she chatted to two other girls as she found her way to a seat in the front row. It pleased me that she seemed to have begun to fit in and even have acquaintances if not friends. I had the lesson outcomes up on my whiteboard and called them to order to begin the class. Today's topic was 'What do businesses do?' and I quickly covered some of the material, splitting them into groups to discuss what I had covered and to develop their own thinking. The lesson progressed briskly and I walked round the room, helping things along where I had to, but letting them do it themselves if possible. I could feel her eyes following me round the room and caught her a couple of times before she could glance away. "Now that's all I need," I thought, "help the girl and find she's developed a crush on me. Ah well it's harmless." That view began to change towards the end of the lesson. I was just winding things up, summarising what we had covered and testing out with them how the lesson had gone. I glanced towards Kirsty and almost stopped talking. She was sitting low in her chair, her legs spread and her 'new' uniform skirt had somehow ridden up her legs. I could see what seemed like miles of creamy white thigh and then some nearly white panties. They were obviously old and well worn, had seen better days perhaps, but they hugged her sex, creating a little camel toe. I looked away quickly and moved behind my desk to hide the growing lump in my pants. Had she done that on purpose? I re-focussed on the lesson with some difficulty and set them a homework exercise. My announcement met with the usual groans but I smiled and wished them all a good weekend. After they had filed out of the classroom I let myself replay the scene I had just witnessed, convincing myself Kirsty hadn't been aware she was showing herself to me the way she had. The following Monday there was no repeat although Kirsty did continue to follow me round the room with her eyes. At the end of the lesson the pupils handed in their homework for marking. Kirsty hovered by my desk as the others filed out. "I worked hard on this Sir, just like you told me to." She said. "Good Kirsty, I'll look forward to marking your work." I replied, smiling encouragingly at her. I admit that I set her homework book aside when I got home that evening, marking all of the others in the class first. The Scottish school system uses the first two years of senior school to channel pupils to classes suited to the level of attainment the school thinks they are able to achieve. Kirsty was mostly in classes where there weren't high expectations, despite teachers' best efforts! That was reflected in the test scores of the class so far. Tonight the highest mark had been eight out of twenty, the average only six. It could get quite depressing sometimes if you couldn't see the kids making any forward progress, but I tried to work on my lesson plans, identifying techniques that targeted each individual and how I thought they learned best. I poured myself a glass of Australian Cabernet Shiraz and settled back to mark the final test, Kirsty's. My excitement grew as I worked through her answers, although it was hard going as her spelling and grammar were atrocious. Despite that, it was clear she had a very good grasp of the areas covered and had put in a lot of effort to add the little extra touches that mark out an outstanding paper. When I was finished I totted up her marks - eighteen and a half points out of twenty. If I was being honest I had been quite harsh on her when I'd deducted the one and a half point she missed. Putting down her homework book I sat back and tried to get my head round this. From well below average to outstanding in one giant leap, was that believable? Initially I suspected that she had had help from someone, someone from the credit class, but I knew I had to give her the benefit of the doubt. If this really was all her own work she was in the wrong class. Could the cessation of the victimisation and intimidation have contributed to an upturn in her performance? Was it possible that there was a bright pupil here that the system had somehow missed because of other factors? I penned a little note in her book: 'Fantastic work Kirsty, well done and keep it up' ------- The next morning I took Kirsty's homework book with me and went to speak to her English teacher. She was very surprised at how well Kirsty had done and I asked her whether she thought it might be possible the girl had been hiding her talents from us or perhaps had allowed outside influences to stop her from working? She couldn't answer that, but promised to think about Kirsty and try to find a way of attempting to achieve the same kind of results in English as I appeared to have done in Business Management. ------- My next lesson with Kirsty in the class was on Wednesday. I handed out the homework exercise books and began the lesson I had planned. Most of those in the class weren't particularly interested in their marks, but I could see out of the corner of my eye that Kirsty eagerly opened her book. She thumbed through the pages until she came to the most recent exercise and I watched as her face first registered shock and then delight at her score. I called on Kirsty for answers twice during the lesson and she was spot on in each case, giving well-rounded answers that demonstrated her understanding of the issues. I admit it was partly a residual suspicion that she hadn't completed the homework exercise herself and I was pleased that her performance tended to confirm her improvement. As this was the last lesson of the day the class exited without delay when the bell rang. All that is except Kirsty. "Sir, I can't believe I scored eighteen and a half! I've never scored that high, never!" "Well done Kirsty, it was good work, but for an exam you'll have to improve your English dramatically. An examiner will dock you marks for that so best work hard in English classes too." Her face grew serious, as she was obviously thinking about that. "Oh, okay Sir." "What did you do differently for this test that you haven't done before Kirsty?" I enquired. Her smile re-appeared now as she answered. "Well, first of all I was able to pay attention in class Sir, without all the usual sniping to distract me. And I guess I enjoy your subject best. I told you I would work hard but we don't have a computer at home to do research on so I joined the local library and used the computer their. I found the library was quiet and that helped me concentrate on the work. It's not like that at home and I've started to do all my homework at the library now - it gets me out of the house too and that's a good thing." She stopped suddenly as if she knew she had said too much. "Well it seems to be working, keep it up." As she passed me on her way out of the class she went up on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek, pressing herself up against me. Then she was off in a flash. ------- Chapter 2: Progression I wasn't really worried by Kirsty's behaviour yet; she was just a young girl after all and would form many crushes probably. In class she continued to follow me round the room, her eyes like a desperate puppy. How she managed to learn anything in that state was a miracle and I secretly suspected she was actually covering the lessons at home so she could daydream about me during the lesson. Her work continued to be of a high standard and I was happy that she was progressing well, well enough that I had already made enquiries about how I could have her moved up into the credit class. That would be difficult, as it would have to fit in with the rest of her timetable. It was most likely that she would have a different teacher and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Still, the most important thing was her development. Heather Marshall, Kirsty's English teacher approached me a couple of weeks later. She was clearly exercised by something. "Okay Buster, what have you done with Kirsty MacLeod? The girl in my class is not the same person I had two weeks ago. I've asked her about what can only be described as a miraculous improvement in her work and she told me you had impressed on her the importance of her English for examinations!" "Hi Heather, yes I did tell her that her standard of English would pull her marks down and that she had to work hard at improving it." "Well, let me tell you she has gone back to Primary school texts and begun to work through those and first and second year work too. It's almost like she's running her own little remedial class and it's working. Whatever it is that you've got over her keep using it!" I blushed at this comment and tried to explain my intervention to stop the bullying she had been subjected to. "The only thing is I think she's now got a crush on me." "Oh, how sweet. Mind you, I can see why, you are kind of cute." She laughed. "Fuck off Heather! Be serious, I'm sure she'll grow out of it soon enough but anything you could do to help that along would be appreciated." She said she would have a chat with Kirsty and repeated her request for me to keep Kirsty hitting the books. ------- Kirsty didn't repeat her flashing incident, for which I was thankful, but continued to moon over me in each class. I consoled myself that I was having a positive impact on her development - four other teachers had now approached me to discuss her significant improvements in performance. Maths, Biology, Chemistry and Spanish all seemed to be areas that Kirsty was now excelling. The progress was so marked that the Head called a conference of Kirsty's teachers. We gathered in Henderson's office and he poured us all coffee. Once we were settled he opened the conference. "Thank you all for staying on after classes today. As you know, we are here to discuss the progress of Kirsty MacLeod, and quite remarkable progress it is too if the reports you have all submitted are to be believed." Heads nodded all round the room to confirm that we were all in agreement with this. "I believe we can trace the seeds of this improvement to Ken's intervention to tackle the bullying behaviour Kirsty was being subjected to and we now need to nurture that as much as we can." I blushed at being singled out and caught Heather Marshall's eye as she winked at me as if to say she knew there was something else motivating Kirsty now. "Okay," said the Head, "I have brought you together to discuss a highly unusual plan of action for this school. I suggest we should consider upgrading Kirsty in all of her classes to credit level. That would deal with difficulties in re-doing her timetable for just a few subjects, but would give her a massive challenge. What do you think? Could she cope with it?" One by one the other teachers gave their opinions. All of them were amazed at the difference in Kirsty's performance, the degree to which she was now a clear self-starter. The progress she had already made indicated she would be able to make the step up was the general consensus. "Ken, you've been quiet, what do you think?" "Oh Ken's got his own little motivational tool," interjected Heather, "Kirsty's got a little crush on him and he just keeps telling her she needs to work harder!" I turned a bright red in front of my colleagues and the Head. "Well, um, she does have a crush on me I think but it's harmless. What's more important is that she now seems to be studying at the local library, using their computer and getting out of her house where the climate is not conducive to good study habits." My colleagues were having a chuckle at my expense. The Head asked each of us one last time for confirmation we felt Kirsty should be moved up and we all agreed. Henderson said he would take care of discussing the proposal with Kirsty herself to make sure she would be willing and also to have a new timetable drawn up if she did. As we were leaving the Head's room Heather tugged my elbow and drew me aside into a corridor. "Ah Romeo, I had my little chat with Kirsty as I promised. Man you're in trouble, she is smitten, boy is she smitten. There was no way I was going to get through to her Ken so just watch yourself okay?" I groaned and promised her I would, thanking her for at least trying. ------- Kirsty was called to go and see the Head during my class on Friday. I guess Henderson thought I was the main one behind Kirsty's progress and could therefore be the one to give up some of my teaching time with her. She didn't return before the lesson ended and I didn't see her for the rest of the day. I was packing up my books and papers at the end of the day, thinking about the weekend, when my door burst open and Kirsty flew in. She didn't pause but instead launched herself at me, wrapping her arms and legs round me as she squealed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you Sir!" I was conscious once more of her little body against me, even worse this time I was holding her by her butt cheeks, an instinctive reaction to her leaping into my arms. I tried to drop her and back off but instead she let herself slide down my body until her feet hit the floor. "Thank you Sir. Mr Henderson has told me that my progress is so good that I'm to be upgraded to credit in all of my subjects. It was you again wasn't it?" "Kirsty, calm down, you really can't behave like that and no, it definitely wasn't me this time, it was all down to you." She did seem to calm down a little although her face was still flushed, the red blush in her cheeks highly attractive. "But I wouldn't be working so hard if it wasn't for you sir, so it is down to you really." She hugged me again and I was intensely aware of her head on my chest, the smell of her shampoo and her little breasts pressed up against me. I heard her sigh, a pleasurable sound, and gently pushed her away from me. "Kirsty, please, students can't behave like this with teachers. I'm really pleased for you but you have to begin to control yourself or I'm going to get into trouble." She glanced down shyly at the obvious bulge in my trousers and giggled. "At least somebody's pleased to see me." She said. "Kirsty! That's quite enough. Now, off with you miss and have a nice weekend." Thankfully she did leave at that point. I sat at my desk, guilt washing over me at my noticeable reaction to her. This was no way for a teacher to react to one of his students. I had to admit that the combination of shyness, youthful innocence and then outright wantonness would make it difficult for any man to control his reactions. I sighed and finished packing to go home. ------- I had only one more class with Kirsty that year before her timetable was changed and she left me a note on her desk as she left, too emotional apparently to try to talk to me. The note was sweet but left me feeling relieved that she was moving to another teacher - perhaps she would switch her attentions now? 