A Change In Perspective
           by Ann Douglas


        Alan Yeager sat at the hotel bar nursing his beer as most of the
men around him watched the ball game on the overhead television. 
The twenty-six-year-old really had no interest in the game, but had
come to the bar with a few new friends in order to be sociable.


        The dark-haired young man was a history teacher from East
Bedford.  Five nine with a slim, muscular build; this was his first
time at the State Teacher's Convention.  It was an experience he
had enjoyed immensely.


        The funny thing was, it was only because of an unforeseeable
series of events that he found himself here at all.  Normally, only
the most senior teacher at Dwight Eisenhower High got to attend
the annual convention.  Roger Parks, who was originally scheduled to
go, had come down with appendicitis the day before he was to
leave.  Elizabeth Young, who was the runner up in seniority had
already left with her family for a Disneyworld Vacation.  After a
frantic search by the school administration, there seemed to be
very few people who hadn't already made plans for the three-day
holiday weekend.  It finally came down to Alan and Diane Yee, both
of whom had started on the same day.  A toss of the coin decided
the issue, with Alan racing home to quickly pack a bag to catch the
eight o'clock shuttle flight.


        The three-day event had been quite interesting Alan had to
say.  Every school seemed to have a different way of picking
delegates to the conference. Some went by seniority like his own
school.  Others used it as a merit award.  Some even just held a
raffle.  Overall, the different systems made for an interesting mix
and a chance to meet fellow educators from across the state and
sort of compare notes.  There was also the prospect of some really
fine dining and the nightly parties that made attendance so highly
coveted.  Tonight was the last night of the conclave with nearly a
third of the participants having already left for home.


        Alan glanced down at his watch and decided that five more
minutes and he was out of here.  He really hadn't been that hungry
when most of the delegates had gone to dinner, but he was
starting to feel otherwise now.  The hotel dinning room was still
open for another hour so he should have no problem getting a table.


        "Excuse me,"  a woman's voice said from behind Alan, "but by
any chance would you happen to know the three major causes of
the Civil War?"


        The question took Alan by surprise.  Even for a Teacher's
Convention, that was a strange thing for someone to ask.  Not so
strange, however, that he didn't immediately know the answer. 
Back in high school, he had written his senior history paper on just
that subject.


        "That would've been..."  he started to say as he turned
around on the barstool.  "Oh my God!"  he suddenly said, cutting off
his answer as he saw who had asked the question.


        The owner of the question stood just a fraction of an inch
shorter than Alan.  She was wearing a modest blue dress that
enhanced rather than concealed a still respectable figure.


        "Hello Alan,"  the middle-aged woman standing behind him
smiled.


        "Mrs. Clarke," an excited Alan said, unsure if he should hug
the woman, shake her hand or something else.  "What are you doing
here?"


        "Well, I am still a teacher,"  the white-haired woman smiled,
"at least until the end of the month."


        "You're quitting?"  he asked, the tone of his question making
it one of disbelief.


        "Retiring actually,"  she smiled.


        "No, you can't be retiring," Alan said, "you're only..."


        "Fifty-two years old last month,"  Mrs. Clarke said, finishing
his question for him.


        "No,"  Alan replied, unable to believe that she was that old.


        "I was forty-four when I had you in my honors class in
history,"  she said.  "And that was eight years ago."


        Alan took a hard look at his former teacher.  In his mind,
Mrs. Clarke didn't look that much older than she did on his last day
of class.  There were a few more subtle lines in her face, but
that seemed to be all.  Even back then, except for her hair, she
really hadn't looked her age.  Her hair had turned prematurely
white in her mid-thirties.  Rather than dye it back to its original
shade, she had decided to keep it natural.


        In fact, Alan remembered quite well a discussion he and a
number and his friends had one night after they'd misappropriated
two six packs of beer from Jimmy Smith's garage cooler.  The
discussion had started off familiarly enough, a comparison of all
the girls in school they knew.  Who was the best looking; who had
the best tits, which they most wanted to fuck, that sort of thing. 
Eventually, and Alan never really decided if it was the beer or they
were all feeling a little bit daring, the discussion had grown to
include teachers as well.


