There were a lot of things I would have liked to have been doing at that moment, but sitting in a teacher's meeting listening to the Principal running off at the mouth about our latest Stands Of Learning scores wasn't really one of them. The information we were getting was important enough, but the Gray Ghost, that's what everybody secretly called Principal Roberts, because of his long gray hair and the way he had of sneaking around the large school without being seen, had the most deadpan monotone voice humanly possible.
He was a good Principal and a very intelligent man, but he could drone on for what seemed endless hours about what amounted to nearly nothing to most of us. Hell, I'd been teaching the third grade for six years; I'd heard all this guff so many times before. Normally, it was all I could do to keep my eyes open when he was giving one of his rousing pep talks about how wonderfully we were doing on the state level.
Today was different; my eyes were having another type of problem. You know that eerie feeling you sometimes get when it feels like someone is staring at you? That feeling kept coming over me throughout the first half of the meeting. I had looked around the long string of cafeteria tables on several occasions attempting to figure out where the odd feeling had been coming from, but had been unsuccessful in discovering its cause.
I shifted around in my seat; having decided it was just my overly-numbed brain attempting to keep me awake, and went back to the exquisite rendition of "The Last Supper" I had been doodling on the legal pad, I was supposed to be taking notes on. Well, I guess that's how I felt at the moment. I was about to starve to death and the only food I could see in the room was the cold cup of coffee in front of me and one, now-stale, half-eaten donut laying on a napkin at the other end of the table. But the Gray Ghost kept right on feeding us his long rambling lines of pointless facts.
I quickly looked up from my doodling when that eerie feeling floated over me again. My searching eyes zeroed in and locked onto the most beautiful pair of eyes I had even seen. They were huge, deep blue, sparkling pools of promised excitement. Long, dark lashes, a hint of blue shadow, and light-blue liner on both upper and lower lids made them just that much bigger and brighter. Betty Davis' claim to fame had a serious challenger and she was sitting across the table from me.
Denise was a new teacher at our school; brought in late in the school year when the fourth-grade teacher, Michele Richards' tummy had finally grown too large with child, more accurately, children, she was carrying twins; to continue teaching.
I had seen Denise several times in the month or so she had been at the school, but only in fleeting glimpses as we passed in the halls. I had never noticed her big gorgeous eyes before. Maybe it was because they were staring at me at that moment, but they had the power to make a man's penis dance the Macarina if she wanted it to. The big problem was I didn't have a penis and I've definitely never had another woman create the feelings that were coursing through my body at that moment.
A shy grin slipped across her pretty, round face. A chill ran up and down my spine. Not knowing just how to deal with her mesmerizing gaze, I quickly returned to my artwork, to discover I had unknowingly drilled a hole through it with my pencil.
I spent the next several minutes trying to act as if I was really interested in what the Gray Ghost had to say. I even turned to a new page on my legal pad and started another masterpiece. But I could still feel the pressure of those gorgeous eyes on me. Try as I may, I could not resist the urge to look up. Sure enough, they were still boring a hole right through to my heart. Her shy grin still flashed two rows of beautiful gleaming teeth at me.
I couldn't help but to briefly smile back. I immediately resumed working on my latest work of art, a sexy version of the "Mona Lisa." But I discovered I had lost interest in that particular piece and started something else on a clean page.
Something gently brushed against my calf. At first I thought it was one of my cats, then I remembered I was in the school cafeteria and of course, there were no cats in there. Realizing we were seated at a row of tables designed and built for elementary-school children, I figured somebody's legs had just gotten a bit stiff and they had tried to stretch them out and had accidentally brushed against my leg. It was probably Pete Janson, our big-footed Phys-Ed coach, who just happened to be sitting next to the beautiful Denise.
I wondered how he had managed to get the seat next to her, and so damn close too. It wasn't any of my business; no sweat off my balls, if I had balls that is. But I really hate seeing a young pretty lady like Denise having to put up with the crap a guy like Pete always seemed to try to lay on every new female teacher. They always seem to make it seem like some kind of a damn contest or a frigin' conquest, a right of manhood, or something equally as ridicules.
The Gray Ghost turned on a large-screen TV on a roller-cart at the head of the row of tables. Someone switched most of the lights off, so there wouldn't be any glare on the TV screen. That was just what I wanted to spend the afternoon doing, watching a thirty-minute video entitled, "Reaching That Troubled Child." Now some shrink was going to tell us how to do our jobs. Yeah, right! But I guess that was one of the reasons our school was always in the upper percentile in the Standards of Learning scores for the state, the Gray Ghost was always bringing us the latest information on the newest techniques in teaching. He could turn anybody into a good teacher in spite of themselves. He held one of his little informative meetings every Wednesday afternoon at precisely 3:00 o'clock.
I really hadn't seen any of the video, I had been too busy trying to watch Denise out of the corner of my eye to see if she was still looking at me. She was.
