The Prom

"We're here!" Miss Blount called.

The car pulled into a parking lot outside a prim white church. A sign in front that said Lamplight Ministries confirmed that it is indeed the church that Miss Treadway and Miss Larsson attend for bible study with several other women (mostly teachers) who live in Thatcher Blake. Except for the soft golden glow of light from the basement windows of the church, the place was almost completely dark in spite of the lone street light near the far end of the parking lot.

"It's awful dark out here." Miss Blount said as she opened the door to let me out. "I don't want you to trip and ruin that pretty dress. Here, I've got just the thing."

The older woman whipped out a flashlight from under the passenger seat as Miss Larsson got out of the car. She switched it on and told me to take hold of her arm. Miss Blount shined the flashlight down on the pavement as we walked until we reached the side entrance of the church. Miss Larsson opened the door to let us inside, and the three of us walked down the flight of stairs leading to the church basement.

I could hear Dean Martin crooning a muffled line from Memories Are Made of This, and when we reached the bottom of the stairs, Miss Larsson led the way down a short corridor to a set of double doors she opened to a party that was in full swing. The entire space was packed with women!

I recognized some of the women who belonged to the bible study group that Miss Treadway and Miss Larsson attend. Miss Horst, my gym teacher from junior high, was standing by a service window that looked into a small kitchen. There was a punch bowl and a neat little cluster of empty glasses waiting to be filled. Miss Blount waved to Miss Horst across the crowded room, and then she turned to me.

"Would you like a drink?"

I nodded. I would have probably answered yes, but I was too stunned by the strange sights all around me to say anything. Miss Larsson accompanied us across the room, stopping momentarily to say hello to a couple of party guests. When we reached the punch bowl, I saw Miss Larsson lean in to Miss Blount to say something before disappearing into the crowd. Miss Blount must have noticed the look of panic crossing my face because she said:

"Oh, don't worry about her, Ciara. I'm a much better date than that silly boy who dumped you! Besides, I don't bite...much."

I was so embarrassed she said that, I could have died right there! I tried to hide my face, but Miss Horst must have noticed me. The older woman slapped my arm lightly and handed me a glass of punch.

"It was a joke! Velma, how are we going to have any pretty young girls left to dance with if you keep scaring them all away?"

I can't explain why, but I started to feel really nervous as I took a couple of tentative sips of the punch Miss Horst handed to me. Here we are in a church basement at a party, and I could swear that I detected the bitter notes of some kind of hard liquor in the punch! I've had plenty of drinks before at parties my friends have thrown. But usually I stuck to beer. I've hardly ever touched hard liquor before! A church basement full of women is the last place I'd expect to find it, much less drink it. I think Miss Blount sensed my apprehension.

"I promise not to think less of you if you have a little punch, young lady. Relax!"

I didn't feel very comfortable with this. I noticed that there were an awful lot of older women at this party. A lot of them are the sexually ambiguous type; masculine and intimidating. I noticed there were a few younger party guests like me in the crowd too. I wondered if any of them came from any other high schools in Thatcher Blake, or if they were students from Blake College. Miss Blount was still trying to reassure me. I wanted to just forget about Jason Pope, Bobbie Brinkman, and the prom, so after Miss Horst refilled my punch glass, I heard myself say "Oh, well. What's the worst that can happen?" before downing the punch in one huge gulp.

Suddenly, I coughed and sputtered as the taste of liquor overpowered the punch and my taste buds. It felt like molten lava pouring down my throat as I choked on it. The two gym teachers started laughing at me, and Miss Blount casually drank down a glass while Miss Horst was filling one for herself. I noticed that Miss Blount didn't have a hard time drinking it at all. She acted like she was knocking back an ice cold glass of lemonade on a sweltering July afternoon! Miss Horst patted me on the back while I coughed my way to recovery.

"Not ready for that were you, young lady?"

"Don't worry. It puts hair on your chest."

Miss Blount said. She gulped down another glass of punch.

"Want another one?"