        That aspect of their talk hadn't gone as far, but it had been
almost universally agreed that Mrs. Clarke was the third
best-looking teacher in school.  For an older woman, a few of his
friends had quickly added.  In Alan's case, he hadn't needed to add
that condition to his opinion.  The number one and two choices were
all new teachers in their early twenties. 


        "This wasn't a pop quiz, Alan,"  his former teacher laughed.
"You're not going to fail if you don't remember the answer."


        Alan realized that his face had become flustered at the
memory and was glad that she took it to be because he hadn't
remembered the answer.


        "Mrs. Clarke, I've totally forgotten my manners,"  Alan said,
changing the subject and feeling like he was back in third period
history.  "Please have a seat."


        "First of all, I think you're a little old to still be calling me
Mrs. Clarke,"  she said.  "My name is Maureen as I'm sure you
remember.  We are, after all, colleagues now."


        It seemed strange to Alan to think of himself and Mrs.
Clarke, no make that Maureen, as equals.  Yet, that was exactly
what they were.  He might have moved away after college and was
teaching in another town, but they were both doing the same thing.


        "Can I get you a drink,"  Alan asked, still thinking it strange
to be asking her a question like that. 


        "It's tempting," she replied,  "but I was actually on my way
for a late dinner.  I'd gotten involved in an interesting panel
discussion and lost all track of time."


        "That's funny but I was just about to go in to eat myself. 
I'd be honored if you joined me."


        "That would be nice," Maureen smiled. "It'll give us a chance
to catch up."




        As they ate, Alan quickly covered the eight years since he'd
sat in Maureen Clarke's class.  He'd gone, as she knew , to Fall
River College on a full academic scholarship.  It had been largely
due to her recommendation to the scholarship board that he had
managed to go to college at all. Alan was from a family that barely
made ends meet and money for higher education was not to be
found.  It would be a terrible waste, she had written to the board,
to let a mind so perfectly suited for teaching to lay fallow because
of a lack of funds.  The condition of the grant he had been
awarded was that he spend at least ten years after getting his
degree in the public school system somewhere in the state.  It was
a condition Alan had been more than happy to agree to. 


        Maureen Clarke had spent the last decade  pretty much as
she had the previous one, teaching honors history at Alexander
Hamilton High School in Woodbridge.  The only major change in her
life had been the death of her husband, George, two years before. 
That was one of the reasons she had decided to take the early
retirement that had been offered her. Her heart, she said, was no
longer really in it.


        "My mom had mentioned that the last time I was home for a
visit,"  Alan offered.  "I'm really sorry.  I only met him a few times
but I remember Mr. Clarke being a really nice guy."


        "Thank you,"  Maureen said, then changed the subject as not
to dwell too much on her greatly missed husband.  "But what about
you?  Is there a Mrs. Yeager, or someone in your life?"


        "I'm afraid not,"  Alan replied,  "at least not right now.  I
did fall in love with someone in college.  Her name was Yvonne and I
really thought she was the one.  But things didn't work out and we
wound up going our separate ways.  I date occasionally but there's
no one really special.  I guess I get so wrapped up in the kids
sometimes that I forget to have much of a life."


        "I can understand that,"  Maureen said, thinking of all the
unimaginable hours she had devoted to her own kids.


        "Sometimes, it is all worth it,"  Maureen assured her younger
counterpart. "Every once in a while, there's one or two students
who really capture your heart.  It means so much to watch them
strive to learn, and when they do, it gives your life a validation that
few people get to have."


        She paused a moment then added,  "That's the feeling I got
when I saw in the alumni notes that you had gotten your teaching
certificate.  I was so very proud when I read that."


        "I think your class was the reason I first thought about
becoming a teacher,"  Alan volunteered.  "You made learning such
an adventure.  I'm not sure I should mention this or not, but I had
such a crush on you as well."


