Lament for Amy

Amy replied, "Yes. For the new semester. See you there?" She received no reply as she walked passed them. As she walked away she could just hear "Wow, Miss Smith's Hot." "Now that's what I call a true TILF." Amy was flattered by the comments, not that she understood tilf. She did understand hot though. She smiled to herself. It had many years since she'd received any attention of that sort from the students.

After Amy had signed the requisite paperwork and returned it to the office she made her way to her classroom. The corridors were now empty. The gym teacher was overseeing the class. The students in the grade ten class all stood up as Amy entered the room. The configuration was not arranged as she would have it.

Looking at her colleague, Amy spoke, "Sit down. I will be starting on Monday for the new semester. Carry on." Amy left but she had made the initial step forward and had dipped her toe back into the teaching world.

Amy worked out hard and attended church over the weekend. At the Church she made a real effort to see and, more importantly, be seen by the priest, to whom she spoke some pleasantries after introducing herself. He was new. She also attended confession, admitting to enough to sound reasonable.

After she left Amy felt some shame at not feeling anything in the service nor in the confessional. After a lifetime of devotion Amy just felt empty, seeing no worth in the rituals except the pragmatic consideration of word getting back to the school that she was a good catholic. She knew from other teachers and one supervisor that the feedback was always being sent.

It was snowing on the Monday. Amy used her treadmill to run 5 miles before showering, carefully dressing in dark blue tailored trousers, a teal cashmere sweater with a v-neckline and sensible heeled shoes. She was not sure how her feet would hold with a whole day on them.

Amy was surprised how quickly she slid back into the routine of giving a class. She knew the syllabus and what had to be done. She had some problems with the fact there was only a few sets of paints and brushes and made a note to speak to Sandra about this shortage.

In fact Amy registered that Sandra had not even made an effort to see her. She wondered for a moment if she should have sought out Sandra. Amy had the morning class rearrange the furniture to her liking.

After lunch Amy was surprised to see the class of grade twelve almost full. She immediately noticed the Four Musketeers at the back and two other girls. She was only one student short of a full compliment. The class was satisfactory but Amy noticed that the four at the back were becoming more and more rowdy as the period went along. She knew she had to jump on this quickly.

After supper at home Amy called up the information on the Four Musketeers on her home computer. Heinrick, known as Ricky, was the leader of the group and on the football field as a quarterback. At six foot one he was slightly smaller than Alberto – Berty – who was a forward.

Then there was Michael – Mikey - the nerdy one, and finally Jason – Jase – who was neither physically nor academically gifted. Jase was like the water boy to the others, fetching and going for them. In spite of this, the other three treated him well and he would follow any of them anywhere.

Amy discovered that Ricky and Berty had both been given good financial football University scholarships. Mikey had been accepted on scholarship at Princeton. Amy knew she had leverage.

Amy had exercised at the gym in the next morning before school. She dressed in a skirt and a silk blouse with a light bolero type of jacket. All the items were new and tailored to her body, although she noticed that even in the short time since she bought them they were now already a bit loose around her waist and hips. She had two grade nine classes in the morning and the disruptive grade twelve in the afternoon. The grade nine students were sweet and good for Miss Smith. She loved them all.

The afternoon class was under control for the first half but under the influence of the four slowly disintegrated into a chaotic mess as the class went on. At the end Amy stood on the front desk and screamed for silence. I want Heinrick, Alberto, Michael and Jason to stay after class. A loud "woo-hoo" greeted the announcement.

After the others had left. Ricky spoke up defiantly, "We have practice in thirty minutes." Amy stared him down.

"This will not take thirty minutes." Amy spoke with a cold fury. Her face was flushed. "Ricky and Alberto, you both have scholarships to University. Good scholarships. I assume you really want them."

With a derisory snarl to his voice Ricky spoke up, "Of course we do." He paused, "Miss."

