Midge Gette - Teaching Sex Education

Her hands clinched in her lap, she looked at the vanity mirror before her. Was she different now? Could someone tell by just looking at her that a degenerate had wiped himself on her? Everything had changed so quickly, her feelings about herself and everything apart from her.

She felt dirty, soiled as her clothing. Pulling them off with distaste, she flung the clothes onto the floor of her closet, planning, to throw them away the next day, not wanting to ever see them again much less feel them against her flesh. Wrapping herself in a towel, she went into the bathroom to shower, to try to bathe away what she felt inside.

From his window next door, Winslow watched Jennifer strip and go into the bathroom. Yet, he felt no joy at the sight of her body. He knew something was wrong. Her vacant manner, her repulsion with her clothing, the severed bra, the absence of panties and her shaky walk all indicated that someone had attacked her, had hurt her more than physically. Was it her boyfriend, he wondered with sadness and anger. No, it seemed unlikely.

Winslow turned away from the view. He felt like her father. He wanted to kill whoever the man or men were. But he could not even comfort her, could not let her free her fears and memories to his ear, could not avenge her. He felt helpless, and a little older, as if her robbed innocence had been partly his.

In his own bedroom, Jud sat with much the same feelings. Yet, he knew the details, knew the face of the men. It was a large city in which two people might never meet even if the men lived there, but he knew if he ever saw one of them he would live only long enough to lead him to the other. Jud was not a violent person, did not believe in violence as a solution, but he knew with certainty that he would not be able to restrain himself if the opportunity arose. They had brutalized the woman he loved and turned her against him, and that aroused something beyond rational response. As much as he wanted to beat the two of them to death, he also hoped that he would never see them again and thus could not have the opportunity. He did not want to be a murderer, he just wanted justice.

The next morning, Monday, Jennifer did not come to school and, when Jud phoned, her mother told him that she was feeling ill and could not come to the phone. Tuesday, he sat in front of the sprawl of the high school waiting for her. Just before the bell her mother dropped her off and she walked toward him, her eyes on the sidewalk.

"Jen, are you feeling better?" he asked, standing to walk alongside her.

She glanced at him with a forced smile, nodded, and continued on as before. Jud stopped at his classroom door and watched her move down the crowded hallway as if sleep walking, unaware that he was no longer at her side. Depressed, he went into the room to sit through that class, his mind elsewhere, seeking escape from his depression.

The rest of the week showed no change in her state of mind, and when they went out Saturday night there were only awkward silences, and Jud's dread that she would recoil if he touched her. After he took her home, he decided that he would not approach her again, seeing no benefits for either of them and only pain for him.

Winslow Bass left the blinds closed in his bedroom, wishing to spare himself of the sight of Jennifer in her present state.

Gloria Dallas passed Jennifer's silent staring off as a teenager's dreaminess, perhaps afraid to seek the explanation.

And Jennifer sat alone with a sense of emptiness and belief in the futility of finding order once again.

On Thursday of that week, Jud had stood to leave his Government class, the hour having passed without his attention.

"Jud?"

"Yes," Miss Bastrop?" he answered, startled from his thoughts of Jennifer.

"I'd like to talk with you about the test you took Monday," Gillian Bastrop said.

"Yes, ma'am," Jud nodded hesitantly.

"I'm afraid you failed it, Jud. Quite badly too. Your average so far is a low C. If you should do badly on the next test and the final… well, I'm afraid you might flunk the course. And as a graduating senior, I'm sure you don't want to have to go to summer school, do you?" she asked with concern.

"No, ma'am," Jud exhaled deeply. Didn't he have troubles enough without his grades going too, he wondered.

"Well, if you just blew off studying for this one test, you shouldn't have too much trouble. But if the material's giving you trouble…? Is it?"

"I, uh, my mind just hasn't been on it, I guess," he muttered nervously.

"Yes, all right. If you should need some help I'll do what I can," she offered. "Being tutored isn't much fun, but it can be better than spending the summer in a classroom."

"Thanks, Miss Bastrop. If I get bogged down, I'll call or something," he smiled foolishly.

"Fine. My number's in the teacher's directory. You can go now, Jud," she smiled at his awkwardness.

He nodded and left the room. Gillian watched him and then stood, walking to the windows of the empty classroom. Twenty-five years old, Gillian had been teaching high school classes as a full-time teacher for two years, taking graduate courses during the summers. She was slightly tall with a lithe fullness to her body. Light freckles and an olive complexion gave her flesh a warm, sultry glow. Auburn hair framed a face of symmetrical features beautiful in their simplicity. Only her heavily lidded green eyes, and her full lips stood out in their uncommon beauty, emphasized by the soft contours of cheek and forehead.

She wore her hair tied back, dressed in modest skirts and blouses, and wore her glasses which she needed only or long reading, while teaching. She did not become homely or unattractive, but her beauty was muted and, thus, the attentions of her male pupils was kept from wandering from their books When she had started, as a student-teacher, several days were always spent with the boys staring warmly at her, their interest in Government completely buried.

Standing at the window she watched Jud disappear in the parking lot amongst the other youths, and smiled at her memory, for she found herself wanting Jud's attention. She knew she was being foolish, but there was something about him that appealed greatly to her apart from her relation to him as a teacher.

Though men often were attracted to her, she seldom felt a responsive emotion. Alex was only the third or fourth man she had ever met that she truly wanted to be with. And he was in Europe. An engineer, he had taken a year's assignment working in Italy, telling her that he was not sure if he was ready to settle down, and that he felt the time apart would answer the question for both of them. But he had been gone almost nine months, and though she had been able to involve herself with school work during that time, the summer was quickly approaching and he had yet to indicate a decision in his letters.

She loved him and missed him, and hoped that he would return to her. In the meantime, though, her desires had lain unquenched at least until she had seen Jud at the beginning of the spring semester.

The boyish innocence of his eyes combined with clean, chiseled features and the man's body had quickly brought him to her eye. Yet, she had neither done nor said anything, merely using him as a visual focus for her passions. Then at the beginning of the week something had changed in him. The eyes were still open to dreams and quests, but there was a sadness about them. As well, some of the lines around his eyes seemed tighter. It was as if he had suddenly had a man's world thrust upon him. The combination of boyish inexperience and honesty mixed with the body and sense of experience of a man was overpowering.

While he had stared at the floor as they spoke, she had for the first time allowed her eyes to linger upon the full crotch of his jeans. She had wanted to embrace him, to feel his knowing yet gentle hands, to see his face above hers, opened to the assault of a climax within her. She had, of course, known this to be but a fantasy that would only confuse him and probably end her teaching career. Thus, she had spoken consolingly about his grades. Yet, she had indirectly invited him to her home under the pretext of tutoring. Would he accept the offer, or realize its implication? For that matter, would she pursue her desires if he did come to her home?