The Girls of St Catherine's Bk. 03 Ch. 01

Highland Games (Part 1)

Wednesday, 15 July

The storm raged through the night, rattling the doors and tugging at the gutters of the old school as if the weather Gods were angry with the sins committed inside. Thunder boomed, rattling the old windows and hail rattled against the roof like handfuls of thrown marbles. The trees swayed wildly in the wind, their branches swinging to and fro as if they were conducting the maelstrom. The storm grew and grew, then at its climax a rapier of pure white lightning arced from the bruised sky and hit one of the ancient oak trees, cleaving a large branch from its trunk, the fierce winds tugging it free, sending it spinning into the darkness. Then as quickly as it had arrived, the gale moved on towards the coast, the weather Gods grumbling and arguing about whether the sacrifice of the old tree was enough to appease them.

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Saturday, 8 August

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David stared out of the window of the staff room as he stirred his coffee and thought about Anna Brittan, the art teacher. Of course, he'd heard on the grapevine that despite being found innocent by the tribunal she'd decided to change schools but it wasn't till he get back to his room that he found her note slipped under his door explaining it from her point of view. He was disappointed with her decision, but on the other hand, they'd always said to each other that it wasn't a serious, long-term relationship and somehow he was sure there paths would cross again.

After the freedom of his long summer holiday, it felt like he was already back to the daily grind of timetables, lesson plans and instant coffee. He'd returned to the school the day before so he could prepare for the new school year which started on Monday. Now he was taking a short but well-earned break from his preparation. Outside, it was a typical August day, warm and sunny but with a gusty southerly breeze causing miniature dust swirls as a long line of cars queued along the gravel drive.

He sipped his coffee and watched as fathers wrestled suitcases out of the back of large, expensive-looking cars, emotional mothers said tearful goodbyes, and slightly embarrassed-looking young women slung rucksacks over their shoulders and wheeled their cases inside.

Off to one side, a small group caught his eye. Two men and two women, who all looked to be in their mid-twenties, too old to be students, but too young to be parents. It looked like one of them, the slim young blonde with the sunny smile, was recounting some anecdote, her tanned arms gesticulating as she arrived at the punch-line. Opposite her, the slightly chubbier woman, placed her hand over her mouth as she laughed loudly. She was slightly shorter then her friend, with red hair that blazed like molten copper in the bright sunshine. She was holding hands with the man next to her, who David guessed must be her boyfriend. He was dark and plump, and he stood listening patiently with one hand clutching the straps of a large rucksack that leaned against his leg. Completing the group, was a tall, pale young man with a pronounced Adam's apple and thick black glasses who stood slightly stooped, as if he was embarrassed by his height. He stood quietly, listening to the others, occasionally pushing his spectacles up over his nose.

"They're our new teachers," said a voice behind him.

"Ah, headmaster, nice to see you again," David said, turning as the head joined him at the window.

"Enjoy your summer holiday?"

"Yes, spent some time with my parents, then did a bit of hiking in Austria with friends, all very enjoyable, thanks. How about you?"

"Yes, fine thanks, spent the summer trying to improve my golf handicap," the head replied. "The young lady with the red hair facing away from us is our new chemistry teacher, Florence Macgregor. You remember Dr Bryant retired at the end of last year?"

"Yes, of course."

"And the other woman is Jo Ledbury, she's going to be helping Miss Lambert out with physical education in general, but with the hockey team in particular."

David nodded.

"And the young man in the glasses is Edward James, he's going to replace Mr Stewart, who also retired."

"I see, so it's all change then."

The headmaster smiled thinly: "Well, sometimes change is good, David. Within reason, of course."

There was a pause whilst they both stared idly out of the window, David couldn't help comparing the two new female teachers. Jo looked chatty and full of self-confidence, and wore a short white tennis skirt and a cool, mint-green halter top that showed off her lean, athletic, lightly tanned body. Florence looked more quiet and introverted, pulling her pink cardigan around her and tucking her copper curls behind her ears as the breeze got a little stronger. He watched as Florence's boyfriend slid a hand down over her back, possessively squeezing her plump bottom through her jeans, before circling her waist and tugging her closer.

