Evelyn Sinclair
Friends of the teacher
Chapter 1
'Dear, dearest Bill,' the letter began.
'I've arrived safe and sound. See? Your future wife can take care of herself. I'm excited and tired and dirty and excited (I wrote that, didn't I?) and I miss you. Above all, I miss you. To keep away the loneliness, I'm working very hard. It is an amazing thing to see. Everyone is so happy I'm here and going out of their way to make me comfortable and content. The children are adorable and so eager to learn. I feel very useful. And I miss you. Please understand my enthusiasm. I'm using it as a shield against my need and love and desire to be with you.'
She signed her name, Beth, with love and kisses, folded the letter neatly, put it in an envelope, sealed it, wrote out Bill's address back east – New York City, to be exact – licked a stamp, thumped it with her fist and sat back in her chair with a yawn so deep it curled her toes and stretched her arms. She looked at the clock and yawned again. It was only eight thirty but she felt like it was 2AM.
She had been driving all day over the flat tabletop land of Arizona, determined to get to her destination before dark. Everything in Arizona seemed much closer than it really was. Or maybe it seemed further away. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. She was so tired, she couldn't think straight.
She got up and moved around her little camper in a loose sleepy way, straightening up, smoothing out the bed then checking the curtains on the windows before undressing. Beth, just turned twenty-one, on her own for the first time in her life, had a voluptuous young body. She kicked off her cowgirl boots, wiggled her tight tantalizing hips out of her jeans arm took off her checkered blouse, throwing all of her clothes in a hamper and stood in her bare feet, clad only in a bra and thin white little panties.
Her body was Beth's biggest problem and a source of concern to her fiancee, Bill Travers, far away in New York. It was simply too good. It had been a source of concern and near-raging frustration when they were together in New York. Beth couldn't help it. Physically, she was at the zenith of her life. Later, if she wasn't careful, she would have a weight problem. Now, she was just right, filled out to the utmost in all the right places. Her breasts were large and heavy yet firm and pointed in a way that could only bring attention to them. They were fine protruding melons, smooth and perfectly round.
Her stomach was slightly rounded and soft as a baby's breath, yet firm. Her buttocks were like sponge rubber and constantly undulated in a provocatively teasing way whenever she walked or even moved. Had she been short, her figure might have been too heavy, but she wasn't short. Beth's legs were long and equally well-formed. When she wore her jeans, her thighs seemed to protrude enticingly and her whole lower torso directed attention to her pubic mound which seemed to snuggle in her warm soft flesh like a prize to be sought.
It was her face that took people back. With such a figure one would expect a girl with a showgirl face. Yet, Beth Carruthers came from a very old and good New England family. Her profile was elegant, almost regal and aloof. In fact, when she had pulled into migrant workers' camp earlier that day, when she stepped out of the bus and was greeted by the workers and their families, the men present had taken their hats off. This was a lady. She was also a schoolteacher and Beth went about her business with an efficient enthusiasm. Before she was through, she had already formed classes, distributed books and assigned students times and tasks.
And she had loved the people. Always, she had felt she wanted to help what she called 'the common people, the people who are the backbone of this nation.' Now her chance had come and she was elated, floating on air. For one year she would travel through the southwest, teaching young, under-privileged people who had never had a chance to set foot in a school. Sponsored by a private foundation that her uncle was head of, she had browbeat him, her family, and Bill into letting her have a chance at doing something worthwhile. She was persistent and eloquent in her campaign and finally won reluctant approval. Bill had been the hardest to convince. No matter how they had discussed the project, he simply couldn't see her going off by herself with 'a lot of goons,' and not seeing him (except or vacation visits) for one whole year. Beth tolerated his remarks up to a point, then she accused him of being a bigot.
BiIl, his handsome face serious and dark, had nodded with a growing anger. 'Oh, so that's it now, huh? I don't understand the working man and I have no compassion for my fellow man. I have no humanity, huh? Let me tell you, I was in the army and I saw those guys in action. I'm not being a bigot, I'm being realistic. Beth, for God's sake, there's a difference between being real and being poor. We both know some well-to-do people who are pretty real, too. Just because a person is poor doesn't always mean they're nice.'
Standing in her camper, Beth unclasped her bra and her breasts seemed to leap with elation, glad they were free. They stood out, causing a deep and sensual cleavage as they shook slightly as she walked. She shook her head sadly. Her parting with Bill had not been good. Hooking her thumbs into her panties, she wiggled out of them, peeling them off as if they were a second skin, her buttocks quivering and shifting. She stood erect, naked, her lovely long body soft and sensual in the dim light of the camper. Her hands softly ran down over her nakedness, feeling the firm curve of her hips, the slimness of her waist and the full voluptuous richness of her breasts, her nipples hardening slightly as she rubbed her fingers over them.
She closed her eyes and thought of her last evening with Bill. He had taken her out to dinner that night, a night of farewell for almost a year. He had drunk too much during dinner and had insisted on going to a favorite bar of his on Third Avenue where all his advertising friends hung out.
He had drunk too much, finally getting surly with her. Reluctantly, Beth asked to be taken home. Having worked in the mail room of Bill's advertising agency, she had her own little apartment. Outside her door, although still drunk, Bill became contrite and apologized, asking if he could come up to say good-bye. Beth was relieved and let him come up and placed him on a couch while she made strong black coffee in her kitchenette.
Bill had been good for awhile, drinking the coffee and asking for a refill. Beth understood; after all, she was leaving the man she was going to marry. It was a big moment in her life and she wanted it to be right. She rationalized that Bill drank so much because he was so upset.
Then he began to get amorous. And that too, was all right. She loved Bill, wanted to marry him and be his wife and the mother of his children. Always, she wanted to give herself to him, for she felt passion sweep through her body like a brush-fire as he grew bolder and more forceful. Her long black hair fell loose under his fumbling and he had her bent back on her couch, her breasts jutting upward under her dress in a brazen invitation. She had struggled, trying to push him away with a warning, 'Bill!'
Usually one admonition from her was enough. But not that night. Her struggles only seemed to excite him all the more as he looked down and saw her syrupy young body writhing sensuously under her dress. Then his hands were on her thighs, stroking them, exploring boldly and roughly. 'Bill! St-' was all she could get out before he kissed her hard on the mouth. Beth made the mistake of relaxing for a minute. It felt so good with his arms crushing her and his mouth on hers. It was all the encouragement he needed. He was like an animal, grunting and breathing through his nose. His hot tongue shot into her mouth and she stiffened against her own desire to do the same.
It seemed like he had fourteen pawing hands and they were everywhere, all over her body, as he pushed her down on the couch and was half on top of her. 'Bill!' she exclaimed, pulling her mouth free for a moment, 'For God's sake, stop this!'
'Why?' he snarled and Beth looked at his face, her eyes wide. He was drunk, unreasonably drunk, and didn't know what he was saying or doing. When he had been quiet and polite before, he had simply been numb. Now the alcohol had triggered a deep desire in him and his eyes were glazed and unseeing, his face was twisted in a way she had never seen before and his breath reeked of Scotch. 'Why?' he asked again, taunting. 'Give ya a li'l goin' way present,' he said thickly. 'Gonna do it for those workers anyway.' He looked boastful. 'You're gonna do it for your fee-ance-say.' He laughed hard and low and started pawing her body again, pulling her dress up with a sneer on his face.
'Bill, this is me, Beth,' she said in a frightened voice, trying to penetrate his alcoholic fog. 'Bill, don't ruin it all.