The video had been running only a few minutes when I felt something brush up against my leg again. But this time, it slipped up and down my calf several times before it fell away. I also realized at that point that it wasn't the big-footed coach. This brush had been far to gentle and the foot had been much too delicate to be Pete's. The foot had also been way too small for him. It had also been bare, except for the nylon stocking covering it.
I immediately looked straight at Denise. Her long eyelashes fluttered at me a few times and her cute little grin turned into the sexiest smile that had ever been flashed in my direction. My breath hung up in my throat as I watched the pink tip of her tongue slowly glide over her dark-maroon upper lip. My face blushed so deeply I was certain it was casting a red glow throughout the darkened room. I had no choice but to smile back at her. I couldn't help it; I couldn't stop myself.
Apparently she had taken my smile as an okay because her sexy little foot was rubbing against my leg again, but this time, it was sliding up and down between my calves. It slowly worked its way up to my knees and edged its way between them. I tried to resist, but it felt so sensual, I couldn't. I allowed my knees to part slightly making room for that precious little foot to ease between them. Each tiny movement of her foot and hot little toes against my inner thigh sent morsels of warm desire oscillating through my body.
Her loving foot had reached the limits of its attached leg, but I wanted more, I needed more. I changed position in my seat slightly, sliding lower in my chair and farther under the table. My thighs also parted more. Denise wasted no time placing that delicious foot where I needed it most, right up against my begging womanhood.
I slipped my left hand under the table and under my skirt to finally touch my new lover; Denise's nimble little foot. It felt far too tiny to have such power over me. I gently massaged her delicate ankle and the tapering length of my nylon-covered lover and slowly pulled it tighter against my now-wet womanhood.
Instantly, it caused the pulsation of a light orgasm to reverberate throughout my body. Suddenly my panties were soaked and so was Denise's loving foot. I shuddered a little; praying no one else would noticed the event transpiring right before their very eyes. Denise's toes seemed to dance with delight as my juices spread over and between them.
Denise's smile only grew sexier as my desire grew stronger. I fought hard to keep from moaning out loud. I almost failed, but managed to cover it up with a quick, fake cough. I thought Denise was going to give us away when she giggled at my predicament. Everyone else in the room busted into laughter. In near panic, I sat straight up. But, for once in my life, I had gotten lucky, they weren't laughing at me, something on the video had been funny just at the right moment. The actual reason for Denise's cute, but revealing little giggle had been masked to my great relief.
For the next several minutes I remained seated straight in my chair. It only took Denise about thirty seconds to resume tracing that torturous foot over my leg. But I resisted the temptation to slide back down in the chair. I was being strong; that was until I looked into those gorgeous, begging, big blue eyes of hers. I could have sworn I heard a pleading "please" voiced by those eyes. I could still feel my wetness covering that loving little appendage attached to her short, slender leg as it roamed up and down between my calves.
Those penetrating, pleading eyes were more than I could resist. They could have melted the Polar ice caps, so what chance did my meager resistance and my already-pounding heart stand against them. I slowly slid back down in my chair, separated my knees slightly, and anxiously, breathlessly awaited the tantalizing manipulations of her dancing toes.
I swear that delicate little foot and five scrumptious digits had more energy than a truckload of Energizer Bunnies. How she had managed to work them inside of my panties I will never figure out. Hell, she had to get through my pantyhose first, but she had somehow managed to tear a hole in them.
My eyes closed as one of her marvelous toes gently stroked my swollen, now very sensitive clitoris. I was nearing what I knew was going to be a gut-wrenching orgasm. I could feel my body beginning to tremble. The room full of people faded from my mind. I bit down on my lips, preparing to restrain the sounds I was sure were going scream from my throat. My breath seized in my lungs.
Suddenly, the lights blazed on filling the room and my mind with eye-blistering brightness. Everyone except Denise and me stood to leave. The meeting was over and I hadn't even heard the Gray Ghost adjourn it.
Oh God, not now! I didn't finish, screamed through my mind. It took every ounce of will power I possessed to refrain from screaming it out loud. I literally had to bite my tongue.
The meeting was over, Denise's wonderful foot and magic toes were gone, and I was strung out on the drug of heated desire so bad I was afraid I was going to actually experience Spontaneous Human Ignition at any moment. Sweat beaded on my upper lip. I had one hell of a time holding back the fountain of tears trying to float my eyeballs.
Denise stood, took my legal pad, scribbled something on one of the middle pages, handed the closed pad back to me, and walked out the door without a word.
I couldn't take my eyes off of her as she strolled out, looking like the rest of the prim and proper teachers she was walking among. She didn't even glance back over her shoulder at me. She acted as if nothing had happened during the meeting and she might have been thinking about what she was going to cook for dinner that evening.
After everyone had left the cafeteria, I frantically searched through my legal pad for what she had written. It took quite a while to locate it, her handwriting was as delicate and tiny as her.
The script was simple and to the point. It stated, "Tiptoeing through the tulips, what a delightful way to spend an afternoon. Dinner at 7:00." And her phone number.