Miss Blount handed me another drink, and this time I opted to take it slower. I could feel my tightened abdomen heating up like the interior of a kiln as the alcohol metabolized in my stomach. I reasoned that this was not an unpleasant feeling. Soon I could feel a buzzing in my head, and I felt an urge to laugh along with these two gym teachers who were old enough to be my parents. I guess maybe I was feeling too tightly wound due to the business earlier with Bobbie and Jason and Miss Treadway's necklace. For once tonight I was ready to kick back, relax, and enjoy myself. I even began to forget about Miss Treadway and the fact that Miss Larsson decided to ditch me here with these two and forget about me. Who needs either of them?

"That...really wasn't so bad." I said to Miss Blount.

"Is that so? Well, your little fit kind of told me otherwise!" She said.

For a couple of minutes, the three of us stood around drinking more punch and awkwardly watching the party. Miss Horst and Miss Blount looked at each other as if they were both wondering what to do next. After Miss Blount waved at another woman nearby who shouted a greeting at her, she nodded at Miss Horst and said she's going to go use the restroom. Miss Horst turned to me now.

"Since you're all dressed up, would you like to dance?"

Miss Horst had her hand on my shoulder now. I looked around uncomfortably to see if anyone was watching. Miss Horst is very tall and she resembles that Jane Hathaway character on The Beverly Hillbillies. She was dressed in a dark blue shirt and plaid slacks with dark dress loafers. It was the sort of outfit I'd expect someone like her to wear. It was not unlike a lot of outfits I'd see on Miss Treadway when she is not at school. I scrunched up my face and started to shake my head.

"Jeez, Miss Horst..."

"I think you ought to relax a little!" She said brusquely.

Someone swapped the record playing on the turntable for one with a slow instrumental song. It was a song that was clearly meant for couples. It reminded me of so many times after school when I'd hang out in the future leaders' classroom talking to Miss Treadway. My eyes searched the crowded church basement. There were no signs of Miss Blount or Miss Larsson, and I definitely could not find Miss Treadway. I wondered where she could possibly be. Did Miss Larsson and Miss Blount bring me here with intentions of dumping me on Miss Horst? Why in the hell would they do such a thing?

"Come on, Ciara!" Miss Horst said. "Don't be such a stick in the mud!"

"All right, I'll dance!" I said.

My voice was shaking badly. But what could I do at this point? I couldn't walk home from here. The church is located on a side of town that is too far from home. I tried to reason that maybe this will be something new and different and besides, I felt kind of obligated to be nice to Miss Horst even though I didn't exactly get along with her when I was in junior high. Miss Treadway helped me to land a job at Kent next year as Miss Horst's assistant. I couldn't mess this up! I'm going to Blake College starting in the fall. I still wanted very badly to be a teacher like Miss Treadway. Miss Horst had a bemused smile on her face as she led me out to the floor with the other dancers.

"Call me Jude, okay?"

"Uh...okay."

I felt so self-conscious as Miss Horst held me in her arms and we started awkwardly swaying in slowly revolving circles along with the other dancing couples. We danced for a minute or so when Miss Horst said:

"I think you should put your arms around my waist, young lady...it'll make it easier for us to move to the music."

I slowly moved my hands from the older woman's sides to her waist. I noticed the light cotton material of Miss Horst's shirt felt slightly damp. Perhaps she's been sweating. The entire basement felt like the inside of a furnace, but maybe it was just my perception. Miss Horst's body felt very warm, slender, toned, and powerful under my hands. She felt exactly like Miss Treadway.

"Mind if I get a little closer?"

Miss Horst asked softly. By now, I was feeling very light headed as the punch was clearly taking effect. It was causing a strong buzz that threatened to overwhelm my body and my senses. I realized then that I was definitely tipsy. I figured I wasn't too far off from being completely smashed! Maybe that was why I nodded my assent to Miss Horst.

The older woman drew me closer to her so our bodies were now touching. The gym teacher's strong arms wrapped tightly around my body, and I could feel my small breasts pressing hard against her flat chest. Like I've mentioned before, the school principals in Thatcher Blake seem to definitely have a type when it comes to female PE teachers! It sort of felt nice to be held so closely by another woman like this. It felt safe. It felt so natural. Miss Horst gave me an affectionate squeeze.

"There we go...that's nice, isn't it?"

I nodded in silence, settling into a besotted sort of bliss as we danced. I laid my head against the older woman's chest, listening to her heart beat. Miss Horst was stroking the back of my neck.

"Such a pretty little princess..."