        Maureen smiled.  She knew that many of her students over
the years had developed similar infatuations.  It wasn't something
she would ever admit to anyone but her husband, but she
sometimes got a secret thrill thinking that some of those good
looking young men might be jerking off to a mental image of her.


        "Well as I'm sure as you've learned by now, teachers aren't
supposed to even admit that they might have a crush on one of
their students,"  Maureen said.  "But I'm sure you knew how
special I thought you were."


        "I knew,"  Alan simply said. Then, thinking about some of the
quite improper thoughts he'd had about a few of his own female
students, Alan wondered if Maureen had ever had such thoughts
about the boys in her classes.  It wasn't exactly a question he
could just come out and ask.




        By the time they finished dinner and had a small dessert,
Alan was very surprised at how easily the flow of conversation had
become.  It no longer felt awkward talking to Maureen about
anything.  For the first time since they'd run into each other in the
bar, he actually felt that they really were equals. It came as a
surprise to the younger teacher that he and Maureen had rooms on
the same floor.  A surprise because it made it seem even funnier
that they hadn't run into each other before tonight.


        "Alan, would you like to stop by my room for a nightcap?"
Maureen asked as they stepped off the elevator.


        "Don't you have a roommate?"  Alan asked, knowing that
most of the delegates, himself included, shared a room.


        "She went home this afternoon,"  Maureen replied.  "She
came up by car and didn't want to get caught up in all the post
holiday traffic."


        "A nightcap sounds fine then,"  Alan finally answered.




        Over drinks, they talked for what seemed like the longest
time. It seemed to the former student that it was the first time in
a long time that his old teacher had opened up to anyone.  Finally,
Alan took note of the late hour and suggested that perhaps he
should call it a night and let Maureen get some sleep.


        He had just started to get up when Maureen motioned for
him to wait.  Uncertain, Alan sat there in silence for a few
moments.


        "Alan," the fifty-two year old said, a hesitation in her voice, 
"I was wondering if ... I mean to say this isn't something I normally
do.  But I was wondering if you wanted to spend the night here ...
with me?"


        Alan was too stunned to say a word.  A silence Maureen
quickly took to be a cold disapproval of what she had suggested.
"Alan, I'm sorry,"  she quickly said.  "I shouldn't have even
thought of such a thing.  I hope you won't let a moment's weakness
change the way you remember me."


        Alan looked into the face of the woman sitting across from
him. He didn't see a woman twice his age, or even his former
teacher.  All he saw was a friend who once cared enough about
him to take the time and effort to change his life.  A friend who
also a woman, a woman he still found desirable.


        "There is nothing, that you could ever say or do, that would
change the way I feel about you,"  Alan said as he took her hand in
his own.  "If you want me to stay, then of course I'll stay.  If
you just want me to hold you, then that's fine.  If you want more
than that, well that would be fine too."


        This time, Alan had no hesitation about what he should do.
Putting his arms around her, he embraced his friend with all of the
love he carried for her in his heart.




        Neither was really sure who made the first move after that. 
All they knew was that they were soon kissing each other.  Their
lips met with a fiery passion, their tongues darting in and out of
the other's mouth. Even through layers of clothing, Alan could feel
the crush of Maureen's breasts against his chest.  He reached up
and cupped one of her mounds, producing a soft cry of pleasure
from Maureen as his fingers softly squeezed her flesh.


        Maureen in turn reached down and pressed her own hand
between Alan's legs.  She smiled as her fingers found him already
hard.  Alan's reaction was no less than hers had been.


        "Help me with my dress,"  Maureen said as she stood up and
turned around so that Alan could reach her zipper. Alan pulled the
zipper all the way down and started to slide her dress off. 
Maureen placed a hand on his and stopped him.  She stepped a few
feet away and turned around.  It became obvious to Alan that she
wanted to strip for him.




        Completing what the younger man had started, the white
haired woman slid her dress to the floor, leaving her clad in bra,
panties and stockings.  It was a source of pride to her that despite
a small weight gain in her later years, she still never wore a girdle.
No one was ever going to ask her to pose for a magazine, but she
was in much better shape than most of her friends.