'Sir, for all the things you've done for me I love you Sir, for all the help you've given me I love you Sir, for seeing the real me inside I love you Sir, I'm working as hard as I can to show you I love you' I passed her occasionally in the corridors and she would flash me a thousand-watt smile but she kept her distance. I kept a check on her progress with her various teachers and was really pleased to find that she was not only continuing her good results, she was improving if anything. Changes like this were what teachers lived for; it provided affirmation of the vocation we had chosen - pedagogy. So naturally I marked Kirsty down as one of my big successes. ------- I had no further involvement with Kirsty that year until the run up to the third year exams. Heather and two of her other teachers sought me out to tell me her performance was dipping dramatically and they didn't know why. Her attitude in class had become withdrawn, she was quiet, wasn't contributing. Her assignments lacked the detail and attention to detail they had previously shown. I suppose I should have asked the question why they were bringing this issue to me rather than Kirsty's guidance teacher, but I didn't, it never occurred to me. Instead I agreed that I would try and have a word with her. Heather said she would send Kirsty to see me during her next English class. She entered my classroom and I almost thought I had gone back in a time warp. Her facial expression was the same one I had seen in those first few weeks of school, the look she had worn when she had been the subject of so much bullying. I had arranged a chair for her to sit in and I now indicated she should take it. Once she was seated I began to try and get her to open up. "Kirsty, some of your teachers have approached me to say that your progress seems to have halted a little. Is anything bothering you?" Her only response was to drop her head even further than it had been. "Remember how things were at the start of the year Kirsty? They seemed hopeless to you, but we sorted them out. I promise you, no matter how big something might seem to you, no matter how bad, we can deal with it. Now, can you tell me what's wrong?" Her head rose a little, a spark of what might have been hope in her eyes, the memory of what I had described perhaps giving her something to reach out for. I was sure she had something to tell, that she wanted to talk to someone and I was determined she would. Something in her eyes told me she had come to a decision. She stood and began to unbutton her white school blouse. I was about to protest and stop her when she opened the blouse and I lost the power of speech. For once my little head wasn't taking over. What should have been a beautiful teen body was a mass of ugly black and blue bruises some of them almost the size of my hand. I gasped. "Sweet Christ! Kirsty, what happened? Who did this to you?" She was shaking slightly, her head bowed once more. "One of the girls. Apparently her boyfriend said he fancied me and she thought I was trying to take him away from her." Her voice had changed, almost becoming a monotone and something just didn't ring true to me. It gave the impression that she was delivering a prepared response, something she had rehearsed. "Are you sure Kirsty?" I asked. "Yeh, it was one of the girls." I thought of her personal notes and wondered whether it was possible that this was her father's doing. No, I couldn't believe any father would do this to his own child, especially not one who seemed to be so grounded as Kirsty. Something in me told me I had to ask the question though. "Kirsty, was this your father's doing? Did your father do this to you?" I was stunned to see by her reaction that I had hit the mark. Her head snapped up and the look of fear in her eyes told me that that was it. I couldn't believe this. My own upbringing was anything but sheltered, but to see the injuries on her body, to realise that they had been made by blows - punches? Kicks? - from her own father, just seemed somehow alien. "I need to report this Kirsty." I had hardly managed to get the words out before she leapt on me. "No, no, no. You can't do that. I trusted you. I thought you really understood, you can't." Tears welled from her eyes. I was struggling with the whole situation now, out of my depth. I had read articles, watched documentaries that dealt with abused wives and how they somehow rationalised the behaviour of their abusers. Newsprint and TV didn't prepare me for this however, the scale of her injuries and the clear depth of her fear, concern that I would report her father. I just couldn't square those things, couldn't put myself in her shoes and imagine what it was that would lead to her being willing to take such punishment and still try to protect him. "Kirsty, you have to deal with this. It's not the first time he's hit you is it? This is even worse than the bullying. Where will it stop, when he seriously maims you? When he kills you? Please trust me angel, we need to get you some help." "I thought you understood, you're just like all the rest. Mum abandoned me, I was too much trouble and now you're threatening to take my father away too. He's all I've got left. If you get him taken away what happens to me then, ay? What happens to me then?" She collapsed back on the chair, her shoulders heaving, her sobbing loud and punctuated by an almost hiccuping sound. I sank to my knees in front of her, taking her delicate little hands in mine. "Please angel, you have to trust me once more. We need to bring in social services. You can't go on living like this - that's not living, that's hardly even surviving. Believe me, life has got far more to offer you, you've got far more to offer life. Don't allow yourself to let this continue, fight back, stand up for yourself, for the person you're going to be!" Something I had said must have made an impression because she calmed down quite a bit. I wasn't sure what it was but her next words told me. "You called me angel. Do you really think I'm an angel?" "Oh shit," I thought, "she's in the middle of all this and she picks up on the fact that I loosely called her angel? I really am in trouble." She was looking at me, waiting for a response. "Look, that's not important right now. We need to get you some help, medical assistance first by the looks of things. Button up your blouse and we'll get you to the school nurse. Even angels need help and you're going to have to let me speak to social services to see if they've got anyone who fits the bill." Whether she had accepted the need for social services or not she began to button her blouse and I took that as a positive sign. Once she had her dress in order we walked through the school to the nurses' station. I pulled the school nurse aside and gave her a brief description of Kirsty's injuries, suggesting the need for a hospital visit. I told Kirsty that I had to disappear for a moment but would be back soon. I hastened to the office and barged into the Head's office without knocking. Henderson was working on some papers and he looked up, surprised by my unannounced entrance. I quickly filled him in on the consultation with Kirsty's teachers, my conversation with Kirsty herself and my suspicions about her father abusing her. The Head agreed we needed to get social services involved. He called Jill and asked for Kirsty's confidential records, using those to get details of who the contact point was with social services. He indicated towards his phone, making it clear it was my show. I dialled the number for Brenda Fenshaw, the contact, and was surprised when I managed to get her on the first attempt - bureaucracy is just not what it used to be. I explained the situation once more and Brenda assured me that she would come to the school immediately. I returned to the nurses' station and sat with Kirsty. I explained to her that I had spoken to social services and that they were on their way to the school. Her head snapped up again, that same look of fear in her eyes. I took her hands in mine once more and tried to reassure her. We were still sitting like that when a small, stout, woman in brown tweeds bustled into the station. She looked at Kirsty and me, raising her eyebrows at the fact I was holding her hands, and then spoke to the nurse to try to identify the extent of Kirsty's injuries. Fenshaw twitched her head in the direction of the corridor, suggesting she wanted a private word with me. I squeezed Kirsty's hands before standing up and following the woman. "You seem to have the girl's trust. Would you be willing to travel with her to the hospital to see her have a check up?" I told her that I would be more than happy to do that. I also took the opportunity to ask her what action would be taken against Kirsty's father. "At this stage it's all second hand, there's no evidence he has actually hit her. We need to get Kirsty to make a statement to that effect before we can even begin to think about action." Bureaucracy seemed to be re-establishing itself! I shared the back of the ambulance with Kirsty. She held onto my hand like it was a lifebelt and her eyes remained riveted to mine for the whole journey. At last I had to let the hospital staff take her away for an examination although she did ask twice if it would be okay if I came with her. The nursing staff made it clear that was not an option and I watched her sad brown eyes staring at me as she was wheeled away. ------- Chapter 3: back on track I hung around the hospital, for some reason figuring she would need me to be there when they were done with her. Fenshaw had indicated she would be taking Kirsty to the social services offices afterwards, hoping to get her to open up a bit more and then take action against the father if appropriate. I was nervously looking at my watch, as I knew I had classes to teach still. Having other teachers cover your lessons gets old quick. They resent the extra duties and often you have to spend the next lessons unpicking all the bad habits they had passed on. I had a healthy Scottish Presbyterian work ethic and right now it was urging me to get back to the 'chalk face'. Eventually they were finished looking her over, with the verdict that nothing was broken, there were no serious internal injuries and no permanent damage had been done. Kirsty told me they had taken pictures of her injuries and I guessed these would be used as evidence if any charges were forthcoming. I didn't have long with her before Mrs Fenshaw whisked her away, just long enough to encourage her to be strong, to stand up for herself and then she was off. I had to take a taxi back to the school and arrived with barely enough time to prepare for my next lesson. Focussing on the learning outcomes was difficult as the vivid image of her battered and bruised young body returned in my head over and over. That level of violence was just alien to me, abhorrent. I somehow managed to get through the rest of the day and drove home almost on autopilot. My glass of wine that evening left a sour taste in my mouth. I looked round my comfortable sitting room, modern, every gadget a young single male might want and most of all - secure. I realised how lucky I was to have had a stable upbringing, loving parents and relative affluence. Kirsty had none of those advantages yet she had shown she was capable of pulling herself up, of rising to the huge challenges and making a better future for herself. Now her fucking asshole of an alcoholic father was in danger of undermining all of that. Months and months of her hard work was seemingly seeping away almost as her strength seeped away with each blow he gave her. I realised I was squeezing my wineglass with significant force as my anger welled up and I had to make a conscious effort to relax. The Head sent a note to ask to meet with him in his office around mid-morning the next day. When I entered the room it was to find Brenda Fenshaw already seated, a cup of coffee on the desk in front of her. Henderson told me to take a seat and he poured me a coffee too. "Ken, Mrs Fenshaw and her colleagues spent most of the afternoon with Kirsty but couldn't get her to implicate her father in relation to her injuries. Kirsty remained adamant that she had been attacked by one of the girls from this school. As a result, social services had to return Kirsty to her home last night." "That's appalling!" I cut him off, "she as much as admitted it to me, is my word not good enough?" "I'm afraid a court would rule it inadmissible. You only heard it second hand. What did Kirsty actually tell you?" I tried to replay my conversation with Kirsty back in my head. I realised that at no point had she actually confirmed her father had been to blame for her condition. "Look, she didn't actually say he did it, but the look on her face after I asked the question was answer enough. You've been there Headmaster; you know when you've hit the nail on the head. And afterwards, all her talk was about being scared of losing her father too, it was obvious she has been trying to cover up for him." "That might well be the case," said Fenshaw, "but unless she actually comes out and confirms he has assaulted her there is little we can do." "This is ridiculous! Now I know why we keep seeing these stories in the news about abuse, you've knowingly put that young girl back into a situation