They moved differently too, David thought as he watched the little group slowly disperse; Jo moving off towards the car park with a lithe, easy grace with Edward struggling to keep up despite his long stride. Florence a little more hesitant, scurrying forward to open the main doors for her boyfriend, his feet sinking into the gravel under the weight of the huge rucksack, as they entered the building directly below him.

"Actually, it's quite lucky that glad I caught you here, I've been meaning to have a word."

David knew the headmaster well enough to know that luck wasn't involved. The head would have carefully planned to catch him here.

"Yes?"

"I don't know if you heard, but part of the roof was damaged in that freak summer storm a few weeks back."

"Yes, I'd heard something about a branch falling on the roof. Was it damaged?"

"Yes, a damn nuisance. It's not too bad but it has broken a lot of tiles. Anyway, we're having some roofers in to fix the damage, but it's an expense we really didn't budget for."

"So how can I help?"

"I was thinking, perhaps we could organise some kind of summer ball. You know, maybe set up a marquee on the lawn, get a band in, that sort of thing. If it's organised properly, any profit should help with the repair costs."

The head spotted the look of concern that crossed David's face.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll get my secretary to organise everything, but we do need some ideas for a theme."

"A theme?"

"Yes, you know, like an eighties party, or seventies disco, or classic Hollywood. Or pirates."

"Pirates?"

"Oh, I don't know, I'm a bit old for this sort of thing really. So I was hoping you and some of the new teachers might come up with some fresh ideas."

"Well, I'll certainly have a think about it, headmaster," David said.

"I'd appreciate that, David, thanks."

David smiled as he headed back towards his room. A summer ball, eh? Well, it would certainly give him an excuse to get to know Jo and Florence. And Edward too, of course. Perhaps he should invite them all to the pub next Friday.

---

"Thanks for this, I'm actually quite a keen rambler," Edward said eagerly as he followed Jo towards the car park.

"No problem, I picked up the trail maps at the tourist information place in the village centre. I can get some more the next time I'm there. There's loads of walks around here," she replied.

"Maybe we can do one together some time," he said hopefully.

She really was a terrific girl, very helpful. Attractive too, with a lean, athletic body topped with straw-blonde hair. He followed her towards her car, a beaten up old Golf, which had a small dent in the rear bumper. It was a two-door model, and he watched as she opened the passenger-side door and hunted through the glove box.

"Where are they? I thought I put them here," he heard her say.

It wasn't very gentlemanly, but he couldn't help noticing the way her summery white skirt clung tightly to her bottom, the thin material doing little to hide buttocks which looked as firm and toned like the rest of her and he had the sudden impulse to reach out and goose her. He clasped his hands together behind his back.

"Ah no, here they are, in the back seat," she said, taking a step back, and folding down the front seat.

Edward stood and watched as she stretched awkwardly, one foot planted on the car park's gravel, her other knee on the front seat, her legs parted a little. He felt his cock stir as the short skirt rode even further up over her long legs, revealing acres of smooth, tanned thigh. He couldn't see a panty-line through her skirt, perhaps she was wearing a thong. Or maybe nothing at all, he thought feeling himself become even harder. It would be easy to find out, he could just reach forward and slide the hem up over those toned thighs....

"Thanks again," he said, feeling his cheeks glow red, as she straightened and twisted to face him.

"Were you checking me out just then?" she said, her icy blue eyes narrowed, her expression stern as she handed over the leaflets.

"Checking you out? Um, no, " he said, realising he was sounding a little panicky. Oh gosh, she'd caught him, how embarrassing!

"You were, weren't you? I could tell, you were staring at my arse," she said, hands on hips now, her brow wrinkled as she frowned.

"Well, you know, maybe a little, I mean I could hardly..." he started, then stopped as a broad smile lit up her face and she started laughing.

"Got you!" she said.

"Um..." he said, not sure of what to say.

"Come on, I'm just having you on! I'm joking!" she said, punching him in the arm.

"Oh, right! Right, of course, good one," he said, rubbing his sore bicep. She packed quite a punch. He'd have to watch her.

---

Florence helped Derek lift the rucksack onto the bed, then walked over to the window. Outside, the female students were enjoying the sunshine, some lingering on the lawns, some strolling by the river, one or two playing tennis on the clay courts.

"Wow, it's so beautiful here," she said, as she felt Derek move behind her.

