Peter Jensen - A husband_s hobby

"Yeah… sure," the older man replied vaguely. "But I want to give all the kids a fair chance… and individual assignments aren't fair to everybody… Some boys won't learn anything, and some will do all the work… What have you got in mind anyway, Natalie?"

The young teacher was grateful to have the opportunity to talk about something more concrete. She took out the notepapers in the other folder and offered them across the desk. "It's just a progressive series of assignments… Some boys might finish this set in a day, and others might take a week, but at least they'll all learn something…" She looked up expectantly, and nearly sighed aloud when she now that Stuart's eyes were again feasting on her insufficiently disguised curves. "Mr. Brooks," she began formally, in near-exasperation, "am I doing something wrong?"

It was the Camp Director's turn to be startled, but his initial surprise at Mark's wife's spirited question was quickly replaced by a half-smile of amusement. He liked a lady with guts, and he suddenly had the urge to find out just how gutsy this brunette chick was. Hell, old Jenkins wouldn't mind… weren't they old college buddies? A licentious gleam crept into the older man's eyes as he almost imperceptibly shoved his chair back from the over-sized desk.

"No, Natalie," he said evenly, the salacious smile still playing on his lips, "you're not doing anything wrong… yet. But I sure would like to do something wrong with you!"

The intent of the handsome bachelor's remark was unmistakable, and the young wife suddenly froze to her chair. She didn't move when Stuart slowly stepped around the desk and came over to close the door to the office. His hairy bare leg brushed suggestively against her smooth, slender thigh as he secured the lock and turned back to look down at the trembling young teacher.

"Now, isn't it better to have that hot sun blocked out? The glare was so bright I couldn't even see these papers you brought me." But even though he was talking in a normal tone of voice about a normal subject, the Camp Director didn't go back to his seat. His body was leaning uncomfortably over Natalie's seated form, and she instinctively inclined away from his hovering body.

"Yes, it… it was rather… warm… Stuart…" she stammered. "I think that I'll just… go on back to the cabin. You can keep those folders and… and see what you th-think of my idea." Her voice was quavering so badly at the end of her statement that she was afraid she wouldn't be able to say anything else, and she had to get out of that office quick!

She tried to stand up from the folding chair, but her shoulder collided squarely with the older man's chest, and she felt his hand at her elbow.

"Oh, not so fast, Natalie," he admonished, "I was enjoying our little talk. I'm sure you can understand… In my work here, I rarely get the chance to talk at any length with women – especially as nice looking as you."

"Thank you, Stuart," Natalie replied hurriedly as she tried again to stand-up. "But I have some papers to grade."

"After only two days, Natalie? I may not be a teacher, but I know you don't get assignments to correct after only two days!" The Camp Director leaned against the edge of the desk and positioned his legs on either side of the young woman's demurely crossed thighs.

Oh, Lord this can't be happening, the curvaceous teacher said to herself. I'm only imagining that he's… he-s m-making a pass at me… aren't I? She looked up curiously into the light-brown-haired man's still-smiling face. His eyes were fixed firmly on the barely-concealed vee up between her crossed legs, as though his gaze was burning right into and through her thin nylon panties. God no! she protested inwardly.

"Ah, yes… this is much better," the Camp Director said with smug satisfaction. "You know, old Mark is quite a lucky guy to be married to such a… a liberal woman as you are."

"Liberal?" Natalie repeated confusedly. What did he mean by that?

"Certainly," Stuart confirmed. "I mean, you go in for all the new, liberal education ideas… and you like to let everybody do their own thing…" He glanced down at her and pressured inward with his powerful legs so that his inner thighs squeezed into her bare satiny skin. "I suppose your – uh – personal life is just as progressive as your teaching…"

This last observation sounded like a question, and Natalie wasn't sure how to answer it. The Camp Director was obviously hinting broadly at her most private sexual habits, but she couldn't believe her ears. This man was supposed to be a friend of her husband's! How could be seriously considering… God! She couldn't even complete the thought.

Desperately she glanced around the tiny little office, groping for some clue as to what she should do. But there was nothing, no picture on which she could comment, not even a clock so she could pretend to be late for something. She wanted sincerely to say something blunt and unmistakable, that would put an end to the older man's salacious insinuations, but she knew she couldn't jeopardize her job. She had come here specifically to see if the change of environment might do something to help her and Mark's relationship, and already she had made one potentially dangerous mistake. She just couldn't compound her error. All she could do was just sit Stuart out, and hope that he didn't have the audacity to do what he seemed to be hinting at.

But Natalie Jenkins wasn't aware of the Camp Director's past, and she didn't have any idea how he had managed to finance his whole camp project. Had she known, she would have realized that anything Stuart Brooks wanted, Stuart Brooks got, by whatever methods were required. And right now, Stuart Brooks wanted to know a lot more about his college friend's wife… a lot more than she imagined.

The older man finally raised his eyes from the teacher's trembling form and glanced toward the window with a faraway look. "Yeah," he said almost absentmindedly, "I can tell you're one of those hot and hearty types… You remind me of a woman I knew – I hope I'm not offending you – who used to get off on two-three guys at a time…"

Natalie gasped at the man's boldness, unable to say anything to stop his suggestive comments. She winced inwardly as he continued, apparently unaware of her discomfort.

"Yeah, that Lollie was quite some chick, Natalie… and she was a lot like you, married and all, but a real swinger. Do you and old Mark swing, Natalie?"

Oh, God! Oh God! the black-haired teacher groaned to herself. What on earth can I say? I've go to get out of here! Abruptly she rose from her chair, pushing Stuart's legs away from her own as she shook free of his subtle grip on her thighs. "No, we don't swing," she lied hotly, embarrassed by the idea that just this afternoon she had succumbed to what might be considered swinging in the Camp Director's eyes.

Undaunted by the woman's sudden movements, Stuart moved away from her chair and reached into a small medicine cabinet on the wall. "Can I fix you a drink?" he asked smoothly, as if he didn't know she was preparing to leave. "I'd like you to stay awhile… at least until the dinner call… We can have a nice cocktail together. It's cocktail hour, now, isn't it?"

He seemed amused by his own observation, and without waiting for Natalie to reply, he poured her a vodka-seven using a mixer from the ice chest behind his desk. The voluptuous, scantily-clad young teacher was caught off balance by the Camp Director's incongruous offer of a drink, and she accepted it almost without realizing what she was doing. A soothing drink was just what she needed right now, even if it was supposed to be contrary to camp policy. She smiled out of the corner of her eyes at the man who dictated the camp policy, letting him know that she was aware of his double standard.