"Who said you could speak? Be quite until I am finished. All of you." She banged an old mug that contained pencils onto her desk so hard to emphasize the point it broke and the pencils scattered. Jason moved to clear them up but was stopped before he could leave his chair. "Leave them." Amy had their attention now.

"This school you are going to had some problems with its football team. Three years ago there was evidence of sexual impropriety and the whole season was cancelled. They are now very sensitive to this issue. Now listen very carefully. If I have any more trouble with you I will accuse you both of some form of sexual behavior that will be sufficiently strong and also impossible to disprove that will cause the University to have second thoughts about you and probably rescind your scholarships and prevent you going there."

"You can't do that...."

"I said, you cannot speak until I tell you to. Shut up."

"Mikey. I have a good friend who is a dean at Princeton. I am not sure if I can get your entry or scholarship rescinded but I can have a good shot at it. You are playing with fire if you challenge this. Jason. You just have to behave yourself and not be naughty. I will give you five minutes on your own to discuss what I have just told you. You are all quite smart boys and must have at least a glimmering of what I might or might not achieve to change your life's direction."

"All I want is for the disruption of my class to stop. Ricky you, nor any of you, give Marsha a massage during class. You do not look at my breasts rather then my eyes when you talking to me. You do not try to peak up my skirt if I sit on the desk. You sit quietly and do what I set for you."

"Do you understand? If you do and agree to stop being disruptive, and even go further to squash anyone else being disruptive, I can get on and teach you and the other twenty-five of the students something about art. Get it? I am going to leave and will return in five minutes for your decision. What you decide may well direct the rest of your life." Amy rose and left the room.

When Amy returned. All four boy/men were sitting quietly and upright in their chairs. "Decided then?"

"We'll be good. We'll do it your way."

"Good call Ricky. I can see why you are a star quarterback."

"To make it easier I'll give you some incentive. If you can achieve a B grade on all class work and homework I will sit for you to draw me after you graduate. I heard you think I am hot and a tilf, whatever that is, so work hard and try to do well. Remember a B grade or higher excluding any tests I give." The students suddenly had broad grins on their faces and bulges in their trousers.

"What will you wear?" Ricky again.

"You can choose from any of the outfits I wear through the year in class. Is that fair? What was that Alberto? Speak up."

"I was wondering if you'd do a life pose?"

Amy smiled internally. She remembered Berty was an excellent draftsman. "No Berty. I'll be clothed. But if you do a good job on me then I may bring in a professional model for you to draw. Remember this takes place only after you all graduate."

Amy paused for a moment for that to sink in. "One final thing. I am willing to keep what we have agreed in here to myself. Are you willing to do the same. No discussion about what we have agreed. The pact we have. OK?"

They all nodded. "OK?" "Yes. OK." "Then we're good. Twenty-five minutes. Go enjoy your practice."

Amy heard Alberto lean over to Ricky and in a loud whisper declare, "She's still a TILF.'

They left and Amy sighed a breath of relief. She did not what she would have done had they called her bluff.

When Amy was at home, finished supper, showered and was in her nightdress, she checked her e-mails and answered a few routine items that related to work. On impulse she remembered her afternoon's confrontation with a smile of satisfaction. She'd shown those boys who was boss.

Then the thought occurred to her she didn't understand what a 'tilf' is. In spite of all her linguistic skills this was not a word she knew as crossover from another European language. She entered what she thought the spelling as she heard it T-I-L-F. The search engine pointed her to an Urban Dictionary – one she's never heard of before – and there it was. At first Amy was horrified. "They wanted to do what?"

She suddenly wondered if she was losing touch with the recent youth. Then Amy could not help smiling at the courage of today's kids, saying such a thing. She asked herself if it was any worse, in their mind, than saying she was 'hot', which flattered her.

In a reaction that was totally new to her she thought how it might be to have that big guy fuck her. She felt a wicked shudder run through her body. She was not actually aroused, but the small wave of pleasure was a precursor of what might be possible. Amy went to bed thinking about the Four Musketeers.