        "Tell me the truth, Alan," she said as reached behind and
undid the clasp of her bra. "When you were in my class, did you
ever think about something like this, I mean seeing me without my
clothes."


        Knowing that it was exactly what she wanted to hear right
now, Alan told her of the informal poll he and his friends once took.
He could tell she was impressed on where she had ranked on the
survey.


        "If I had taken my own survey,"  she said as her bra came
off, "you would've been on the top.  I guess it can't hurt for me to
say it now, but more than a few times I thought of you when I was
in bed with my husband.  Imagining that it was you inside of me
instead of him."


        That answered Alan's earlier curiosity.  He wondered what
was more frequent that year he'd been in her class.  The times she
imagined her husband was him, or the times he'd jerked off
imagining it was her mouth wrapped around his cock instead of his
fingers.




        Alan watched fascinated as Maureen rubbed her breasts,
her fingers pressing against the hard nipples that just a glimpse of
through her blouse was enough to give teenage boys an
erection. A lifetime of trying to stay in reasonable shape had left
the fifty-two year old with a bust only slightly affected by time
and gravity.


        Maureen's hands continued downward and she lifted her leg
onto the seat of the nearby desk chair.  Undoing the clasps of her
garter belt, she slowly slipped her stocking down the length of her
leg.  An action she then repeated on her other leg.  Her husband
had always preferred stockings to pantyhose and she never saw any
reason to change after he was gone.  From the way Alan's eyes
were following her every motion, it was obvious to her that he was
glad she hadn't.


        Finally it was her panties turn and once they were gone, Alan
could see that the hair between Maureen's legs was a mixture of
the original brown, white and gray.  What there was of it had been
carefully trimmed into a small, soft mound.


        "I hope that wasn't too disappointing,"  Maureen said as she
stuck a pose to finish her erotic ballet.


        "Hardly,"  Alan replied, thinking that he'd found Maureen's
little performance more enticing than any his last girlfriend had
done. If Maureen had any doubt as to the sincerity of his answer,
the straining bulge in his pants added to its validity.


        The tent pole between his legs hadn't gone unnoticed.  Now
totally nude, Maureen quickly crossed the room and knelt down in
front of a still sitting Alan.  With a frantic eagerness, she worked
the belt of his pants, then its clasp and zipper.  


        In less time that it took for Alan to think about it, Maureen
had his bare cock cradled in her hands. In her life, Maureen Clarke
had held just five other cocks as she now held Alan's. One had
been her husband's of course. Before him there had been three
others with who she'd been that intimate, one had been in high
school and one in college.  The third had been the man she was
dating when she met her husband to be.


        The last had belonged to a man she had met in a local bar
when she was forty-five.  It had been her first, and previous to
this, only sexual adventure.  She and George had been having
problems with their marriage during that time, the result of an
indiscretion on his part during an office Christmas party.  In her
anger, she had felt that evening the score would make her feel
better.  It had hardly done that, leaving her with an empty and
guilty feeling.  Thankfully, they later worked things out, sharing
happier days until the end.


        No sense of guilt filled her now as she ran her fingers up and
down Alan's shaft.  It was an average cock as cocks go, she
thought, about six inches and just thick enough for her to close
her fingers around it.  Not that Maureen took a great deal of time
to ponder how it looked before she tilted her head forward and
slipped it between her lips. 


        The mere thought that the stuff of teenage masturbation
fantasies had just become hard reality was almost enough to cause
Alan to shoot his load the moment he felt Maureen's mouth around
his cock.  It took all of his self-control not to let that happen, but
within half a minute he knew it was a losing battle.  Maureen
could've been the worst cocksucker in the world, which she
certainly wasn't, and still bring the younger man to the brink
within minutes.


        With both her hands wrapped tightly around the base of his
cock, Maureen's head bobbed up and down with lust driven
intensity.  Alan was sure that each downward thrust was going to
cause him to explode.  Finally he did just that, sending a week's
worth of come into his old teacher's mouth.