where she is being severely beaten. How can you look at yourself in the mirror? What will it take to get you to take action? More broken bones?" I raged. "Don't try and tell me how to do my job young man! Look at you, one abused teenager and you're on your moral high horse. You don't know the half of it. Every day I have to deal with kids from broken homes, kids with parents that are out of their minds on heroin most of the time, kids who barely see their parents from one day to the next and don't know where the next meal is coming from. I see ten; twenty Kirsty's everyday and I do the best I can for every one of them. I see kids as young as five or six looking after their baby brothers or sisters - going out to steal baby food and nappies and not a parent in sight. I find it's easy to look at myself in the mirror because I do the best job I can. What I do find it difficult to do is sleep at night." I was rocked back by the strength of feeling in her outburst; by the way the air almost became heavier around me due to the weight of her words and the despair they described. The pictures she conjured up in just a few sentences painted a world that I was thankful I didn't have more experience of, more contact with. I realised that she was right and I had become so personally involved in the situation with Kirsty that I wasn't being objective anymore. I also realised my comments were completely unfair given what she had to deal with and I apologised. "Look, we talked to Kirsty's father last night, gave him a rough time. He knows we suspect him and if past performance is anything to go by, her trouble will stop for a while. We've never been able to pin anything on him but I think she really will be safe for now. Okay? You seem to have gained her trust. When I spoke with her yesterday it's clear that she sees you as the first person in a very long time, possibly ever, who has shown an interest in helping her. In many ways she has supplanted her real father with you as a father figure. You need to be understanding and support her if you can. I can't over emphasise how key your relationship with Kirsty might be. I also have to warn you that she is a young girl and her emotions are very mixed up right now. She might start to come on to you sexually and you will need to be able to let her down gently or risk her feeling rejected all over again. Do you think you can handle that?" It was a lot to consider. I had started out on this as simply thinking I was doing what I would do for any pupil. I now seemed to be a part time social worker and I wasn't sure that I was comfortable about getting more central to Kirsty's issues. I looked at the Head and he simply shrugged his shoulders. I reluctantly agreed, but still expressed concerns over Kirsty remaining at home. I had to make do with Fenshaw's promise that they would be dropping in to pay Mr MacLeod a visit every now and then over the next few months to continue to make the point he was under suspicion. Kirsty dropped by my classroom at the end of the day. Her eyes were still red-rimmed from all the crying she had been doing and even now she seemed close to tears once more. "I'm sorry sir, I couldn't do it. I just know they'll take dad away and I'm not strong enough to deal with that. I've let you down I know but please try to understand?" She got out in a rush. "Kirsty the most important thing is that you're safe. I want you to promise me that you'll leave the house if he seems to be getting violent again, don't wait until it's too late, just get out. I know it's tough with everything that's been going on, but you also need to try and hit the books again if you feel up to it. You've only got three weeks before your exams and you've some ground to make up." She rushed forward and hugged me close. "I promise sir, honest!" I absently stroked her hair, holding her head to my chest; just trying to give her some comfort and support. She looked up at me and there was the beginning of a smile on her face again. "Okay, off with you, and work hard okay?" It was surprising just how easy it seemed for her to drop back into her previous way of working. It was almost like she could flip a switch and turn off her memories of the abuse somehow and get back into the study habits she had begun to develop. I checked in with her teachers over the next few weeks and they all gave her the thumbs up, indicating they thought she would do well in the forthcoming exams. I saw Kirsty several times during the exams as I had invigilator duty on a number of the papers she sat. Although she beamed me her usual big smile she was clearly focussed and very businesslike. I secretly hoped she would get good marks to help re-inforce the changes she was making in her life. Mrs Fenshaw dropped by the school once more to confirm that social services were calling on Mr MacLeod and that everything seemed as well as could be expected at home, as well as could be expected with a man who was drinking a litre of cheap vodka every day. She was a little worried at my description of Kirsty being able to switch off the abuse, worried that she might somehow be bottling things up and going into denial. She suggested I let Kirsty get her exams out of the way and then try to get her to open up a little more on how she was really handling things. I wasn't sure that was a great idea, but decided Fenshaw was the expert and said I would give it a go. Over the course of the next week I had a procession of Kirsty's teachers come to see me to share her results from the exams. They were all delighted, as she had scored well and in the standard grade exam itself would have received credits in all her subjects. The count over the six main subjects was four twos and two ones - a great set of results for anybody to achieve, but given the level she had come from they were truly remarkable. There's nothing like an 'under-performing pupil turns things round and achieves great results' story to get teachers excited. It's what we live for and now Kirsty had brought huge smiles and a fair degree of pride in their work for each of her teachers. I had to admit to feeling a great deal of personal pride at the part I had played too. God that girl was good! I knew the school was going to share the third year exam results on the Friday of the following week. After that the classes would change timetables to those that would apply for their fourth year. I knew that I was taking the fourth year standard grade class and therefore it looked like I would have Kirsty to teach on the lead up to these important milestones in her life. I admitted to myself that I was looking forward to having her around more. The day the results were given out I fully expected to see her and she didn't disappoint me. She did leave me hanging for a bit by waiting until the end of the day before she once more burst into my classroom and threw herself into my arms in another full-body hug. As before my hands went automatically to her little butt cheeks to take her weight and she reached up and planted one soft kiss on my lips. I dropped her as if I had been scalded and she laughed loudly at my panic. "Oh sir, you are just so easy! Did you hear about my results? Two ones and four twos - isn't that fantastic?" From her response I realised she had been deliberately teasing me to see if she could get a reaction and I had obviously satisfied her on that score. I recovered myself with some difficulty and congratulated her on her results. "Well done Kirsty, exactly what you deserve for all the work you've put in. I was particularly pleased to see your highest mark was in business management." "I couldn't let you down sir, I promised I would work at it and I did. Anyway it's my favourite subject and you're my favourite teacher. I knew I had to score well so I could be in your class for fourth year!" She had backed up and plonked herself down on one of the desks, leaning back as she supported herself with both hands on the desk, her legs off the floor and beginning to swing backwards and forwards. Although I had only been teaching for four or five years, I already had quite a bit of experience with young girls and their emerging sexuality. It really was quite common for them to practice their seduction techniques, flex their burgeoning attractiveness to see what effect it had on the opposite sex. The boys were pretty pathetic in comparison. I always knew when they had just come from sex ed as it was nigh on impossible to control them. They giggled at every opportunity for sexual innuendo, thinking this somehow made them look like 'big men' and more attractive to the girls. A simple reference to something being a 'hard market to break into' had them falling out of their seats like - well, like schoolboys I suppose. As a teacher you sometimes made things worse when you tried to control them. I remember putting my foot in it with one boy who had been reduced to a giggling wreck by my comment about 'stiff competition'. "Oh grow up Johnson!" I snapped and that led to howls of laughter, even the girls joining in. Yes, the girls were more mature. Their dawning realisation of how their bodies affected men, gave them power over them, was something of a fascination for the girls and they all did it to one degree or another. It was all part of growing up and I had never let it bother me before, had always managed to smile and brush it off easily. With Kirsty it wasn't so easy I realised. She was smiling to herself as her swinging legs eased her back and forward a little on the desk top, the movement slowly rucking her skirt and lifting it slowly up her legs. I realised I was staring at the hem as it gradually climbed and shook my head, licking my suddenly dry lips as I tried to focus on what she was saying. My pleasure at having her in my class again was something I was starting to rethink. If she could have this affect on me within minutes of coming into my classroom, what kind of torture might I expect over the coming school year? The hem of her skirt had just reached mid-thigh, almost at a point where her panties would be exposed if she let it rise any higher. "Oops, sorry sir. I know how you feel about that and I shouldn't really tease you should I." She said it with a grin that made it clear she was enjoying the whole thing and the obvious effect she was having on me. "Well, got to go, I've got a hot date lined up for tonight to celebrate my results and I need to get myself ready." With that she hopped off of the desk and sashayed out of the room, her little bubble butt making the pleats off her skirt flick from side to side. She gave me one last look over her shoulder, undoubtedly to make sure I was watching her little show, and grinned as she disappeared out the door. Once she had left the room I took the opportunity to adjust myself, my cock hard and uncomfortable in the position it had been in. Something was bothering me and I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "Shit!" I realised, "I'm feeling jealous! She's going out with someone her own age and I'm jealous. Man, you need to get a serious grip of yourself!" I thought to myself. But at home that Friday night I couldn't help thinking about where she might be and who she might be with as I drank my wine alone. ------- The next week brought the change in timetables and I had to spend a lot of my weekend reviewing my lesson plans and updating material so that I could do the best I could for my students. Some people think teachers have an easy life, weeks of holidays and so on. Believe me, if you're serious about your vocation, the amount of preparation time, not to mention marking and making up examination questions etc means we put in a lot of extra hours. On top of that there's the parents nights where we sit and have parents poking questions at us about why their precious little darlings are not doing as well as they should - sometimes past ten o'clock at night after having arrived at the school for eight that morning. It's difficult sometimes to stop yourself from pointing out that it's their precious little darling's disruptive behaviour that's actually holding them and others in their class back. Okay, it's not heavy duty like being down a mine or humping stuff all day in construction, but it's not as cushy as some people think! Anyway, I spent almost twelve hours on Saturday and Sunday reviewing my material, searching for informative content on the web and thinking up interactive exercises that would help to make my subject relevant to them. 