After several minutes passed, I sensed a stern presence behind me, and I felt Miss Horst gently lifting my head away from her chest.

"Mind if I cut in, Jude?"

"Of course, CJ! She's all yours."

I saw Miss Treadway standing there looking stern and steely as ever. She drew me towards her, wrapping her strong slender arms around me possessively. I watched in transfixed silence as she and Miss Horst exchanged quick kisses before the latter went off in search of another dance partner.

In spite of my buzzed state, I noticed that Miss Treadway wasn't dressed for a party like the other guests. She wore a light short sleeved shirt and plaid shorts. A momentary glimmer of light drew my eyes down to the set of keys dangling at her waist, and she was wearing her gym whistle around her neck as though she was at school. She looked like she was ready to walk all over somebody at any moment. I reasoned that it must be the dark frames of her glasses that never fail to make her look so severe. I wondered if she was angry with me for dancing with Miss Horst. A few of the women on the dance floor seemed to be staring at us.

"It's...not what you think, Carol Jean."

Miss Treadway lifted my chin up to meet her condescending gaze.

"So I rescued you just in time, hmm? You know since I am still your teacher, I expect you to call me Miss Treadway."

I heard a burst of laughter issue from a small group of women who were standing near the refreshment table. Two of them looked like they were maybe in college while another one was much older like Miss Treadway with short silver gray hair. I didn't recognize any of them. I'm not even sure if they were laughing at us or something else, but I knew I wanted to just get out of there.

"That's a beautiful gown, Ciara." Miss Treadway said.

"I got it at the mall." I muttered. "It's...nothing."

"How did the prom go?"

Miss Treadway was staring intently at me. Her expression told me that she knew everything. She probably heard it all from Miss Larsson. Her grip on me began to tighten considerably, and it seemed like there were dozens of strangers' eyes on me all at once. I felt like I was suffocating. I was afraid I might pass out any minute, yet at the same time, a sudden surge of anger and defiance ripped through my insides.

"As if someone like you could possibly care, Miss TreadGAY!"

Miss Treadway flinched noticeably at the sound of my drunken attempt to insult her. I started to stumble a little, and Miss Treadway caught me before I had the chance to collapse on the floor in front of everyone. My head was swimming. It was as if my inhibitions were melting quickly away with my sobriety. I immediately began to regret what I'd just said.

"You went to the prom with Jason Pope...didn't you?"

A sudden rush of emotion got the better of me, and I gagged as I realized I threw up a little in my mouth. Is the alcohol affecting me that much? I excused myself and fought my way through the thick crowd of women dancing and conversing over punch to the bathroom to take care of some much needed business.

When I left the bathroom, I was startled to see Miss Treadway standing just outside the door. She has been waiting for me this whole time, I thought. My gym teacher wasted no time wrapping a possessive arm around me. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that she was worried that one of these other women might grab me or something.

"I think you've had enough fun." She said. "Time for us to get going."

Miss Treadway led me through the crowd towards the exit. As we walked, several women called out their goodbyes:

"Right on, CJ! I'm so jealous!"

"Goodnight, CJ. You two have fun!"

"Don't run the little princess too ragged, CJ!"

I wondered what that last woman meant by what she just said. I tried to reason with myself that some of these women belong to Miss Treadway's bible study group. Of course they must know (or they have an idea) that we are lovers. I could feel a strange mixture of excitement and anxiety well up inside of me for what might come next as we exited the church and reached Miss Treadway's car. Anything could happen, but I trust my gym teacher implicitly. After all I've been through with her how could I not? Besides, my diminished sobriety was doing nothing to help me reconsider the situation I was about to get into.

********

Neither of us said much of anything as we drove back across town in the general direction towards North Haskell. Miss Treadway softly whistled the tune of a hymn I once heard being sung in a different church several years ago when I was a small child. Her whistle was similar to Miss Larsson's, lilting and masculine.

I didn't bother asking my teacher where we were going. After several minutes of driving in near silence, I started to recognize some familiar streets and darkened storefronts with an occasional cluster of porches bathed in soft yellow light. We weren't going to Miss Treadway's house. We weren't headed to North Haskell either. We were going to the Emmerson Community Center.

Miss Treadway pulled the car over and parked a couple of blocks away from the community center. I realized right away that this was by design. The community center is closed for the night, and the parking lot was completely empty of cars.