        "Oh shit!"  Alan gasped as he felt himself draining.  He
wasn't sure what was more exciting. The feeling of release
spreading through his body or the image of Maureen Clarke still
sliding his pulsating cock in and out of her mouth, sucking down his
whiteness as fast as it shot into her.




        Finally he had no more to give and Maureen released her
lockjaw hold on his manhood, letting it slip from her mouth.  She
rose and sat on the bed next to Alan, a broad grin filling her face.


        "You have a little ... er smudge on the corner of your mouth,"
Alan said as he illustrated on his own face where a spot of white
still remained on hers.


        Maureen wiped it clean with a sweep of her index finger. 
She looked at the shiny residue for a brief second, then stuck her
finger in her mouth, sucking it clean as well.


        "It's been a while since I've done that,"  Maureen said.  "I
hope it was good enough."


        "You won't get any complaint from me,"  Alan grinned, still
basking in the euphoria of a fantasy come true.


        "When I was married, I was never really sure if I did that
well, or if my husband was too much of a gentlemen to tell me I
sucked,"  she said.  "No pun intended there,"  she added with a
laugh.


        "Well I don't know how much of a gentlemen I consider
myself," Alan answered, "but you definitely don't suck.  Unless it’s
to say that you suck great!"


        "I do seem to have killed it, haven't I?"  Maureen said as she
looked down on his now totally deflated manhood.


        "Don't worry, it usually doesn't stay dead for long,"  Alan
said reassuringly.


        "That's good to know,"  said the white-haired teacher,
"because giving it mouth to mouth is what caused the problem in
the first place."


        Alan laughed again, remembering that Mrs. Clarke always
had a sharp sense of humor.  Of course back in school he never
would've imagined her making jokes about something like this.


        "Still, it does seem determined to rest a while,"  she went
on. "Any suggestions what we can do to pass the time until it wants
to get up and play again?"


        "Oh I'm sure I can come up with an idea or two,"  he
retorted.  "I used to have a teacher back in high school who felt
that I was a pretty  imaginative kind of guy."


        "Really now,"  she laughed.  "Well I've never been impressed
by old references.  I guess you'll have to show me and let me make
my own evaluation."




        Alan wasted no time is making his case.  What remained of
his clothes came off with a dizzying speed, winding up scattered
across the room wherever his toss carried them.  Now as
naked as Maureen, he climbed on top of her and pressed their
bodies together.  He kissed her hard enough to sample the
aftertaste of his ejaculation in her mouth.  Alan knew that some of
his friends grossed out if something like that happened, but he had
never understood the fuss.  After all, it wasn't like it was some
other guy you were getting a taste of.  It would be a fine thing if a
woman would give you a blowjob but you wouldn't kiss her
afterwards.


        Alan kissed Maureen on the mouth a few more times as his
hands explored her body.  As his kisses moved down to her breasts,
one hand reached between her legs and came to rest on her now
wet mound.  His fingers made their way within her and as his mouth
closed on her nipples, his nimble fingers began to slide in and out.


        "Oh yes,"  Maureen moaned loudly as the dual pleasures
spread across her body.  "It feels so good.  I've missed this so very
much."


        With one of her nipples buried deep in his mouth, Alan
redoubled his penetrations of her pussy, quickly adding a third
finger to his effort.  He could feel the effect on the body beneath
him as it began to gyrate in time to his manipulations.  Her breasts
tasted sweet in his mouth, a treat long imagined.


        In the back of his mind, Alan could see himself as a
seventeen year old again, his sheets pulled up across his chest to
conceal his cock play.  The image that filled his mind on many of
those nights had been the body that now lay nude and open
beneath him.


        Reluctantly abandoning her soft breasts, Alan continued to
kiss his way down her body.  Reaching the moist spot that shielded
her womanhood, he pulled out his fingers and replaced them with
his tongue.  The effect on Maureen was instantaneous and loud as
she responded to the wet assault on her clit with a loud passionate
wail.


