Jackson Robard: Present for teacher

"God, you're beautiful, Miriam," Roger Trenton said in hushed awe as he stood near the lovely blonde woman. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

"Nonsense," Miriam Dodge softly giggled. "I'm a thirty-four year old English teacher past her prime. Flattery will get you nowhere, Roger."

"You know you're every bit as youthful looking as when you were twenty. Why, if I didn't know better, I'd say you could be my son Mark's older sister."

The handsome, dark-haired man spoke with genuine admiration in his voice as he rapturously studied her magnificently-proportioned body. She was sitting in a relaxed position on a striped blanket, their picnic lunch spread around her like an offering, and her hand was slightly stroking the heavily furred neck of Roger's German Shepherd dog, Buck. Golden sunlight of the abnormally hot Indian summer filtered through surrounding pines and gilded her already tanned form like an admiring spotlight from the Gods. From where Roger stood at the other side of the mossy clearing, the pretty school teacher was the ultimate he had ever desired in a woman, and his leanly muscular thighs throbbed to possess all of her ripely curvaceous flesh.

Miriam Dodge was wearing far less than she really thought to be proper, considering she had hardly known Roger Trenton for more than a month. He was the biology instructor and assistant coach at Logansville High School, and she had met him when she'd joined the faculty in late August, preparatory to the coming school year. Now, in the third Saturday of September, he had convinced her to share a picnic with him in the wooded foothills west of the small Northern California community. She had eagerly agreed, having had enjoyable evening dates with him almost constantly since they'd met. Unfortunately, she had discovered this morning that her only clothes casual enough for mountainous trails were terribly revealing. The thinly sheer blouse barely hid her high-set, widely-spaced breasts whose rose-tipped nipples were clearly etched in the flimsy fabric of her thin brassiere. The taut material tapered down over a thin, girlish waist and flat, smooth stomach to where her hugging pink shorts clung lovingly to her smoothly sloping hips, pulling against the gracefully jutting curves of her thighs. Below the cuff of the faded hot-pants, her legs were long columns of breathtakingly curved flesh which tapered gracefully into thin, well-formed ankles. And as she'd shed her pair of brown leather flats, her slim bare feet with their small toes peeked from where she had curled her ripely tanned legs beneath firmly rounded buttocks.

Miriam's long, satiny blonde hair framed a heart-shaped face that would cause any male to turn his head when she passed. Her azure blue eyes were set slightly apart and her dainty, pert nose was dotted with freckles across its bridge. Her full ripe mouth had the lower lips protruding slightly in an almost perpetual little-girl pout, which added a sensual look to her round dimpled chin and softly tanned satiny complexion. She was a mature blonde Venus that would attract admiring attention from the most discriminating men – and envy from women.

She blushed under the frankly brazen gaze with which the older man roamed her lovely body and she squirmed slightly with embarrassment on the blanket. She was aware that her clothes were more suitable to the flat beaches of Fort Lauderdale, Florida, where she had worn them up to her abrupt and shameful flight last June. Her first thought this morning had been to postpone her date with Roger until she could afford some new clothes, but then she had considered how much she wanted to be with him, and she had rationalized that the day was warm enough to allow her to appear so skimpily attired. Besides, she'd told herself as she'd dressed, she wanted to attract him very much and prove to herself that the evil curse she'd been living under had been broken by her flight across America to California.

"Darling…" Roger said softly, "Darling Miriam…"

"P-Please, Roger," she moaned. "Don't call me that."

"But I love you, Miriam. You certainly must be aware of that by now." He clenched his eyes tightly shut for a moment, brushing his hand through his thick black hair. "I think of you night and day, and if I don't say it I swear I'll go mad. Mad, do you hear? I… Love… You!" he said explosively through his teeth.

"You hardly know me, Roger," Miriam replied, swallowing thickly, her throat dry and constricted. "It's only been a month."

"I realize that," Roger sighed heavily. He bent down beside the murmuring stream and slowly revolved a bottle of red wine that was in the cold water, placed there earlier in order to chill it. His voice faltering, he managed to say: "I saw you that first day in the teacher's lounge and I said to myself then that you were the girl for me. I know it sounds foolish and certainly not very mature, but believe me, Miriam, I fell in love with you from the very first sight."

The lovely English teacher found that she was near to crying and she felt warm tears beginning to form around her eyes. She compressed her lips tightly, trying to control her own emotions, for she was truly attracted to this strong and virile man. Buck lifted his magnificent head and gently nuzzled her hand, licking her palm with a softly wet pink tongue as though he understood her distress. She glanced down at Roger's great and ever-present dog, managing to smile slightly in spite of herself.

"We… We better change the subject," she said tenderly as Roger turned and stood up with the wine.

"I'd hate to ruin your day with my maudlin feelings," he replied, his words abruptly clipped, his tone an articulation of his disappointment. "I must seem like an idiot to you now."

"No, Roger," she moaned weakly. "No, you're not. And… And it's not that I don't care for you. I do, I do very much."

"Then what is it?" he demanded, walking over to her.

"It's me," she whimpered, brushing the first real tear from her blurring eyes.

"Fine, just fine," he said sarcastically. He sat down beside her and viciously yanked at the cork of the bottle. "It's not me, which I can be glad about; the problem is with you. I'm not glad about that."

"Roger… Give me time. Please give me a little more time." She lowered her eyes dejectedly, slowly shaking her head as she bit her trembling lip. "Be gentle with me, Roger."

He studied her for a long moment, then reached out for her other, free hand. "Darling, I'm sorry." His deep onyx eyes softened and a warm affectionate smile brought white, even teeth into view. "I guess I'm being selfish. I thought I'd never love another woman after my wife Karen died eight years ago, but now I've found you. I… I want to marry you, Miriam, just as soon as I can."

She was unable to reply, only nodded mutely. She turned his hand so that her palm was against his and pressed gently, her own lovely blue eyes looking up into his. She searched his thin, expressive face with its prominent cheekbones and classic Roman nose, the finely delineated lips and deep dark eyes, and she intuitively knew at the bottom of her soul that he was sincere. He wanted to marry her, and, shockingly, she had to admit that she cared for him. He possessed an affable charm and forceful personality, and with his shirt off and his chest and back rippling with hard muscle, he was one of the most desirable men she had ever known. The urge to shout yes to him was nearly uncontrollable, but to care for him was one thing and to love him another. And then there was always the black and terrible cloud of her sordid, uncontrollable perversion hanging overhead…

Roger thought he could detect a teardrop forming in one of her eyes. "You told me about your ex-husband," he said in a soothing tone. "I mean, if you're reluctant because of your bad experience with him, I can understand. But darling, I'm not like him. I'm not the kind who will beat you or take a belt to you. I want to cherish you, not hurt you."