Shapes

This is an experiment at a longer, multi-post story arc.

Alana was all shapes. The globes of her breasts almost spilling out of her cleavage. Her heart-shaped face. The arc of her full, always smiling lips. The hourglass of her waist and hips. Shapes everywhere. For a temp substitute teacher who was here to cover for a staff math teacher out for a few weeks recovering from an accident, she stuck out. She was also in a great physical shape, riding her bicycle uphill for at least five miles and not even looking winded five minutes later when she started the class, with her trademark radiant smile and a voice that commanded attention.

When asked how she ended up as a temp, she explained that she was missing a few work experience credits necessary for graduation. Whatever the reason, every class she had was mesmerizing. She certainly knew her subject. And she didn’t hesitate to use her own body as a prop when explaining something. Angles: acute, right and obtuse, as she moved from one yoga-like pose into another. Rigid translations, as she moved gliding from one corner of the room into another. Rotations, as she span around with the grace of a ballet dancer. Reflections, as she pointed toward a full-length mirror she rolled in for the lesson, showing her mirror image, just as perfect in every single shape.

The students would fall silent the moment she walked in, even the usually noisy back of the room captivated by her looks, her voice and her presence. She didn’t give any homework, which earned her instant cheers from her students, raised a few eyebrows among other teachers, and evoked a mixed reaction among the parents. Most thought that as a substitute teacher, she didn’t care enough to assign any, and while some were relieved, others were alarmed. But the grades on the test on the material she had covered were as good or better for each student in her classes, and so the doubts and discontent were suspended, at least until the next test. She didn’t send anyone in detention, because she didn’t need to. An occasional misbehaving student was quickly shushed by the rest of the class, everyone captivated by her teaching style. An assistant principal assigned to check up on her during her first week ended up sitting in her class, entranced, till the bell rang, then shook herself off, surprised and a bit confused by the newfound understanding of long division.

All that simply wouldn’t do. That bitch stole my spotlight. She needed to be exposed for what she was, a fraud using her body to get her way. She is nothing but a pretty shape. This school is mine. Alana will be knocked down a peg.

I knocked on the bitch’s door and smiled, trying my best not to make it look like a scowl.

“Alana? It’s Jennifer, might I trouble you for a few minutes?”

Comments

    1. Post
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      Master's Musings

      Thank you! Of course she has a plan! But, to quote a rather successful Prussian field marshal, no battle plan ever survives contact with the enemy.

    1. Post
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