'Make it relevant and you'll get their attention' was one of my maxims. Too many kids switched off quickly because they couldn't see the point of a lesson. I always tried to link my plans to something that highlighted how that knowledge would be useful to them today, not next week or in ten year's time, but today. Oh, and I also tried to make my lessons fun. How about that? I was well prepared for my first lesson with the soon to be fourth years on Monday. The subject was 'What resources do businesses use?', and I was covering assets and why it was important to maximise their use. "Kevin, how often do you have to save up your cash so you can afford the latest computer game - possibly even having to wait weeks after it's released before you can afford it?" Kevin Grimes thought about that for a few seconds before responding. "Um, a couple of times a year sir I guess." "How many old games have you got Kevin?" "Lots sir." "And how often do you play your old games?" "Never I guess." "So Kevin, if you were a business you would have an asset sitting doing nothing but gathering dust while you had do without the latest thing on the market, the thing that all your customers want. If you're not using them why don't you trade them in at the store and use the money to buy the latest game quicker? Heck use the money to buy whatever it is you've been saving up for" I could see many of the heads in the class nod as they cottoned on to the concept and was satisfied that I had their attention. I split them into groups and had them work through some other problems together as I walked round the class. Kirsty was watching me I saw, but not with the expression she'd worn earlier in my classes. Now she seemed more composed, more sure of herself than before. She had taken the same desk as she had before, right in the front row but the lesson passed off without her doing anything untoward. She did take the opportunity to brush up against me as she was leaving the class but that was pretty tame stuff. I remembered that I had promised Mrs Fenshaw that I would try and have a conversation with Kirsty about how she was coping with her father's abuse. I decided to try that after class on Friday when I had Kirsty's class last thing in the day. When I pulled her aside and told her I wanted her to hang back after class it seemed to have a calming effect on her and she didn't get up to anything during the lesson. She remained in her seat as her fellow students filed out and I pulled a chair over to sit beside her. She had a look of curiosity on her face, curious about what I wanted to talk to her about. "Kirsty, I wanted to have a chat about how things are at home," I started, "is everything going okay?" I could see the shutters come down immediately and knew that I was going to have work hard if I wanted to get anything out of this conversation. "What do you mean sir?" "It's just that you appear to have managed to put things behind you very quickly and I'm just a little concerned that you might be refusing to face up to the potential danger you could be in." "Sir, do you have a girlfriend?" I wasn't expecting that and was flustered for a few moments, she smiled as she realised she had put me off my stride. "That's none of your business young lady. Now, back to the point, are you being careful around your father like I told you? Has he threatened you at all?" "Sir, it's alright, really. Dad's been fine and I'm okay. I've even got a boyfriend, we're going out again tonight." As she said this she half turned and leant towards me. At some point during the lesson she had managed to take off her tie and had loosened the top three buttons on her blouse without me seeing her. Now her blouse billowed open as she bent and I was treated to a view of her bra-covered breasts, probably only thirty-four bs. I was mesmerised by the look and shape of them and it took me a moment before I jerked my head up and chastised her. "Kirsty, behave! I shouldn't have to tell you again, that's not proper behaviour." She pouted at me but did button her blouse up. "Sir, do all men try to paw women's breasts? It's just that my boyfriend keeps trying that and I feel as if it would be better if he took his time and was more gentle, you know?" Now it seemed I was to play confidante and adviser. I remembered Fenshaw suggesting Kirsty might see me as a father figure and it was clear she wouldn't be getting any relationship advice from her natural father. Perhaps against my own better judgement I decided to give her a little leeway. "Have you told him what you want Kirsty? Have you explained how his behaviour affects you? Sometimes the most difficult part of a relationship is effective communication. There are so many aspects of society that individuals find it difficult to talk about, but the strongest relationships are based on effective communication I think. Try talking to your boyfriend a bit more, encourage him to open up." "And is it okay to let him touch my breasts sir?" I had the sudden urge to tell her that of course it wasn't alright to allow some snot nosed little shit to touch her lovely little breasts, but I managed to hold that in. "That's up to you Kirsty. You have to decide what it is you want, what you're ready for. Girls are normally more mature than boys, so it's perhaps best if you set the boundaries. All I will say is that you've had your sex ed and know the consequences of sex - both in terms of pregnancy and STDs." "Oh sir, are you suggesting that I have sex with my boyfriend?" "Kirsty, you're not listening. I said you should set the boundaries, I'm not telling what to do and what not to do. That's up to you. All I'm saying is make sure you're doing what 'you' want, don't be pressurised into anything. As I say, try to get your boy to communicate with you." "Oh, okay. I think I see what you mean sir. I'll try to talk to Derek tonight and if he gets it right I might let him play with my breasts - but nothing else. Listen, I have to go now sir, I need to get ready to go out. But I really appreciate you talking to me like this, honest. Thanks sir." I spent another difficult Friday night alone. She had shown me those perfect little breasts and then talked about letting someone stroke them. I couldn't shake the image of that out of my head. I was embarrassed to be sitting in my lounge chair, the TV on in the background, a glass of wine in my hand and my cock hard as a rock in my pants. ------- Chapter 4: Standard Grades I had set up a work placement for Kirsty with one of my friends who was a senior manager with a local company. The placement was a little unimaginative - two weeks in the human resources department - but I knew the practical experience would be invaluable to her. The school looked to identify placements for as many students as possible and this one was easy enough. Before she went on the placement I had one more 'advisor' talk with Kirsty, this time she held back after class to initiate the discussion. "Sir, can I ask you for some more advice?" I was caught in two minds. While I wanted to help her as much as I could, I remembered how I had been affected a few weeks previously and didn't want to suffer through a repeat. "What can I help you with Kirsty?" I asked. "Well sir, I took your advice about Derek and tried to encourage him to talk to me. I explained I didn't like the way he was always trying to paw me and that he might get on better if he went a little slower and was more gentle." "Good Kirsty, I hope it worked." "Well it did and it didn't sir. He was gentle at first, stroking my breasts, and it started to feel real good. It was like I could feel a connection between my boobs and, you know, my... , well, between my legs." I gulped quickly as her words created an image in my head. "Anyway sir, he only did that for a few minutes and then he moved his hand and tried to put it up my skirt. I was disappointed, as I had started to enjoy what he was doing, but then he spoiled it all by trying to push his clumsy paws into my panties. I think I need to find a boyfriend with more experience sir, someone who knows how to teach others, who can take his time and help his partner enjoy herself. What do you think?" "I think you need to be sure about what you're doing Kirsty." I temporised. "If you continue to communicate with your partner there is a lot to be said for learning together. But you're right, he needs to learn to take his time and to think about your enjoyment at least as much if not more than his own." "That's what I mean sir, see, you know what I'm getting at. Derek seems to be in an almighty rush to get somewhere and I'm not sure he and I want to get to the same place!" "Well, you'll just have to work it out between you Kirsty. Just remember what I said and don't let yourself be pressurised into doing anything you don't want to." "That's just it though sir, I'm not sure I don't want to. It's just that I'm finding it difficult to know because he is so inexperienced. It started to feel good so maybe I do want that. I guess I'm going to have to get him to slow down huh?" "I think that might be a very good idea young lady." I thought this discussion had gone very well, a lot better than the previous one and I replayed my advice, re-assuring myself I had managed to steer a reasonable path. ------- Before her placement Kirsty and I discussed the kind of things she should be looking to experience. I covered the fourth year course material and indicated the kinds of things that would help her in the coming year. Unbeknown to her I had had a similar conversation with my friend to make sure he designed a placement that would maximise her opportunities to learn. I surprised myself by missing Kirsty's presence for the next two weeks. It seemed I was almost becoming addicted to her being around, but I told myself to get used to it as the end of term was only days after the end of her placement and I wouldn't see her for seven weeks. She was full of her work experience when she returned and I could get nothing else out of her for the last few days of school before the summer break. It was clear she had used her time well and had sucked every last drop of knowledge she could from her time in 'industry'. She did calm down enough to wish me a pleasant summer before she left on the last day and I wished her the same as I watched her leave my classroom for the last time as a third year. ------- I spent three weeks recharging my batteries in the delights of the French countryside. I had rented a Gîte and lazed around soaking up the sun and sipping cheap French plonk. The local market was a delight to walk round, fresh produce of all descriptions available, and I didn't hold back on sampling everything that took my fancy. The Gîte was comfortable and I easily found my way round its well-furnished kitchen. All in all it was a very pleasant break, and a complete break too - no thoughts of school or lessons - absolute bliss. On my return home I disciplined myself to carry out the range of little jobs around the house that I had put off. I split my time between painting, gardening and reviewing my material for the coming year's lessons. As the break was coming to an end I at last admitted something that had been eating away inside my head all summer - I was really looking forward to seeing Kirsty again. I was missing her. I knew it was more than just the delight at how good a pupil she was, how well she applied herself to her learning. I finally gave in and accepted that I was also enjoying her little sex games. They were harmless enough so long as I didn't do anything stupid and I had absolutely no intention of that. I was in school the week before the kids returned, working on my classroom materials to make sure they were as good as I could get them. Then, at last, the first Monday of the new school year arrived and my new classes began to appear one by one. Kirsty's class was the first one after lunch on Monday, a double lesson, with further lessons on Wednesday morning, Thursday morning and last thing on Friday. I almost didn't recognise her when she took her customary seat in the front row. "Wow!" I thought. She was simply stunning. Some of her time over the summer had been spent working on a deep tan and she certainly suited the colour. She had done some other things too. Her hair had been styled - I had never before seen her with anything other than a plain cut - and she wore subtle touches of make-up. Her eyes were now outlined with eyeliner and the black highlighted her deep brown eyes and drew you into them. Her lip colour was natural but she had applied some kind of gloss that made them shine. The effect was incredible, making her look more like eighteen than the fifteen I knew she had just turned. I could see that she had noticed the effect her new look had had on me and her shy smile told me she was pleased. I called on her to answer a number of questions during the double lesson and was delighted with her answers, which showed she had covered the material over the break in readiness for the year to begin. It was highly unusual to find a pupil who went to those lengths to prepare themselves and for some reason it made me really happy. While the class was working quietly on some materials I had set them I couldn't help but watch her. It was clear that her uniform was brand new this year and I wondered where the money for the haircut, make-up and clothes had come from. The white blouse was somewhat more sheer than any she had worn before and a lace-trimmed bra was clearly visible through the material. It certainly looked very nice and the white blouse did a wonderful job of complementing her sun-tanned complexion. I didn't think she was aware of my scrutiny but I had to think again when I noticed her legs flex, causing her much shorter skirt to ride up. Once more I was treated to a view of her panties, but brand new panties this time, lace trimmed to match the bra. I swear I could see a little patch of dampness on the crotch as I dragged my eyes away from her treasures. When I looked up she had her head down and was working away diligently. I assumed I had avoided being caught staring up her skirt and focussed myself on the remainder of the lesson. I knew she had another lesson after mine so she wouldn't be able to linger, thank heaven for little blessings I thought. She did make a point of being last to leave the class so she could at least have a word. "You look great sir, I take it you had a good break?" "Yes I did Kirsty, thanks. I must say that you seem to have changed your appearance too. The sun suits you obviously." She smiled widely at that. "Did you miss me sir?" She asked. The question was so unexpected that I answered without thinking. "Lots, Kirsty." I could have kicked myself for that slip, especially when I saw her smile widen. "Well I missed you lots too sir, especially our little chats. I missed having somebody who could give me advice. But I had to take a summer job so I could earn enough to buy a new uniform so I was kinda busy most of the time. Oh yeh, and I studied hard too." I was impressed by her work ethic, impressed enough to comment on it. "That sounds like a busy summer Kirsty and your new uniform looks good, every credit for your hard work to raise the money." "Mmhm, I could see you liked it, all of it. And before you give me into trouble again for flashing my panties at you, I won't do it again. But I did pay a lot of money for them so I had to let you see them at least once." That all came out in something of a rush and before I could respond she twirled and dashed from the room. I shook my head at her antics and set about using the free last period to prepare for my classes