Amy's classes went well. The Four Musketeers behaved themselves. Amy saw they were trying to do well and was not surprised to see that Alberto had some real talent. With success he worked harder and became the art leader of his group, although Ricky was still the Boss.

Amy started to think of Alberto, not so much as Berty as Tilfy. She experience a new sensation, she started to look at the student boys as men. Not just the Four but also all of the boys, and that then extended to the girls a well – they looked like young women as the year ran down. She tried to remember how she felt at that age, and was unable to capture the time.

With about three weeks to go Tilfy approached Amy and asked if the deal was still on. Amy remembered it well but had to now face the reality of making it happen. She wondered how she would find a couple of life models. She had no idea where they could hold the session, or sessions. Amy wondered if she could pose nude for the boys.

Once more beginning to feel the pangs of excitement as he processed the thought. She confirmed the deal was still on, and that she never welshed on a deal. She would get back to them with details, asking them what dates they had available after the end of term and graduation. They arrived at three Sundays immediately after graduation and term end.

In the final weeks of school Amy became more and more preoccupied with watching the Four. She looked at their trim bodies and tight behinds. In their own way each was handsome. At home her fantasies began to grow and she found herself becoming aroused by the thought of them and how they were hung. She wrestled with how wrong this was and kept it at bay when at school.

Amy also had other things on her mind. The trust arrangements were coming together between her lawyer and the bank. Amy was looking forward to a sandbox whereby she will be able to buy art, teach art and give overseas courses. Amy also arranged to have access to two hundred thousand dollars that allowed her the freedom to spend as she wished. Amy did shop, but she no longer went on binges to fill her wardrobe. Amy found a small high-end shop run by the owner whose taste was impeccable and whose advice Amy followed.

Another major distraction was a plot of land that Sharon became aware of. The Taiwanese owner who had bought it 20 years earlier as an investment, but because of the rock and a small escarpment running across the fifty acres it was undevelopable. The land had become wild and scrubby over the years without attention. It was far from attractive, but it was only 10 minutes from town and it was cheap. Sharon knew the lawyer representing the overseas owner, which was the estate of the original purchaser. They wish to unload as quickly as possible. The property had a still sturdy barn on it and the services had reached the road running along the frontage.

Sharon suggested this as a possible home for the Trust – she could see the possibilities as a place to develop an Art Centre. Sharon assembled architects she knew socially, both for a building and landscaping, to look at the possibilities, and quickly pulled a report together, holding off the seller to wait for an offer. Amy bought into the concept and the money it would likely cost. The Trust went ahead with the purchase and the whole development was put into motion.

The activities of the Trust were just background noise to Amy as she concentrated on her students as she had always done, with the difference being the increasing influence and impact of the Four Musketeers.

Amy was getting desperate to find a location to hold the painting/drawing sessions. Eventually she lucked into a large house when a distant art friend, who was getting desperate herself, asked Amy to look after the house as they were going to Europe for a month. It was in a secluded location and had a great studio. Amy approached the local community college for names of life models and was able to find only one female model when she offered her twice the normal rate and the price of a taxi ride to work on Sundays.

The year finished with all of the Four receiving B and A grades. They graduated and the painting session was on.

Amy visited her favourite store and explained what she wanted and walked out with a heavy silk phthalo blue kimono. On the recommendation of the owner she travelled a few shops down the parade to a lingerie shop. Here she was outfitted with outrageously expensive panties and a bra in pale lavender. She was now ready.

"This is rather special," Lianne couldn't help remarking as they entered an upscale restaurant that Shelley had chosen to meet.

"Jim and I come here all the time. They know me. It'll be a good place to chat. My treat, as we agreed. Ok?" Jim, Shelley's husband, was a high-flying lawyer who could well afford to dine there regularly.

"If you insist."

"In any event. We must make Amanda's wake something special."

"That's what this is?"

"Yep. And I have a story to tell you. There was no time at the funeral, even though there was so few of us."

