It was dark inside the bike shed as Neill closed the door behind them. Natalia in a fluster, turning to him with a frowning smile - not able to look him in the eye, not even able to think clearly - began edging restlessly toward the door as he stood blocking it.
‘I just want to get out of this fucking school!’ came out her low and cracking voice.
‘You don’t have to go anywhere.’
Her face distorted in a mix of shame and disbelief that he was here willing to stand with her in a sad shed, to watch her sadly shed, a flow of tears that now came unstoppably, and made her bolt now for the door. The no-budging turnstile of his arm re-emerged; this time curling fast around her frantic body, scooping her up and pulling her tight into his arms, encircling her entirely.
‘Hey, hey. What’s so wrong, hmm?’ came his voice to her ear as though in a dream. ‘What can be so bad as to make you run from me?’
Her head and hands buried into his chest, sobbing and crying right into him, for a good thirty seconds before she realised his hand was on the back of her head; stroking, stopping then stroking a little again, and as she tuned into these cautiously bestowed rubs of affection, her sobs began to punctuate them, finding a rhythm together like morse-code. Her face somewhere in the button valley of Neill shirt, festered on one chosen cotton patch she’d be happy to stay upon for a year, as though it would take her that time to muster the courage to look up into the face of this big, abstract thing comforting her, this rescue ship that rained a cologne-and-fag-scented spell of peace upon her like the sawdust of the musty shed they stood in.
Traipsing footsteps of people outside broke their sob-stroke tango, as he ushered, ‘back, back a bit,’ in a controversially-whispery Neill-voice, a new voice that affirmed the clandestine quality to this union as beautiful as it was, it must now take one melancholy dance step back away from the faint daylight like a dying spotlight from the one small window.
His head, craning for a second to check their concealment, brought its attention back to the top of her head, whispering into her hair follicles that stiffened to hear:
‘It’s ok. I’ve got you now.’
The words made something quiver inside her like an archery arrow, as sobs ebbed into sniffs and then into recuperative sighs and she quieted completely, signalling their bodies to part, not least from the inappropriateness of their closeness, the window of which was closing, formality restoring, but not before he cupped her chin with:
‘Look at me’ - as he reached a second time for her reluctant face, ‘I can’t bear to have you look away all the time, all the damn time…’
On those words she raised her inflamed eyes in surprise. Every second was bringing back sentience to Natalia and she swallowed hard to register now, that if there were sirens screaming all over her body like snakes on the head of Medusa for attention, Neill - her Neill - was wielding an axe to every one. Why oh why oh my god, I wasn’t imagining it all then, he cares for me. For me? Do not smile; she kept her hand shielding her face.
‘Natalia, I saw you between those girls in Assembly… their… asses, literally assembled next to yours - I know something’s going on. Have they done something to you?’
She bit her lip.
‘They have? What? Have they hurt you?’
His hand now came up to her cheek, and a creeping thumb stroked it.
‘Sweetheart, you know I’m going to help you, don’t you? When have I ever not helped you?’
She stared, nodding as though in a trance, with a surprising little burst of butterflies from him calling her sweetheart.
She looked down onto an old bike wheel.
‘They’ve been horrible to me for a while but it’s just… you know, got worse now. They said they’re gonna beat me up.’
She glanced up on the last words to see Neill’s face fall.
‘When did they say this?’
‘In Assembly. Said they’re going to do it tonight.’
He sharply exhaled. ‘Jesus—’
‘Well I dunno if they’re serious, but…’
He was scratching his face, gazing up at the wall. ‘Ok,’ he spoke sternly, ‘they’re both going to get dealt with.’
‘Wait, wait,’ she said looking pained, ‘I can’t have them knowing I’ve told you…’
‘That will swiftly become irrelevant. I just need a bit of time, just a bit of time, to figure something out…’ his voice trailed in thought as he frowned down at the floor biting his lip.
‘I swore at them just now,’ she blinked in earnest. ‘I can’t go back into school with them around, Neill, I, I just can’t...’
‘Oh?’ His eyebrow raised. ‘What did you say?’
‘Er… I told them, go fuck themselves, you awful twats, or something… I can’t remember what clumsy obscenities tumbled out of my mouth,’ she frowned, feeling her articulation return.
He chortled. ‘Story of my life. Anyway, that’s you on detention, young lady.’
‘Shut up,’ she said faintly with a smile.