the next day. She was true to her word; she never did flash her pants at me during class adain - but afterwards... well I shouldn't get ahead of myself. I kept what I considered a paternal eye on Kirsty's progress through this important year. All of her teachers reported she was flying. As if her schoolwork wasn't enough to contend with, she also joined the school debating society, unusual for a fourth year, and I sat in the audience and watched her perform very confidently indeed. There was no doubt about it; she was developing into a fine human being. She was intelligent, witty, sensitive and very beautiful. Any father would have been proud of her - except perhaps her own and she deserved so much more. As winter set in I was dismayed to see just how unprepared she was to handle the cold weather. Her only 'coat' was in fact her school blazer and not for the first time I raged about the man who spent god knows how much per week on drink, but couldn't buy his daughter a warm jacket to ward off the cold. I considered trying to find one for her in lost property, but I knew that wouldn't work this time. My chances of finding a coat or jacket that would fit her and not look like it was years out of fashion were precisely nil. I knew I shouldn't but I couldn't stop myself. I purchased a jacket, much like all the other girls were wearing, and sewed one of those little name labels inside. I wrote 'Kirsty Macleod' on the label and hung the jacket up on one of the hooks in my classroom. I banked on one of the other girls picking up this jacket and checking the label, hoping she would then simply hand it to Kirsty. That's what happened and I watched as Kirsty checked the label and found her name on it. She immediately looked towards me but I had anticipated that and was turning away to clean off my whiteboard. It was obviously a difficult issue for her because she didn't refer to it over the next few days. Kirsty's great progress suffered a significant hiccup two weeks before Christmas. We had had only two more of her little 'I need your advice sir' sessions and they had been relatively tame, amusing even. I thought I had coped with them well. It was Wednesday afternoon, I had had Kirsty's class that morning and there was nothing out of the ordinary. A note was flicked under my door and I set the class I had at that moment a task while I walked over and picked it up. The note was from the Head and it asked me to come to his office immediately. I knocked on the door of the class next to mine and asked my colleague to keep an eye on my class, as I had to go to see the Head. When I arrived at Henderson's office I was shocked to find a dishevelled Kirsty sitting outside, a livid bruise on her cheek and her clothes filthy. She avoided my look as I knocked on the Head's door and entered his office. "Take a seat Ken, I'm sorry I had to get you out of class, but this is important. Kirsty MacLeod has assaulted another pupil; Grace Simpson who happened to be passing witnessed the incident. Apparently the other girl, I'm not sure if you know her - Jenny MacCulloch - pulled on Kirsty's jacket sleeve and seems to have ripped the jacket. Grace says the response from Kirsty was completely unbelievable. She turned on the other girl, leaping on hr in fact, and pulled her to the ground, punching her repeatedly. The MacCulloch girl tried to fight back but Grace says that Kirsty's assault was ferocious." He paused as if to let me comment but I was so strung up inside at what seemed to have been the cause of the fight that I said nothing. "Anyway, I will of course make sure the parents of the girl make full recompense for the damage to Ms MacLeod's property but you know the school rules, I will need to enforce a suspension of two weeks for Ms MacLeod." I managed to find my voice at last. "Headmaster, I think there might be extenuating circumstances here. Kirsty has an exemplary record through her time here at the school, no trouble at all. You know what her home circumstances are like. I know that she has taken on part-time work in order to earn money to buy her own school uniform and the jacket in question. She has very little and I'm afraid her reaction might reflect that and what she has learned at home from her father." I could see he was considering this and pressed my case. "Headmaster, I'm assuming that you called me here instead of sending for her father because we both know her family circumstances. In effect you are asking me to act 'in loco parentis'. That being the case, I would have to remind you what two weeks at home might mean for Kirsty, two weeks of being exposed all day to her drunk and abusive father." "Okay Ken, I take your points. In the circumstances I am willing to reduce the suspension to one week, but I must be seen to take action against her. Violence is violence and it is not to be countenanced!" I knew that was the best deal I was going to get for Kirsty, indeed was surprised that he had agreed to reduce the punishment and to do so as quickly as he had. "Okay, shall I bring her in? You will have to take her home I'm afraid." I nodded and he opened his door and asked Kirsty to join us. She walked in, her head bowed, the offending jacket in her arms. She didn't look at me as she took a seat as directed in front of Henderson's desk. "Ms MacLeod I'm sure I don't have to tell you how much trouble you are in. This school will not tolerate violence of any kind and I am shocked at your behaviour. While I understand that your property was damaged that is no excuse to resort to attacking another pupil, no excuse at all. I will ensure the parents of Ms MacCulloch buy you a new jacket to replace the one that has been damaged, but..." Before he could carry on Kirsty interjected. "No! I'm sorry for interrupting you Headmaster, but I don't want a new jacket. I'm perfectly capable of repairing this one and it's this one I want." "Very well Ms MacLeod. You know the school's policies. I should be suspending you for two weeks for violent conduct but on this occasion I have decided to reduce that to one week, effective immediately. Do you have anything to say in your defence? No? Okay, Ken would you please see that Ms MacLeod gets home okay?" She said nothing as we walked through the school, but as soon as we were in my car she burst into tears and began to apologise. "I'm sorry sir, I'm so sorry, I know I shouldn't have but the jacket..." Her sobbing overtook her ability to speak and she huddled into herself, her shoulders turned inward and her chin on her chest as she blubbed away. "Kirsty, it's important that you don't let this suspension affect your work. I fully expect you to spend every day in the library, working on the lessons that you're missing." This was my way of telling her I didn't want her spending a week at home with her father, I just didn't trust the bastard, a bastard funnily enough that I might be about to meet for the first time. "Now listen to me miss. You've got to get yourself together. A jacket is only that, just a jacket. Your education is far more important and I'm extremely disappointed in you. What you did is the kind of thing your father does - respond with violence. Why did you join the debating society if you plan to settle your arguments by simply thumping the other person? Is that the next thing? You disagree with a point somebody on the other debating team makes and you run over and punch them?" I suppose I had gone well over the top in trying to make my point, so over the top that Kirsty actually found it funny. Perhaps her nerves played a part but I clearly heard her start to giggle. I'd started driving with a vague idea of where she lived but now I had to ask her for directions to the precise location. "Okay Kirsty, you're going to have to raise your head and guide me in." She did so and I glanced across at the pronounced lump on her cheek. "You should really put some ice on that bruise on your cheek." I told her. She turned to look at me, defiance in her eyes. "Well she looks worse I can assure you!" She said. She was so intense, her eyes so beautiful and I burst out laughing at such a ham line. At first she looked annoyed, but then she also saw the funny side and we laughed together. We pulled up outside her house and I got out of the car to open her door. "Um, you don't have to come in do you sir?" She asked hopefully. "I'm sorry Kirsty, it might be pointless but I'm going to have to try and tell your father what's happened. I'll try to do that in such a way that it doesn't expose you to his violence, okay?" She nodded and we walked up the path to her front door and she fished out a key to let us in. We walked down a narrow hallway that opened up into a sitting room. Kirsty carried on to what I supposed was her bedroom. I looked round the room. It was tidy, clean and I could guess who was responsible for that. It certainly wasn't the awful looking specimen who was sitting on the sofa, a half empty bottle of vodka in front of him. Mr MacLeod was a mess. He looked about five foot ten although it was difficult to tell as he was sitting down. He was wearing a greasy tee shirt and filthy sweat pants. He was fat. His face was fat. His face was unshaven; the skin blotched, as is often the case with people who drink too much. He was also belligerent. "Who the fuck are you!" He demanded. "I'm one of Kirsty's teachers. There's been a problem at school and I've had to bring her back with me." "What has the stupid cow done now? Kirsty, get your arse in here!" "Mr MacLeod," I lied, "Kirsty hasn't done anything wrong. She just needs to be here right now, not at the school. She'll be out of your hair tomorrow." I hoped Kirsty would get my meaning, that she should pretend to go to school the next day and simply go to the library instead. While I had intended to try to talk to the man I could see that he was beyond that and I simply lied to avoid any problems. I tried to keep the contempt for him off of my face, a man in name only, certainly not in his actions and certainly not a father. I smiled encouragingly at Kirsty as I took my leave. ------- Chapter 5: Exam time It was a mark of how much Kirsty's teachers liked her that they all came to me the next day with notes, handouts and textbook page numbers so she could study what she would be missing. I knew Kirsty's habit of reading ahead and preparing herself in advance of the curriculum would mean she had already covered the material, but didn't have the heart to tell them that given their good intentions. I visited the library on the pretext of handing over the notes. I knew Kirsty wouldn't need them, but it was an excuse to go and see how she was doing. I found her deep in concentration, sitting alone at a table, her books spread around her. I just watched her for a few minutes, enjoying the sight. Then she looked up and spotted me, a smile forming on her lips. "Your teachers are worried about you slacking so they've all given me instructions for what you need to cover." I said as I approached her table and sat down. "Really? Wow, that's so thoughtful of them. Could you thank them for me?" "Thank them yourself by studying the work and doing well in your exams, that's what we teachers live for. You should know that by now." I remained with her talking for twenty minutes or so, confirming that she hadn't had any problems with the 'Bozo' as I had come to think of him. She really was an intelligent girl, witty, and just good company to be with. The Headmaster must have had the MacCulloch girl in to see him because as far as I could see there was no lingering resentment after Kirsty returned to school. I could certainly find no fault in Kirsty's learning from her weeklong suspension; she slipped back into things as if she had never been away. The swelling and bruising had all but gone, leaving her face back to its beautiful best. She watched me as I taught and I found I was growing used to it, expected it even. The school was on the run up to Christmas and that meant the traditional Christmas dances for the various age groups. These were regarded with mixed feelings to be honest. The boys saw them as an opportunity to dance with the girls, but most of them struggled to work up the nerve to ask one. The girls saw it more as a fashion parade I think, all trying to outdo each other. I normally avoided them like the plague, but this year I had decided I was going to be on duty. I rationalised this to myself on the basis that I needed to check out 'Derek' to make sure Kirsty was safe with him. In the week leading up to the dance Kirsty asked if she could have another of our 'chats'. She came round to my classroom at the end of the day and took up one of her favourite positions, sitting on a desk at the front of the class, legs swinging. What can I help you with now Kirsty?" I asked her. "Um, it's Derek sir." "What about Derek, Kirsty?" "He wants, he, he wants me to play with his cock, I mean penis sir." She dropped her head but I could see her cheeks redden with embarrassment. I was glad she was looking down because my jaw had dropped at both her language and the topic she wanted advice on. This was new, uncharted territory but I knew she had to ask someone about these things. My determination to lay eyes (and possibly hands!) on this Derek was now absolute. "Ok, and how do you feel about that Kirsty?" I managed to get out. "I don't know sir, kinda frightened I guess. I've never touched one before and I don't know what to expect. He says that since I'm enjoying him playing with my boobs that he should be getting some fun too, but I don't know." "Kirsty, relationships are not like business management. It's not about a trade here, - I've done this so now you should do that. You only do what you want to do, nothing else. A relationship can be about many things, but mostly it's about mutual respect, romance, supporting each other and most of all sharing. If only one of you wants to do something then that's not sharing. Sex is only part of a relationship, an important part I'll grant you, but there's far more to it than that. Sharing joy, laughter, sorrow. Shared