"I saw the Four Musketeers attended though. That was good of them."

"I'm not so sure about that."

They swept through the doors into the refined and comfortable dining room. The headwaiter knew Shelley well. He ushered them to a reserved cubicle at the back. It was almost a private dining area.

"Wine. They have a special we really like. Do you mind if I choose?"

"Go ahead. I'm sure I'll like it if it's red."

"It is." Shelley only had to raise her eyebrows and the waiter came over and took the wine order and left the menus.

"Shelley, you are going to have to bring me up to speed on this whole affair. I had heard that Amanda had died about a month ago. But why was there the delay in the funeral? It can't take that long to arrange."

"I need to back up. I'll go right back to the beginning." Shelley gathered her thoughts.

"Amanda and I studied modern languages together at University. I've known her – been friends with her – for over twenty years, can you believe? She was good at the colloquial side of languages – the romance languages; French, Italian and Spanish and of course Latin – I excelled in the written side, and understanding the literature, particularly French."

"We both took the teaching courses together, and started teaching at the same time albeit at different schools in our Board. It was only four years ago I came to our present school. In the meantime Amanda had moved from teaching French, which she hated, to teaching Art which she loved."

The wine arrived, was sampled and poured. They both took a big swig of the vintage wine.

"We have been close friends for a long time. Then, as you probably heard, her brother and father died within a month of each other. I knew about them and had met them both on many occasions. Her brother was brilliant and stupid at the same time. Her father always came over as being unfulfilled."

Shelly took a sip from her glass. "I was around for Amanda after the deaths, and then she had her breakdown. That was tough sledding I can tell you. Amanda curled herself up in a ball on her bed for weeks on end. I used to visit weekly, and basically did housework for about four hours while I was there. Amanda was uncommunicative no matter how much I spoke to her."

"I tried speaking in French and Italian to her but it made no difference. Eventually, at my urging – and I think she was beginning to come out of the deepest part of the depression herself at this time – she saw her doctor and her healing began."

"I was very busy at school and with the demands of my family through the spring my visits to visit Amanda stretched out to every other week. Amanda seemed to be improving very slowly, but incremental improvements were visible. For example she started showering regularly. No matter what I said earlier she just stank to high heaven."

The two ladies looked and ordered at the menu to get rid of the hovering waiter.

"Finally, at the beginning of this year her improvement was much more steady and she was once more showing an interest in the world. I was surprised when she asked if I knew a lawyer she could use. Dah – I was married to one. Anyway Jim fixed her up with one of the less expensive women lawyers at his office on a semi-pro-bono basis."

"As the school year wore on and I again became desperately busy I only saw her about once a month, and she was totally coherent with me and had taken her appearance and fitness under control. I was pleased that she would be ready to return to school in September. As you know she did not make it and died in Mid July."

"So Amy's story is Amanda's? Why write it in the third person?""

"Yes and no. Parts are a bit of Amanda but a lot is not. I speculate that she was trying to distance herself from her own story, so she wrote about Amy."

"I was trying to piece that together. Near the start she talks about her fiftieth birthday celebrations, but I remember it was only her fortieth. I found that weird."

"Let me fill you in a bit about Amanda's death. It may make things a bit clearer. Amanda died in a house on Forrest Close in the Heights area. Quite near where we live. Why she was there was mystery at first. Even more mysterious was that Lyle Brocken phoned in for the EMS."

"How do you know this? That young hunk Lyle was at the funeral, I noticed." Lianne was bursting with curiosity.

"It's complicated. Heather was consulted by the police and given the full story. Amanda has no relatives that anyone can find, so the police turned to Heather as her Principal for information – not that she had much beyond the broad bones."

"Heather called me in as her closest friend and told me what she knew. After that, the police also spoke to me once, but I could offer very little help. I also learned a lot more from Jim who considered that there was no longer any confidentiality with the client dead and no family, nor Will to be concerned with, and they had dropped the case against the debt collectors."