‘Well, here’s the plan,’ as he glanced back out of the window and cleared his throat. ‘I’m going to fetch them right now— ’
‘No way!’
‘Hush. They’re already in the doghouse with me for breaking dress code. Missing Williams’ homework. And other things…’ his eyes narrowed in thought. ‘I’m keeping them both on detention at break and lunch today. So they’ll be well out of your w—’
‘Detention where?’
‘In my office.’
‘Pfft. Lucky them.’
‘Oh, they won’t be getting tea and salted caramel biscuits if that’s what you mean!’
‘You really want to spend your break and lunchtime with them?’ A girlish giddiness lingered upon Natalia from Neill’s touch like a priest’s blessing, and in trying to play down her happiness she leaked unintentional indignation as though her nervous system was a restless puppy’s tail knocking glasses off a table.
‘Rather that, than they make a meal out of breaking you,’ he pouted. ‘Are they in your lessons today?’
‘RSE right now, and RE next yes… Physics and Food Tech after lunch no.’
‘Well after I thrash them at break they won’t have the mental capacity to plague you in lessons, so…’
‘Thrash them?’ her eyes widened. ‘Like your printer?’
He squinted confused for a moment then laughed.
‘An apocalyptic thunderclap up Marcia’s backside wouldn’t get that wastrel working. Besides, corporal punishment was abolished in 1984, more’s the pity…’
‘Pity? Thought you were New Age Head!’
‘Lewd Rage. Misprint!’ - watching her laugh - ‘Anyway, stop interrupting, Miss Damsel, or it will be making a comeback on you. Right, next thing, is at hometime you have to get home alright. Can someone come and collect you?’
‘No, my mum can’t.’
‘A taxi then.’
‘Well I don’t really have the money.’
‘Oh I’ll sort it silly. And I’ll get it to come before the end so get excused from your last lesson ten minutes early.’
‘Oh! Thanks,’ she nodded gratefully.
He studied her for a moment. ‘So this was what was bothering you all along?’
‘Umm, well…’
‘You should have come to me about this before. You shouldn’t have to deal with things like this at school.’
‘Sticks and stones, all that. But I was half-tempted to skive again.’
‘You know I’d come find you. All I’d need is a Google map search for the local DIY shops.’
She laughed shyly.
‘Well it’s good to see you smile again,’ stroking a finger down her cheek once then dropping his hand, as she shuddered and cleared her throat.
‘Well, it’s not difficult, watching everything you get away with.’
‘Of course. Just like I’ll get away with what I’m going to do next.’
She bit her lip at these irresistible words.
‘Thanks a lot, sir. I mean, Neill.’
He nodded with his ear to the door, before opening it up cautiously.
‘They’re in RSE now?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You go first. Go hang out in the toilet for ten minutes or something whilst I summon them.’
She nodded, slipped away with the coast clear, followed by him a few moments later.
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In the lessons of that day, Natalia was in a state of blissful bewilderment. What had happened was leagues beyond the wrist-grab and the bottom jokes, the salted caramel and cold sores. It was cold hard - or rather, red hot - truth.
His body had been upon her and was still crawling throughout every cell of her. It was as though her very innards had been caressed with a promise of protection, one that she knew would be actioned ‘like that!’ - a snap of Neill’s fingers, her school daddy, her big brother, her lookout, that tracked her down, pinpointed the problem and took a laser beam right to it!
She saw Marcia and Stacey in RE, heads bent into their books whilst the class worked in silence on a Christianity module. And the word became flesh. Just like what I’m going to do next, her magician, her own Jesus promised; transforming wastrels into waste, the water of her tears into a tipsy grin, her cup always overflowing after a time spent with him. More than that today, for after his healing touch in her hour of hysteria, he was thoroughly through her, with her, in her.
Approaching 3pm, Natalia excused herself from Food Tech early and found the taxi as promised, waiting for her at the top of the school driveway. She opened the door with a glance of gladness back at the school and good old Neill. She reminded the driver of her address, and as they began driving, he cleared his throat, rummaging in his pocket.
‘Oh, the fellow who organised your lift,’ he began, ‘your teacher, asked you to text him you got home ok.’ He produced a slip of paper with a mobile number on it.
Natalia took it with surprise, looking down at the digits with silent excitement and spending the rest of the ride planning what to write. The taxi had barely pulled away, before she pulled out her phone, standing on the pavement to type:
'Got the lift - home now - thanks very much. Natalia.'