"That's not the only thing that's beautiful," he said, wrapping his pudgy arms around her waist and drawing her back against the firmness of his body.

"Och, you old smoothie," Florence said in her subtle Scottish accent, then sighed as she felt his lips brushing against the smooth, pale skin of her neck.

"God, you smell good," he said, his hot breath against her ear.

She sighed as she felt him tug at her cardigan, his warm lips kissing the exposed skin of her shoulder. She slid her hands behind her, along the back of his thighs, squeezing his firm buttocks through his jeans.

"Oh, Derek..." she whispered as she felt one hand slide up over her white t-shirt beneath her thin cardigan, cupping one of her well-rounded boobs whilst the other tugged at her leather belt.

"We can't. Not here, someone might see us," she said, trying to twist away.

"I can't help myself, Florence, you feel so good," he said, clutching her tightly so that even through her jeans she could feel his steely hardness pressing against her bottom.

"Derek, someone might see us," she repeated, feeling one of his strong hands sliding beneath her t-shirt and squeezing her breasts through the thin cotton of her bra.

"Come on, I think we should check out the bed, make sure it works okay," he said, giving a little victorious grunt as he felt her belt unfasten.

"Come on Derek, please!" she said, tugging at his hands, finally breaking free. "I haven't even got a key to lock the door yet, anyone could walk in!"

"Come on Florence, we're not going to see each other for weeks, I just thought, you know, you'd want to..." he said, reaching out and clutching her hand.

"I'm sorry I've got to unpack and I'm just not in the mood," she said, taking a step back.

"Come on, you can't leave me like this," he said, glancing downwards at his jeans.

Florence put her hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle as they both looked at the large and obvious bulge in his jeans.

"Come on, it's a long drive back to London, can't you help me out?" he whined.

"Well..." she said, suddenly feeling a little sorry for him. Was that her fault, in some way? Had she led him on?

"Please, just a little stroke."

"Och, okay, " she said, reluctantly. "Get your jeans off and sit on the bed."

Florence dragged one of the heavier cases over to the door to prevent someone from walking in on them then sat next to him on the bed, helping him ease his jeans to his knees. He lifted his hips as she eased the waistband of is black shorts over his hips, unable to suppress a little surprised gasp when his cock sprung free. He was very erect, his short but thick cock jutting out from a tangle of dark pubic hair. They kissed, his lips gently nibbling and sucking at hers as she wrapped her pale, slender fingers around the throbbing shaft and slowly slid her hand along the length of his hardness.

"God, Florence, that feels so good," he groaned.

"Is this what you were thinking about on that long journey down, you naughty boy?" she teased, as she began to stroke him up and down.

"Yes, yes," he moaned, his breath hot against her neck.

"You feel so lovely and hard," she purred, feeling the slow burn of arousal as she felt his cock throb and swell beneath her fingers. She eased his foreskin back, watching as it formed a tight collar under the swollen purple glans, his juices spilling from the little slit.

"I can't help it, you make me so hot," he gasped as she began to move a little faster, her silver charm bracelet jingling.

Florence watched him lean back on his elbows, closing his eyes as he savoured the delicious sensations. She slid a hand between her legs, stroking herself through the tight denim, feeling a nice, warm glow down there as she watched him. This ability to give him so much pleasure simply by sliding a hand up and down almost seemed magical, and she smiled as she felt his hips undulating, his breathing becoming hot and ragged.

"Oh God, don't stop, please don't stop," he was moaning now, as she started to jerk her hand a little faster now, sensing he was already getting close. Florence slid a hand into her jeans, gently massaging her mound, feeling her panties dampen as she shared some of his arousal. She was quite hot now, almost regretting her decision to shun sex. She was suddenly tempted to slide her jeans off and straddle him but his increasingly strained voice alerted her he was already nearly there.

"Please, please," he panted, his eyes squeezed shut as Florence stroked him harder. She watched his whole body tense as he teetered on the edge, his breathless moans increasing in pitch. Then he was cumming, his body jack-knifing, releasing his breath in a long, low growl of ecstasy as he came; thick, hot ropes of pearly white spunk erupted from his jerking cock, splashing over her hand and pooling on his stomach.

She continued to massage his softening cock for a few seconds, milking the last few drops of cum from him, before crawling onto the bed besides his spent body.