interests. Working together to achieve something. It can be all of these. If you ask me, Derek sounds a little shallow." I couldn't help that last bit slipping out, I really was starting to dislike this 'Derek' and I had never met him! "But sir. He keeps trying to touch me here." As she said this she pulled up her grey skirt and let her middle finger run across the crotch of her lace panties. The finger clearly traced the dimple formed by her sex and I gulped as my eyes almost popped out of my head. She had done this without warning and I stared for a second before recovering, snapping my eyes away from her perfect little slit, and taking her to task. "Kirsty, I thought we'd agreed you wouldn't do that again in class? Now cover up young lady or this conversation is at an end!" "But sir, I only promised not to in class, and we're not really in a lesson, are we?" Her smile was catlike, she knew I had been affected by her little display and she was pleased. "Stop splitting hairs Kirsty. Now, behave and we can talk, keep doing things like that and we stop and I won't agree to do this again." She appeared suitably contrite I thought. "Sorry sir. So, are you saying I shouldn't play with him unless I really want to?" "Exactly. I keep telling you, only do what you want to, no pressure." "Okay. I admit I'm curious to see one and I think I do want to touch it. So, I think I'll go ahead. Is there any particular way I should touch it or hold it?" She asked. My head was swimming. The sight of her little pantie covered sex and now the thought of her 'playing' with Derek's cock was getting to me big time and it took me a few moments before I could respond. "Err, that's probably something you need to talk to Derek about Kirsty. Different people like different things. Remember, effective communication between you both is important. Ask him how he likes it held, what feels best for him." I couldn't really believe I was having this conversation, felt really uncomfortable. As a teacher I should be telling her not to even think about sex at her age but as a father figure I'm sure she now knew I would try to give her sound advice. Mostly I was growing increasingly angry. "How big will it be sir?" "Kirsty, you're going too far now. Please, behave." "But sir, I just want to be prepared. I don't want to make a fool of myself by not knowing what to expect." I could see her point, after all, she had already demonstrated her preparedness with regard to her lessons and I took what she said now at face value. "Ok, but it's not that simple. Penises come in all different shapes and sizes. I've really no idea what size Derek might be. They can range from anything around as small as four inches to a very few that might be over twelve inches." "How big is yours sir, maybe that will give me something to work with." I spluttered, couldn't believe that she had asked me this. "Enough Kirsty. That's quite enough. This conversation is at an end." "Sir, this is very important to me. If I make a fool of myself I don't think I'll ever be able to go out with a boy again." I put a finger between my shirt collar and my neck, pulling the collar, which seemed to suddenly have become very tight. Against my better judgement I relented. "Just over seven inches." I murmured quietly. "Over seven inches, is that big, small or average sir?" She said it so matter of fact and once more I was flustered. It's not comfortable talking about the size of your manhood with a young female who is quite obviously interested in you sexually while you are trying to walk a fine line in offering advice and remaining professional. "Just above average Kirsty, now that's enough for today, no more. I want to try and help you but I'm really not comfortable with this." She seemed to accept that she had taken things as far as she could and thanked me before almost skipping from the room. I was left sitting alone with a welter of conflicting emotions. I knew I was both angry and jealous of Derek. I was angry too at myself for how I had reacted to seeing Kirsty's panties and at her for pushing the boundaries ever further. I was also pleased with myself for not chickening out when the going got rough, the young girl did need advice and she had no one else to turn to. And there was another emotion I couldn't quite put a name to, something that was hovering in the back of my mind. Over the course of the next few nights I had some quite disturbing dreams in which Kirsty featured. In one I tried to save her as a faceless boy was quite clearly raping her, but failed. In another I saw myself kneeling between her legs, my mouth only inches away from her sex, but I managed to resist kissing her. I woke up sweating and berating myself. I really needed to get a grip. The dance for the fourth years was on the night before the last day of school before the Christmas break. I turned up casually dressed and was assigned the duty of patrolling in the main school hall where the dance was taking place. There were six of us just walking round to make sure nothing untoward was going on. The drapes had been pulled over the huge windows and a disco was playing loud music, with strobe lighting flashing. At first I couldn't pick Kirsty out, but after several circuits of the hall I spotted her. She was sitting at a table in mixed company, boys and girls. I looked each of the boys over carefully, especially the one sitting closest to Kirsty, but my eyes kept drifting back to her. She wasn't going to win the fashion stakes tonight but she did look extremely pretty to me. As I passed her table she smiled and gave me a little wave. I smiled and nodded back, not wanting to appear too familiar. Throughout the course of the evening I watched her dance a few times, always with the same boy from the table and I assumed this was 'Derek'. He was slightly built, tall - maybe five eleven or six foot already - with straggly hair and a smart if unimaginative outfit. I could see nothing out of the ordinary about him and he behaved himself so I couldn't really complain although I dearly wanted to. The evening was drawing to a close when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to find Kirsty standing before me, smiling up at me. "Would you dance with me please sir?" She asked. I burst out laughing, but stopped quickly when I saw the hurt look in her eyes. I had genuinely thought she was joking, but I had clearly upset her now. "Kirsty, I'm sorry. I thought you were joking, honest. Teachers can't dance with students, that's a big no-no." She turned and darted off, I called after her, but she ignored me and I knew I couldn't create a scene. She studiously ignored me for the rest of the night and left at the end arm in arm with 'Derek'. Once everyone was cleared from the hall and toilets etc checked I was free to go home. When I walked towards my car in the car park I could see a couple in an embrace close by it. They were kissing passionately and I knew before I got close to them that it would be Kirsty and sure enough it was. I kept my eyes focussed on my car until I was past them and didn't look back as I drove out of the car park. Kirsty was withdrawn and sullen the next day in class too. She shrugged by me at the end of the lesson, her last with me before the break and I hadn't received a Christmas card from her either. Some kids gave you cards, most didn't, but Kirsty had the year before and I had been fully expecting one. The fact that it hadn't been forthcoming and her mood in class confirmed for me if confirmation was needed that I had really messed up. I went through my usual Christmas ritual at my parent's house. We spent some time catching up on how things had been going in our lives while mum was in and out preparing Christmas dinner. Their dining table was groaning under the weight of the various dishes when we sat down to eat and all of us ate far too much as we always did. After dinner we sat in front of the telly while the food digested and we exchanged our presents. My duty done for the year, I returned home and when I opened the front door to enter I found an envelope lying on the mat behind the door. Closing the door behind me I hung up my coat and made my way into the sitting room. I put the envelope down beside my chair as I poured myself a glass of wine and relaxed in my favourite armchair. The envelope was bigger than a normal letter or envelope and when I opened it I found my Christmas card from Kirsty. The front of the card carried the legend To Someone Special and inside she had simply written Merry Christmas, all my love, Kirsty. There was no stamp on the card and I knew she had walked to my house to deliver the card personally, perhaps disappointed that I hadn't been at home. I didn't know how she had found out where I lived, but somehow she had. Once more I felt conflicting emotions. I was delighted she had bought me a card, if somewhat concerned at the nature of the card and the message within it. Surely this meant that she had forgiven me my crass behaviour at the dance? I was also disappointed myself that I hadn't been in when she called. I put the card on the mantle in pride of place and returned to my chair to sit quietly thinking about her. I wondered what kind of Christmas she might be having? It was probably unlikely the Bozo would have bought her a present and who knows what they would be having for their Christmas meal. Her defence of her father's behaviour suggested to me that she didn't have any other close relatives living nearby and she was probably therefore having a lonely time of it. I put down the wineglass and quickly put on my coat, locking my door and getting into the car. I drove across town and slowly past her house, turning and making my way past it a second time before parking a few yards beyond the path to her door. I turned my head and looked at the house - it was in darkness, no sign of life to be seen. For some reason that worried me. Where would they be on Christmas day? I knew I couldn't go to the door. How would I explain my presence? With no sign of activity, I put the car in gear and drove home. As I pulled into the driveway my headlights picked out Kirsty sitting huddled in her jacket on my front step. I got out of the car and hurriedly opened the door, ushering her inside to warm up. "You could have frozen to death silly." I told her as I turned up the gas fire and parked her in front of it. "I'm sorry to bother you sir, I just wanted to say I was sorry for being such a bad tempered little madam. I guess I kinda over-reacted, didn't I?" "It's okay Kirsty, I should have been a little more sensitive." I knew I should pack her in the car and take her home, but the thought of taking her back to the dark, uncaring house I had just sat outside, take her back to spend the rest of Christmas day on her own, or worse, with the Bozo, wasn't on. "Have you eaten?" I asked her. She looked up and I could see the hunger in her eyes, it was clear she hadn't eaten and perhaps hadn't done so for some time. I went into my kitchen and rummaged through the fridge to see what I could prepare for her. It being the Christmas holidays my fridge and cupboards were crammed with food. We tend to do that here in Scotland at Christmas. The grocery shops are closed for two days over the holiday and we panic buy enough food to keep us going for weeks in case we run out of something. I whisked up some eggs and mixed in some double cream, seasoning it. A knob of butter went into a saucepan and I then stirred the egg mix into the pan and made Kirsty my deluxe scrambled eggs. When the eggs were just right I spooned them onto a plate and added some strips of smoked salmon and some toast. I took the plate through to the sitting room and handed it to Kirsty with a fork. The way she attacked the food told me I had been right about her hunger and I couldn't help smile as she polished off the lot in no time at all. "What?" She asked when she saw me smiling. "Nothing, I was just smiling at your healthy appetite." "Oh. These eggs are really good, what have you put in them?" "Double cream. Thanks for the card by the way." I could see she had noticed where I had placed it. I decided we should play a board game, that was a non-controversial activity and would allow her to at least share some company for a few hours before returning home. I let her set up the monopoly as I brought her a soda and we started. I thought I was something of a shark at monopoly, but she wasn't half-bad herself and we made a competitive game of it. I enjoyed her company and it warmed my heart to see her enjoy herself - getting over-excited whenever I landed on any of her properties and relishing taking my cash from me. "Call yourself a business management expert!" She said as she finally wiped me out. "Oh no, I'm developing a capitalist monster." I laughed. "Another game?" She asked hopefully. "It's late, I need to get you home, but it's been fun. I'm glad you came over. Come on I'll drive you to your house." All the happiness drained out of her face in an instant and it nearly broke my heart to see it. She tried to cover her disappointment and put on her jacket without any argument. It had been a nice evening, without any of her usual sex games for which I was grateful, and I somehow felt guilty as I drove her back to the Bozo. When we arrived at her house she turned and gave a chaste little kiss on the cheek. "Thank you sir, that's been the best Christmas I've had in years. I really enjoyed myself, oh and sorry again for being such a misery." I watched her walk up the path and unlock the door. She turned to wave before closing the door behind her. I found I was crying. Her comment about playing a game of monopoly being her best Christmas in years just choked me up and I cried. It was five minutes later before I could safely see to drive home. I couldn't help think about her and how she was doing over the remaining days of the holiday, but when school returned she looked much the same as always and none the worse for having spent so much time on her own. In fact, if anything Kirsty was more focussed than ever