My hostess retreated to her bedroom. I tried not to think, as I had been for most of those seemingly interminable hours when I'd been waiting for them to come to, of what I could get away with. Spending this much time in close quarters with the two of them had only made me more keenly aware of what their respective work uniforms had allowed me not to ignore. Candace's athletic build might not command the same attention as classic bombshells like the Stern girls, but as I watched those spandex shorts glide down her hallway, it seemed unjust. There had been a good reason I'd been attracted to Candace back then. There was a brief pause, then I heard water turn on. The shower. I grit my teeth. Nudity. Prolonged nudity. Wetness. Soap. Hot warm water. Hot warm teacher. No. That was the slipperiest slope I'd ever stood on. One inch downward, and I'd be coasting until... oh god, yes, until... I sat up. There it was. Abbie. I needed to contact Abbie. What was I being blackmailed for, after

Last year, I agreed to help chaperone the class trip to Mexico that the Spanish department put together. My own Spanish was negligible but the kids helped get me through it. I dare say I even learned a bit from them, as well as some of the (very patient) locals I interacted with. The whole trip was incredible. Amazing food, fascinating cultural and historic sites, and lots of opportunity to roam and play. I got a first rate vacation and a first degree sunburn. (Yo soy muy blanca.) Back in the hotel, the kids all slept four to a room. After the first night or two, they even piped down with complaints about "sharing beds with other dudes," as the homophobic dude-bros put it. Some of the chaperones doubled up to save money, but as an introvert about to be thrust into non-stop company nearly every waking hour for over a week, I splurged and got my own room. It did me a lot of good to have somewhere to retreat to at the end of the day, and if I could still hear them down the halls and out

"Good afternoon, girls. I take it Mr. Canon has brought you up to speed on our arrangement?" "Yeah, he said he made you his bitch, pretty much." Abbie helped herself to a seat on the sofa. She didn't bother crossing her legs, not that it would have done anything to preserve her modesty. "So how's it feel?" The sight of a teacher mustering the resolve to show restraint despite a student trying their best to provoke a reaction engendered more empathy in me than all of her belly-aching and sass in the shower had. "Look. Abbie, Taylor, none of us are in a position we want to be in," their other teacher began. Abbie shrugged. "I dunno, I'm kind of OK with it." "OK, a situation none of us wanted to be in this time Thursday," continued Candy evenly. "Now it's going to make some things complicated, obviously. That said, I expect you two to remember that I am still your teacher, and presently, your hostess, and I expect you to act accordingly." Taylor took her own seat in the armchair I'd

"Whoa." I looked back to where Abbie was sitting. The girl looked pretty pleased with herself at the look on my face, and she had every right to be. I was finally getting a glimpse of what Taylor had on under those pink sweats. I'd wondered if it would be a classic teen slut uniform complete with the fluorescent thong, or perhaps nothing at all. All those times her panties or thong straps showed above her pants, the times she wore those white leggings and brightly color panties beneath, the skirts that found ways to divulge their secrets. I'd been beside myself with anticipation of which one my eyes would meet. Instead... Leather. It was leather. Once I'd gotten a glimpse, my incrementalism was forgotten. Those things went right down to her knees, showing me the painfully tight black leather boy cut shorts Taylor's sister had picked out for her. They were so tight they cut into her skin. The cleft between her labia was visible, even. Right there in front of me. There was no stopping

I pulled her hair back to reveal her ear, a pair of silver studs set in it. "Now, Taylor," I whispered, "you're going to watch these two women do... whatever they wind up doing. And we'll just see if all your haranguing is mere heterosexism, or if it's a beard for your own urges." "If you think this shit's gonna turn me on, you're fucking cray-cray, Mr. C." "We'll find out." As our attention returned to the lesson, Candy was laughing gently at something Abbie had said. "That's called the clitoris, sweetie. And yes, some men will have some idea of what to do with one. But I promise you, there are plenty out there who don't even realize you have one, much less endeavor to do anything with it." "Well maybe I don't care if they do. I mean, shit, sex still feels good, clit or no clit," said Abbie defensively. "Sure it does. Nobody's denying that. But remember, we're talking about skill here, and one of the major goals of sexual skill development is enhancing the pleasure of the experi