By the time she had got up to her room, her phone beeped in response:
'You’re welcome:)'
She smiled and stared at it for a while, then another message flashed in:
'Just thought - will you be ok on Monday morning journey?'
She pondered for a moment then began typing:
'Yes... I don’t see them in the morning.'
Then she paused and continued the message with:
'But may need another taxi end of Monday? ...sorry to ask ;)'
Three minutes later a reply came.
'They’ll be sorted by then! ...but if not then yes!'
Wow, Neill. She wrote back:
'Thanks :)'
The reply:
'Have a good weekend.'
She stared for a while at that last message, the most banal words she could receive from anyone else, but was like an anointing from the gods to see on her own phone screen from Neill, her finger caressing the crack in the screen that his words shone through like sun through a parting of grey clouds… and she threw herself back on her bed with a huge smile of relief.
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That night in bed Natalia tossed and turned, still reeling from the earlier encounter, new night thoughts creeping in, examining this new, outrageous milestone: Neill’s touch had been all over her, tender and caring, but completely taboo. He had revealed himself to have a rapport with her, that she was indeed special! - and yet - could it be possible that he might be doing the same with other pupils? Could he show that level of paternal concern as a ruse to multiple schoolgirls, playing them like a musical orchestra - grooming them, a voice in her head said - for his roaming hands of commanding restraint, the compelling warmth that shocked their victims into warm melting acquiescence… was it all a power trip?
It seemed improbable by logistics alone that he could manage to do this to multiple girls, maybe she was his one and only victim, but a victim nonetheless. Was she naïve? Being taken advantage of? Should she put him in his place, and tell him his touch is inappropriate? But then, his caring? His improvements on the school? His inviting of her opinion, his augmentation of her voice, fixing of her self esteem? Making her life happier? How could that be wrong?
As she lay with eyes closed, she scanned her body to viscerally remember each and every detail of Neill’s touch: he had pulled her into him, gripping her jumper here, squeezing her hip there, then he’d tracked her down and grabbed her neck here, and surreptitiously shoved her into the bike shed and squeezed her tight there, and brushed against her head on that spot, and stroked her face on that spot… each body part lit up, tingled, as she mentally called them out.
She drew her arm across herself to emulate that unshifting turnstile Neill had pulled taut and protectively over her stomach. She was his ‘sweetheart’ he’d saved her from getting beaten up, rescued her better than anyone would have dared.
The top half of her body had been literally loved by him, and oh that sweet voice of his, low and manly and paternal… had vibrated through her skull and dripped down like marrow through her bones and she drew her hand down at the hatch to catch and feel that drip from where that throb, that needle in her urethra had been prickling for weeks.
Turns out it wasn’t her urethra, or rather, her urethra was twinging from the sprung leak of its downstairs neighbour. She took her paintbrush now, to the mixing tray that presided up over them, to circulate the moist mound that was her familiar friend she’d known and explored so avidly since she was nine, but which was now throbbing with a controversial new delight to stir and blend colours of a new inspiration.
It was ok to wank over a teacher surely. She’d even once wanked thinking about Mr Harrison. Not because she fancied him, but because she found him so repulsive. The repulsion turned her on. One bored night fingering she’d once imagined his big clumsy body rutting against her and his grey mouth falling open as he came.
Something that would be abhorrent in reality, that was pure fantasy fodder, a dirty little bloke-style jack off. Burping out sexual frustration, like cracking your knuckles; a clitoral Heimlich manoeuvre to get it out the fastest… slap my back with a big wet fish for all I care. Harden, stiffen, shoot.
This? This was her body like a marshmallow in the campfire. Smooth, soft, sweet. Falling off the stick, as the fire burns right through the sticky soft stuff, like creative fuel pulsating through her.
Fuel, fuel, she’d even called him that to his face, oh he was fuel now, alright! To stir and make more, more strokes till a painted butterfly came to life, roused itself, was breaking through bit by bit, and oh! …broke through so quickly, her body distorting as it ripped out from shimmering thighs, leaving her behind as a shuddering chrysalis, that gasps watching it fly away. Release another? And another? Become a shuddering shell over and over again, before she rolled onto one side to fall asleep in smiling remembrance of how her entertainer, her hero, her verbal jouster - had today become her protector, and now he was lover - just in abstract thought, just for this moment - under her sheets, undetected by the world, so silent her mum passing the creaking floorboard to the bathroom wouldn’t even hear her.
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Natalia has a huge surprise in the next chapter, State of Suspension!
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