with the next few months representing the run up to her O'level exams. There were no more little chats, no references to going out on dates, just focus, focus, focus. I worked with her to prepare a study plan for revision and tried to get across the kind of good study habits that would help her prepare herself as well as she could. I felt a little guilty when I emphasised the importance of a good nourishing diet to help sustain her as she studied, for a second forgetting her home circumstances. The last few months of the year passed in something of a blur as all the teaching staff did their best to prepare our little darlings for their ordeal. Kirsty kept her act together very well and I spoke to her after each of her exams through April and May. She was sure she had done reasonably well on all her papers - not over confident, just well prepared I hoped. On the last day before the summer break she came by my classroom to wish me well for the summer. "Are you going away this year sir?" She asked. "Not this year Kirsty, I'm trying to raise enough cash to buy a new car so every penny counts." "Well have a good break anyway. I'll miss you." She said. I don't know what came over me, I swear. I put my arms round her and gave her a big hug. There was nothing sexual in it, but it wasn't something a teacher should be doing. When I let her go I could see she was smiling widely but also had tears in he eyes. "Take care of yourself over the summer Kirsty and I hope your results reflect all the hard work and dedication you've put in." "I'm going to miss you too." I added to myself inside my head. ------- Chapter 6: Last year The first few weeks of the summer break found me just lazing around at home. I had bought a couple of new 'beat em up' Sega games and sat in front of my TV generally being a boy. It was great, but something was missing. Kirsty. I realised I was missing seeing her, hearing her, and it was becoming so that I couldn't get her out of my head. How had this happened? How had she got so under my skin? Kirsty was also featuring more frequently in my dreams, less disturbing dreams in one sense - she wasn't being raped! - but more so in another way - they were increasingly featuring Kirsty and I being intimate. It was not unusual for me to wake in the early hours of the morning, the last wisps of a dream lingering in my head and my cock stiff and painful. I refrained from masturbating and tried to get my act together, but it was no use, she was in my head constantly. As the summer wore on it simply became worse. I found myself thinking about her all the time, even on a couple of occasions contemplating driving past her house in the hope of catching a glimpse of her. I took a trip to the library each week on the off chance that she might be there studying, but I didn't see her. It was August, only a few weeks before school started back up, and I was doing some much needed work in the garden. I saw her while she was still several hundred yards away, her shape and the way she walked already so familiar to me that I could pick her out from that far away. She spotted me in the garden and I could see her begin to hurry towards me, almost running. As she came closer I could see that she was wearing her school skirt and blouse and I wondered if these were amongst the few clothes she owned. She had been working on her tan again and looked fantastic, her features lit up by her obvious excitement. "Sir, sir, I passed them all! I passed them all!" I prepared myself for what I knew was coming and sure enough she launched herself at me from a few feet away. Her excitement and joy were infectious and I grinned at her. "Four As and two Bs sir, isn't that amazing?" It really was amazing. To have come so far in two years was phenomenal and it was credit to the way she had applied herself. "Congratulations Kirsty, that's excellent, really good. I'm so proud of you for what you've achieved. I take it that you will now go on and sit your Highers?" I let her drop to the ground and we wandered indoors while she continued to babble her excitement at her results. I guessed that she had had no one else to share her joy with and that's why she was here. Whatever the reason, I was glad to see her after so long. Kirsty was re-rehearsing all of her papers, critiquing her answers and where she thought she had screwed up, but now realising she hadn't or she wouldn't have got the grades she had. I let her get it all out of her system, feeling happy just to have her there in my kitchen, close. She told me her father expected her to quit school and take a job full time, but she was trying to resist that as she wanted to go on to the next level - even University. I tried to re-inforce that, telling her that her hard work in the past two years would be all but wasted if she didn't now go on and build on her success so far. We spent a pleasant few hours sipping soda and going over her options for the future and she convinced herself that continuing on at school was the right decision. "Dad just thinks that now I've turned sixteen I should be earning a wage, helping to keep him in booze no doubt." "Ah, sweet sixteen," I said, "when did that happen?" "Today silly!" She smiled at me. "Oh, well Happy Birthday Kirsty." "Don't I get a birthday kiss sir?" She asked cheekily, from her look I could see that she was perhaps only half teasing. "You might be sixteen Kirsty, but you're still a student and I'm still a teacher." I laughed. We chatted a while longer until she announced it was time for her to get home. I walked her to the door and that's when it happened. She was in front of me and I reached over her shoulder to turn the lock on the door. She turned round so that she was pressed up against me and lifted her face, her lips pouting and slightly open. God help me, I just couldn't stop myself, I kissed her. It was no ordinary kiss either, it was soulful, passionate, toe-curling and it left us both breathless. "Kirsty, I'm really sorry. I don't know what came over me, what I was thinking..." She stopped me babbling in panic by pressing one of her fingers to my lips. "Shh, don't be sorry sir, I've been waiting a long time for that kiss - don't you dare spoil it by saying you didn't mean what I felt! Thanks for helping me have a great birthday." And then she spun and darted out of the door, leaving me dazed in the hallway. "Oh god," I thought, "what is happening to me?" I spent the last few weeks before school started reviewing my lesson materials and updating them as I always did. The only thing different this year was that I was constantly thinking about Kirsty now, and in particular thinking of 'the kiss'. I had started to think of it in those terms - 'the kiss'. I agonised over it, lurching from guilt at losing control to the thrill of what we had both shared in that one moment. And then school started back and I was up to my neck in teens of varying abilities as I tried to give everyone of them my best, give every single one of them the opportunity to stretch themselves, to be all they could be. I didn't have Kirsty in my class for her final year and that was a disappointment in one way but a relief in another, as I was still struggling to come to terms with 'the kiss' and what it might mean. The fact that she was at school at all was a victory of sorts, a victory over the Bozo who had tried to get her to take on some dead-end job just so he could use her wages to buy more booze. I kept tabs on her performance over the next few months and was pleased to find that she was doing as well as ever. I decided to revert to avoiding the Christmas dance that year after the mess I had made of the previous one. Kirsty turned up at my class the week before the dance with a Christmas card and a request for some advice. "Sir, do you think Derek's wearing my breasts out? They just don't seem to be getting any bigger and they need to 'cause they're too small." She thrust the aforementioned breasts out as if to make her point and I admitted to myself that I could see absolutely nothing wrong with them, they looked perfect to me. "Kirsty, let's not start that nonsense again. What is it that you wanted advice on?" "Well, this is a difficult one sir. Derek wants to 'do it' with me. I remember everything that you've told me in the past and I don't feel he's pressurising me into it. I think we're both ready to take that step now. What do you think?" I tried to fight down the sudden urge to be sick. My insides knotted up and a wave of nausea washed over me. I really needed to get to a bathroom, and quick. "Sorry Kirsty, excuse me..." I dashed from the room and barely made it into the toilets before throwing up what was left of my lunch. By the time I was finished and had cleaned myself up Kirsty was gone from the room and I was left with a dull ache in my head. I didn't have any further contact with Kirsty before the Christmas break and as she had given me a card before school ended, I wasn't expecting my hope that she would turn up at my house on Christmas day was likely to happen either. I went through the normal ritual with my parents, all the while thinking of Kirsty - sometimes with jealousy when I thought of her with Derek and what they might be doing. After eating and exchanging presents it was all I could do not to just rush off immediately. I forced myself to remain with my parents for a little while longer before jumping in the car and speeding all the way back home. If I was expecting her to be sitting on my doorstep again I was disappointed and when I opened the door in hope rather than expectation there was nothing lying on the mat. I closed the door behind me and forced myself to face up to the fact that she wasn't coming, it was all fanciful on my part. It was still relatively early and I put on the TV to watch the usual Christmas movies, a glass of wine in my hand. Of course I spilled the wine when I jumped at the sound of a knock at the door. Putting the glass down I walked to the door, trembling a little in anticipation. I opened the door and there she was, smiling at me, in her eyes that mixture of happiness and concern that I had seen before. "Merry Christmas sir, um, I was passing and wondered if you might want to lose at monopoly again?" Her voice also carried a little hint of concern, perhaps fear of rejection. "Well, we'll have to see about that Kirsty, I think a little revenge might be on the cards!" We played for a couple of hours and she did indeed fleece me once more, delighted at her success over the great business guru. I asked her to stay for dinner and she eagerly agreed, once more setting me to wonder just how well she ate at home as a matter of course. I'm quite a dab hand in the kitchen if I say so myself and I put together some chicken breasts in cream and white wine. I set the dining table, lit candles and opened another bottle of wine. I don't think I've ever enjoyed a meal so much in my life. We had fun - there's no other way to describe it. Her conversation was witty and intelligent and I discovered more about her interests, her aspirations for the future. Best of all, there was no mention of Derek. At last I knew it was time for her to go and I offered to run her home. As we walked to the door she stopped to allow me to turn the lock over her shoulder again. She didn't turn round this time but instead asked a question. "Have I behaved well enough to qualify for 'the kiss' again sir?" I was stunned. She seemed to think about 'the kiss' in the same way that I did. All reason went out the window and I took her by the shoulder, turning her so that she could once more raise her face towards mine and we could share 'the kiss'. It was everything I remembered and when we broke apart she dropped her head to my chest, snuggling against me. The drive to her house was made in silence, not an awkward silence, but rather a silence of two contented people, comfortable enough to allow the silence to settle over them. Again she gave me a little kiss on the cheek before thanking me for a great time and slipping out of the car. On the return to school Kirsty showed the same degree of focus as the previous year in preparing for her exams. She sought advice as to which Universities to apply to and we looked over a range of prospectuses. I was worried about how her Bozo father was going to react to her decision to go to higher education. He had been belligerent over Kirsty's decision to return to school for a further year rather than get a job and the idea that she might go to University for another three or four years would be bound to cause a problem. I was right about that, but fortunately things didn't come to a head until after Kirsty's exams. She came to see me after each exam and we reviewed the answers she had submitted. It looked to me like she had performed well and I had little doubt she would make the necessary grades for University entrance. It was just another night alone at home and I sitting with a glass of wine for company when I heard someone hammering at the door. When I opened it, Kirsty staggered in. She was in a state, one eye was already swelling and closing and there was a mixture of tears and snot on her face. Her shoulders were heaving with the effort of trying to breathe and cry at the same time, and when I pulled her to me to hug her she cried out in pain. I led her through to the sitting room and sat her down while I got a wet cloth and some towels. Once I had made sure there were no major injuries I slipped into the hall to call Brenda Fenshaw. There was an out of hours service on duty and I asked them to pass a message on to Fenshaw and then rejoined Kirsty. She had calmed down a little, but not much. "I'm sorry sir, I tried to do what you told me, I tried to run and get out of the house, but when he punched my face I fell and I couldn't think straight." "What has he done to you, oh my poor Kirsty." I put my arm round her and began rocking her against my chest. "He kept kicking me when I was on the floor, yelling at me that I was a lazy cow, that I was kidding myself on I was better than I was." We sat like that