"Consider that a thank-you for the lift," she said, kissing him lightly on his dry, salty lips.

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Monday, 31 August

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"Girls, eyes front! Imogen, pay attention please!"

Florence stood, hands on hips, a stern expression on her face, her eyes flashing stormy grey as she waited for the girls at the back of the class to turn back towards her. They kept being distracted by the sight of young Michael, walking backwards and forwards outside the window, wheeling impressively big stacks of tiles. Even when she was facing the blackboard, she could tell when he passed by the increase in whispering and giggling at the back.

In truth, she had some sympathy with the girls. It was another hot, sunny afternoon and the sight of Michael stripped to the waist, his dusty jeans clinging tightly to his muscular thighs, his bronzed biceps bulging as he manfully wrestled with the heavy stacks was enough to distract any red-blooded female.

Still, she was new here and felt she needed to establish some discipline, so she was determined to get the girls' respect, and make sure they were paying attention.

"Thank you, girls," she said, a note of exasperation in her voice. "Now, let's talk about alkanes..."

---

Gary stripped off his polo shirt while he waited for Alan to remove the old tiles. He had a broad, tanned chest with a tattoo reading "Spurs forever" in fine, flowing script on his left forearm. He leant against the scaffolding, shading his eyes from the sun, enjoying the warm kiss of the sun on his bare skin. It was a lovely day, the air balmy and clear, maybe even a little too hot. A nice, pleasantly cool breeze up here at the top of the scaffolding though. When the weather was good, his roofing job seemed like the best in world, getting a bit of a suntan whilst listening to the birds singing in the treetops. Nice view too. From up here he could see the cows grazing in the pastures over the river, beyond the perfectly-trimmed, gently sloping lawns of the school grounds.

He also had a great view of the schoolgirls walking between classes. All those nineteen and twenty year old young women in their sexy school uniforms were very distracting, so progress on the roof had been a little slow so far.

Below him, he watched as Michael neatly placed another stack of tiles near the foot of the scaffolding. He wasn't one of their staff, he was a young lad that worked for the school. The crafty old headmaster had insisted they use him to keep the costs down, so he'd been assigned the job of ferrying the new tiles around from their van. Health and safety precautions prevented him from joining them on the scaffolding until he'd been properly trained.

"Blimey, look at state of this," his boss said, holding up another broken tile, "it's shocking up here. That bleedin' branch caused a lot of damage. More leaky than the Spurs defence."

He couldn't help laughing, even though he must have heard that joke a thousand times before. His brother-in-law and boss, Alan, was a big Arsenal fan, a season-ticket holder, but despite that character weakness, they got on quite well.

"How's the underlying structure looking? Are the batons okay?"

Al had spent the last hour carefully removing most of the damaged tiles, and now he checking the felt and wooden frame beneath for signs of further damage.

"It's mostly okay, but there's a bit of water damage. I think we're going to 'ave to patch about three or four before we can tile."

"All right, I'll go and get some lumber from the van."

He walked down the length of the scaffolding, his thick leather boots thudding on the wooden planks, then leaned over trying to locate the ladder. Just then, two of the female teachers appeared, walking down the path directly beneath him.

"Good morning ladies," he shouted, cheerfully.

He smiled as they briefly glanced in his direction, before hurrying on towards the classrooms.

"All right, ladies! Give us a smile! Come on, make our morning darlin'!" Alan shouted. He'd slid down the roof and was now standing next to Gary.

They laughed and waved as both the redhead and the blonde looked up and rewarded them with broad grins before disappearing around the corner.

---

"Disgusting," Jo muttered, as she heard the builders shouting at them from the scaffolding, although she couldn't suppress a toothy smile.

"Disgraceful and sexist," Florence agreed, as they walked a little faster.

They giggled and glanced over their shoulders at the two burly roofers shouting from the scaffolding.

---

They spent the rest of the day removing some of the damaged trusses and patching them with new lumber.

"Come on, can't we just get going? I want to be home in time for the football," Gary complained.

They were standing at the bottom of the scaffolding, tidying up before they left. Michael was helping them cover the piles of lumber and tiles with tarpaulins, weighing down the edges with bricks, and putting out brightly-coloured cones so that no-one stumbled over them when it got dark.