        As pleasing as Alan's skill at cunnilingus quickly proved itself
to be, it had not been part of those youthful fantasies.  Back in
high school, the thought of actually going down on a woman seemed
the most repugnant of prospects.  It took his great college love to
show Alan the error of that belief.  A lesson he'd taken to heart
as greatly as any he'd learned in Mrs. Clarke's history course.


        "Oh yes, oh God yes!"  Maureen called out as Alan buried his
face deep between her legs, putting all he had into the rising fever
consuming her body. "More, please don't stop!"


        Then, to Maureen's dismay a short time later, Alan did just
that.  It took a long moment for that fact to register on her, so
lost was she in the throes of passion.  She lifted her head and
looked down at her lover.  He was no longer between her legs, but
rather now standing up alongside the bed.  Her gaze shifted from
the silly smile on his face to a spot between his own legs.  What
she saw there made her disappointment fade like morning dew. 
The dead had risen yet again.




        Climbing back on to the bed, Alan lifted and spread
Maureen's legs.  He reached down with his left hand and took hold
of his resurgent manhood, guiding it to the now saturated entrance
to Maureen's delights.  With a loving caution, he eased himself
inside of her, gently rocking back and forth as he did.


        Maureen reached up and put her hands on his back, pulling
him deeper within her.  Once he was as far inside as was humanly
possible, she brought her legs around as well, wrapping them
around his ass.  Holding him tightly, she also began to rock, adding
her own motions to their joining.


        The clock on the wall ticked on as their cascading motions
grew both in force and repetition.  In no time at all, their bodies
became one as each drew satisfaction from the other.  A sense of
deep gratification that was driven more by a desire to please the
other than to be pleased in turn.  Of course in doing so they
accomplished both objectives. 


        Words quickly became impossible, giving way to muffled
grunts as both damp and sweat covered bodies crashed against
each other time and again.  The level of energy generated between
them grew and grew until it was no longer possible to physically
contain.  At that point, both bodies simply exploded in an orgasmic
burst that shuddered through each of them.  As tightly
intertwined as they were, it was impossible for them not to
experience the shattering climax of the other.  A sharing that
resounded back upon itself, producing ever-increasing tides of
ecstasy.


        They held each other tight until there was no more strength
in either of them to do so.  Reluctantly, they released the other as
the ripples of passion finally began to subside. 


        Too tired to even think about moving for a while, they lay
next to each other.  The softness and warmth of sticky flesh still
binding them in the aftermath of their joining.            




        "I can't believe we actually did this,"  Maureen said after
what seemed an indeterminable silence.  "I can't believe I actually
lived out a fantasy like that."


        "It wasn't only your fantasy,"  Alan smiled back at her.


        "No, I guess not,"  Maureen agreed as she absentmindedly
ran her fingers over Alan's spent cock.


        "Do you regret it?"  Alan asked.


        "I should feel otherwise, but no I don't," the older teacher
laughed.


        "Not at all?" he asked.


        Her grin repeated her answer.


        "Well neither do I,"  Alan added.


        "Although,"  she said after a brief moment's reflection, "I
think it's probably a good thing now that I'm retiring. Because
after tonight, I don't think I could ever look at my students in
quite the same way again."


        The laughter that followed was long and hearty.


        "My roommate is probably wondering what happened to me,"
Alan said as he thought about how long the quick nightcap had
lasted.


        "Don't worry,"  Maureen said as she pressed her naked body
against his. "The way things sometimes go at these conventions,
he probably figured you just got lucky last night."


        Alan thought about that for a few heartbeats, then said, "I
think I got lucky eight years ago.  But it wasn't until last night
that I realized just how much."


        "Speaking of lucky,"  the veteran history teacher said as she
brought her mouth closer to his, "how do you feel about pressing
your luck one more time?"


        As their lips met, they both that time had finally made
caught up with them and made them equals.  Whatever followed
the dawn, they would never think of each other in the same way
again.


END


 (c) Ann Douglas 2000

   
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