for perhaps an hour as she cried out her sorry tale of abuse. The physical beating was bad enough but it sounded as if the Bozo had been using it as punctuation for his rant at her attempts to better herself through her education, underlining each snide comment with a kick or a punch. A knock on my door heralded the arrival of Brenda Fenshaw and she took control of the situation, calling the police and an ambulance to take Kirsty for a check up. I felt a little stupid that I hadn't thought to call the ambulance but Kirsty had assured me she didn't think anything was broken. Once more I travelled with Kirsty in the back of the ambulance on the way to the hospital and hung around while she was examined. Brenda came to tell me that she had two suspected fractured ribs and the hospital had decided to keep her in overnight for observation. I realised that was why Kirsty had cried out when I had hugged her. Kirsty had at least confirmed to the police who were there that it had been her father who had attacked her and Fenshaw smiled as she told me that the police were already on there way to arrest Bozo. I was relieved about this as I was slowly building up a head of steam and was close to paying the bastard a visit to extract some retribution myself. At least if he was under arrest that temptation would be removed. When I took a taxi home and let myself into the house I discovered my hands were shaking. The emotional roller coaster the whole night had been had taken its toll on me and I collapsed exhausted into my bed. Bozo was arrested and charged with assault but lawyers soon had him released pending his trial. Social services had spoken to Kirsty about moving out, possibly into short term foster care or respite care. Kirsty had suggested she had been looking after herself for most of her life and she wasn't about to depend on someone else now. Legally she was old enough to do what she liked and that's what she told Fenshaw she was going to do. She cleaned all her stuff out of the house before Bozo returned and for the time being I had her set up in my spare room. I wasn't sure about this arrangement but Kirsty, smart girl that she is, pointed out that she was no longer a student at the school. I admitted to myself that I liked having her around. Kirsty's ribs had turned out to be badly bruised rather than fractured and within a few weeks she was almost back to her old self - indeed it was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders by getting out of her father's reach. We planned a celebration for her seventeenth birthday; I planned to cook something special for the occasion. I also took it upon myself to be sitting outside Kirsty's house that morning, intercepting the postman and getting the envelope with her exam results in it. I made her some scrambled egg and toast for breakfast and set the envelope down on the table next to her place. She came fresh from the shower, still wearing her school skirt and blouse. I realised I would have to help her sort out a wardrobe. As soon as she saw the envelope she got really nervous, but she opened it and I could see her eyes quickly scanning down the page. She looked up at me, eyes wide, a little in shock I think. "Straight As." She said quietly, almost in disbelief. "Yes!" I shouted in delight. After a few moments it seemed to sink in and she began dancing around the room, cheering loudly before leaping into my arms. She looked up at me as I held her by her butt cheeks and her face became serious as she whispered: "Thanks you so much for all your help and support Ken." I registered the use of my name and that it was somehow a significant moment just before she found my lips with hers and we shared 'the kiss' once again. Somewhere in my head a light went on and all the emotions I had been feeling for this girl coalesced and became clear, crystal clear. "Kirsty, I love you. I love your mind; I love who you are, your courage, your strength, your humour. I love you." I told her, gazing into her deep brown eyes. Her response surprised me no end. "I know that silly, I've known that for a long time. I just had to wait patiently until you did too." I kept my eyes on hers as we shared another softer, gentler kiss. Her mouth was all that I remembered it to be, soft, sensuous lips, yielding under mine. There was a gleam in her eyes, at once both loving and fiery with passion. I raised my eyebrows once and she knew what I was asking. She simply nodded and I carried her through to my bedroom. She was smiling but I could see some nervousness there too. I laid her gently on the bed and kneeled before her. "And now miss, where's that little treasure you've been teasing me with for the past couple of years?" I slid my hands along her thighs, pushing her skirt higher to reveal her pantie-covered mound. "But sir, aren't you going to stroke my breasts first?" She giggled as she said this, making it clear that even now she was being playful, teasing. Her giggling stopped when I began to kiss along the inside of one thigh, tickling the silky soft skin with my lips and tongue. Her legs spread for me and I continued slowly upwards, angling in towards the juncture of her thighs, the skin here if anything even smoother. I deliberately passed her crotch by and continued down the other thigh, smiling to myself at her groan of disappointment. At last I realised I was actually teasing myself as much as Kirsty and I slowly made my way back towards her sex. I let my nose run the length of the dimple her nether lips created, feeling the moisture already gathered by the material of her panties. I heard her groan above me and knew I was doing something right. I let my tongue come into play now and swiped it along the length of her slit, pressing my nose into her where I thought her clitoris would be. I must have hit my mark because she jerked violently, almost spastically. I thought that was enough for now, although the taste of her was so good I almost couldn't stop what I was doing. I slid onto the bed beside her. "Now missy, what was that about breasts?" I kissed all round her lips, mouth and neck as I unbuttoned her blouse to reveal her lace-trimmed bra, the same bra that had been inflaming me in class for the whole of last year. I slid my hand behind her back and managed to unclip the bra one handed and raised my head to watch her precious little mounds revealed to me for the first time. "How could you ever complain about these wonderful things?" I asked rhetorically. They were slightly upturned globe shapes, tipped with dark brown nipples, nipples that were already hard and thrusting upwards, crying out for attention. I groaned deep in my throat as I dropped my head to kiss my way to one of them and took it lovingly between my lips. I sucked gently and then more firmly as I felt and heard her respond, grazing the little nub with my teeth and thrilling as she gasped out her enjoyment. I spent fifteen agonising minutes worshipping her firm breasts, determined to make this good for her. I think I succeeded as her head was thrashing from side to side on the bed and she was vocally encouraging me to do more of what I was doing. Eventually the smell of her arousal and the recent memory of the taste of her drove me further south and her breath caught in her throat as she realised where I was going and what I intended to do. When I reached my hand down I found her panties were drenched, there was no other word that would do, drenched. The slick feel of the material hastened my descent as I hurried to suck her juices into my mouth. Kirsty's back arched as soon as my lips settled on her sex and I thought she might be having an orgasm. Her butt was momentarily off of the bed and I took the opportunity to ease her panties down her thighs and off, returning to now lick the length of her bare slit. Her juices were tangy and I lapped them up hungrily. Finding her little clit, I worshipped that too until I had built up her arousal once more. I felt her hands pushing my head away and groaned my disappointment. "Just hang on Buster," she said, "it's your turn now." She freed my rock hard cock from my pants and looked at it for a few moments. "Just above average? It looks huge, how am I going to get that up inside me?" She obviously wasn't looking for an answer and I was amazed as she dropped her head to take the head of my cock between her soft lips. Oh god I was in heaven! I assumed she had been getting plenty of experience with Derek because the next thing I knew I felt the head of my cock sliding down her throat, she was deep-throating me and it felt incredible. There was no way I could take much of that and before long I felt my balls pulling tight as I prepared to go over the top. I frantically warned her but she just backed off a little and began to swallow my offering as fast as she could. At last she kissed and licked my now soft shaft and climbed up beside me, lying with her head on my arm. "That was incredible, thank you." I told her. "You weren't so bad yourself for an old guy," she laughed at her own joke, "and anyway, I've had practice." She felt me tense up when she said this and looked at me in surprise. Realisation eventually dawned on her face and again I was surprised when she laughed, turning her head into my chest to dull the sound of it. When she stopped and looked up there was a gleam in her eyes. "I'm sorry, when I say I've been practising I mean I used up all my savings to buy a sex toy. The woman in the shop thought I was weird measuring them all until I found one the right size, I think it's a lot thinner than the real thing though. Some nights I lay in bed imagining it was really you I had in my mouth. It helped keep out the bad thoughts about dad." "Oh, when you said practising I thought you meant Derek." "Silly, there is no Derek, there never has been. I just needed something to keep you interested in me. I've loved you from that first day but I knew you thought it was just a silly crush. So I've been teasing you and biding my time until you came to accept the truth about us." All this time she had been gently stroking me and I found I was already hard again. She rolled over on top of me and placed the head of my cock against her entrance. She pressed down but her hymen made penetration difficult. "I know this is going to hurt but I'm determined that it will go in." She managed to get out through gritted teeth. Of course she had taken a lot of pain in her life and wasn't about to let this stop her from achieving her goal. I felt my cock pop through her opening as the hymen tore and she yelped, holding herself still for a moment. Then she raised herself fractionally before driving down again, forcing more of me into her. Another couple of thrusts and I was fully seated in her. She fell forward and kissed me before rolling us both over so I was on top. "I've done the hard bit now you do the rest Buster." She said. I was only too happy to oblige and I raised myself up on my arms so I could watch as I slid in and out of her in gentle strokes. When I looked down at her face she looked like the cat that got the cream and I took that as a sign any pain had passed. I began to speed up my strokes and tried to stimulate her clit as I pressed home each time. Her grunts and groans told me I was doing okay and then she became more vocal. "Uh, uh, that's it sir, deeper, deeper, oh it feels so good, I knew it would. Oh, it feels like it was made to fit inside me, uh, uh, yess." Her reversion to the use of 'sir' was quite a turn on and I tried to give her what she was asking for, increasing my speed once more and driving into her as deeply as I could. "Ahhh, yeessss, uh, yess sir, so good, so good." Despite the fact that she had taken the edge off for me by using her mouth, I felt close to coming again and I was desperately trying to hold off to make sure she came too. Seconds later she let me know it was time. "Now sir, please, uh, now, come in me sir, please, now, yeeesssssssssssss!" Her tight channel constricted round my cock and I felt myself shoot deeply inside her, holding myself tightly against her as I did so. At last we both lay side by side in the afterglow of our first time making love, her head cradled in my arm. "I knew it was going to be good she said, but I didn't expect that. It was beautiful, thank you Ken." I sat up abruptly. "God, Kirsty, I didn't use any protection!" "Oh I knew that. Don't worry, we are going to spend the rest of our lives together and I want a baby as soon as possible. I've decided I need a year out before going to University." I was stunned that she seemed to have it all thought out. We made love as often as we could over the next few weeks before I had to return to school and then we cut back a little. Kirsty was convinced she was already pregnant and I wasn't going to argue with her. We planned a very quiet civil wedding at the local registrar's office and she told me I had just made her first wish come true. Six weeks later she told me I had made her second wish come true as the doctor had confirmed she was pregnant. We continued making love as often as possible through her pregnancy but at last she had to call a halt, not with good grace however. For a first child, and given Kirsty's age, the birth was surprisingly straightforward. I was standing around looking goofy as all new fathers did I suppose when a nurse/midwife came out to tell me that I had a son. After a few hours I was allowed in to see Kirsty and the baby. She looked tired but beautiful and I thought the baby looked like a little old man, his skin wrinkled from being in the womb. "Have you thought of a name for the little chap?" I asked her, as she seemed to have things prepared ahead of time on everything else. "Of course," she said, "I want to call him Robbie." "Robbie. Robbie MacRae, I like it, it's got a ring to it. Welcome to Scotland Robbie MacRae, I hope you like it." I said as I took his little hand in mine. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2007-04-05 Last Modified: 2007-04-08 / 08:54:14 am ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------