"Let's go, Ciara. Take hold of my arm so you don't trip on your gown."

I felt Miss Treadway coaxing me out of the passenger seat of her car. She linked her arm in mine and we walked through the dark to our destination. A large dark bag was slung over her other shoulder, and I heard her reaching for the key ring on her belt loop. I wondered what was in the bag.

The Emmerson Community Center is a sprawling brutalist building situated in an older neighborhood made up of quaint two story houses and brick apartment buildings. The popular complex has several classrooms, large and small gymnasiums, natatorium, a ball diamond, and several tennis courts. I was confused. I wondered why we were here. My stomach was full of butterflies as we reached a side entrance that was obscured from view by a small cluster of trees. Miss Treadway fiddled with the key ring for several seconds until she found the key she needed to open the doors. Once we were inside, my mind went into overdrive.

As I followed my teacher through the darkened rooms and halls, I pelted her with questions. One of them began with the word who, as in "Who were those women who said goodbye to you at the church?" and "What did that woman mean by 'don't run the little princess too ragged'?" I still felt woozy from the punch I drank earlier. My gaze was fixed on that bag Miss Treadway carried with her.

Miss Treadway sighed an exasperated sigh. It was a sound I was used to hearing during PE when any of her students were being difficult. I really wondered if she was mad at me for dancing with Miss Horst or if something else was bothering her. She explained rather dismissively that the church holds a bi-monthly get-together for women who wanted a safe place to socialize without the threat of any men bothering them.

As for what that woman said as we were leaving the church, Miss Treadway curtly said: "I don't know what you're talking about, Ciara. You must have been hearing things."

After a couple of minutes of following Miss Treadway in silence, we reached the ladies' locker room. She opened the door to let me in, and suddenly I was almost completely blinded by the flood of bright light as she flipped on a few of the switches. We wove through a few rows of lockers and stopped at a bank of lockers closest to the showers. I was still distracted by that bag Miss Treadway brought with her. She set the bag down on the bench and produced from it a pair of sneakers along with a pile of neatly folded clothes and a towel. I started to say something, but my rather blurry train of thought was halted abruptly by my teacher's gruff commanding voice:

"Young lady, I want you to take off your gown and go into the showers and wash yourself. When you are finished, you may get dressed only in the clothing that I have provided for you here."

I was totally caught off guard by what my teacher just said. Take a shower? Here? Are we in gym class or something?

"When you have finished changing, I want you to meet me in the auxiliary gym next door. Do you understand?"

I nodded sheepishly. I was still a little too punch-drunk to fully comprehend what was about to happen.

"You have twenty minutes to shower and get dressed, Ciara. Be quick about it and report to me when you are finished. Do not waste any of my time, young lady."

Miss Treadway picked up that bag, still heavy with who knows what, and left me standing there alone. I stood in the locker room in my prom gown looking around, taking everything in and committing it to my punch impaired memory as best as I could. The fire engine red lockers stood out against gray and white tiles which were surprisingly pristine. I drew a deep breath and noticed the familiar strong odors of sweat and musty clothing mingling with chlorine, and I was reminded of the locker room at North Haskell. For a second or two, the pleasant association almost made me forget how awkward the present situation was. But then I remembered what Miss Treadway said to me about wasting time.

I knew just as well as her that we weren't supposed to be in here after hours. My mind revisited the events from the previous couple of hours when something suddenly occurred to me. Someone, either friend or associate, must have owed Miss Treadway a favor! Could that someone be one of those women at the church who said goodbye to Miss Treadway? How else could she have gotten access to the keys to the community center? What were her intentions for me tonight? I quickly found a toilet and used it before getting out of my clothes and entering the shower area. Even though I knew I was alone, it still felt very awkward. I wanted to hurry up and get dressed again as soon as possible.

I selected a shower head near the back, and did my best to adjust the temperature before stepping in. The shower head sent a spitting blast of hot water that felt good on my bare skin. I tried my best to relax and sober up as I rubbed soap from the wall dispenser all over my skin. I rubbed mounds of white suds over my shoulders, arms, smallish breasts, and flat stomach. I decided at the last minute to keep my hair pinned up in the shower, careful to keep as much of it as I could away from the spray.