Substitute Teacher

By Maria Zerva

Jane France's first job as a teacher is teaching a class of five former convicts in an evening school. Her first day at work results in a gangbang with four of the students; the fifth, a former junkie and literature aficionado, does not participate in the gangbang, but, takes Jane out after class for a drink, and they have sex in a back alley. Jane, who has just moved in with her boyfriend, begins to reevaluate everything about her life and - while her students continue finding ways to use and humiliate her in class - is forced to decide who she wants to be and where she wants to be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maria Zerva
• Release date: Jan 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463597392

Maria Zerva

A philosophy student at Athens University, who likes writing erotica stories in between studying Kant and Aristotle.I love writing about various kinks and themes, which means that each of my stories has something different to offer; I am writing a lot and I hope to publish more and more stories.Feedback, reviews, and comments are always welcome, as I love knowing what my readers like and what they don't.

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Substitute Teacher

Maria Zerva

Copyright 2019 Maria Zerva

Smashwords Edition

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Substitute Teacher

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Substitute Teacher

"Look, Ms. France—by the way, are you in any way related to Anatole…no? just a coincidence; oh, okay, I see…it’s just an unusual surname, that’s all…where was I? right, yes!—Ms. France, the most important thing you must remember is that the students want to learn, they want to improve themselves. The issue is that they’re…well, they can be a tad unruly. It’s no reason to worry. If they get too much to handle, there’s this little button right here, right on the underside of the desk; the moment you press it, I or Sam—the security guard—will come running.

There’s really nothing to worry about, though.

Uh-hum, she scowled and perused the small classroom. How many times did Mr. Hanson use the button?

Oh, Principal Jameson scratched his chin and raised his glance at the yellowing ceiling, only a couple of times, really…and that was only because…well, let’s just say he’s a bit of a racist, so…he takes offense to almost anything.

Right, she nodded, and her heart sank to her knotted stomach.

This was her first real job as a teacher; it had to be at an evening school for adults. After months of waiting for the coveted yes from an employer, she had been elated when she first received the call from the principal and was told they needed her. While he went on about the emergency button on the desk’s underside, her glee rapidly withered away.

So, are all the students of the class… she muttered but the principal was quick to interrupt:

Ex-convicts; yes, unfortunately. However, he added hastily, they’ve all paid for their crimes and are trying to learn new skills and be prepared to integrate back into society.

What crimes are we talking about?

Nothing too serious, he shrugged. "For most of them, it’s drugs. Selling or simply using. A couple of them were arrested for robbery…but, he added, injecting an emphatic tone into his voice, none of them has harmed anyone; we don’t have any murderers, rapists, or anything like that in the class. In case that was what you were trying to ask."

I imagine you understand why I’m a bit nervous, she rebuked.

Of course, yes, the principal tried to reassure her. Oh, by the way, he cleared his throat, you might want to reconsider your outfits when you teach…

Pardon me? She arched her eyebrow.

All I’m saying, he raised his open hands with an apologetic smile, is that tight-fitting skirts and unbuttoned shirts are not…well, you have to remember that these men have been in prison and are not exactly the type that go out and…at any rate, I’m simply suggesting that you…show some consideration to their unique situation.

Right, she glowered. I’ll remember it next time; it’s not like I have the time to go change now, do I?

I suppose you’re right, he shrugged after checking his watch. I’m sure it’ll be alright, he offered her a wide, non-reassuring smile.

He lumbered out of the classroom and she moved her gaze around the room once more; there was nothing extraordinary about it, just a couple of maps and charts hanging from the walls—that had too many cracks on them—but there was nothing amiss. Just a regular classroom in an underfunded evening school for adults.

She sat behind her desk and took two large books out of her purse; twenty minutes remained for the class to start and her heart already thundered behind her ear. It was her inaugural teaching assignment; of course, it would be riddled with difficulties and special circumstances. The sole thing that managed somewhat to comfort her was the thought that if she did an exceptional job there, it would bring more lucrative offers.

Whether she truly believed that this job would lead to more opportunities or not did not matter; she opened her cheap edition of Creeley’s collected poems, failing to concentrate enough to enjoy more than a couple of lines. Her mind quickly wandered back to Jerry, the apartment into which they had poured all their savings and onto which they had essentially staked their future…adulthood, real adulthood, had arrived too fast in her life and there were times she cherished it, while, at other times, she absolutely loathed it.

A blaring, demanding bell disrupted her thoughts and she sat up rigidly, straightening her shirt and buttoning it all the way up to her neck—do I look too prude, too strict? she asked herself and decided to unbutton the top button, only to reconsider it a second later, the principal’s seemingly innocuous remark having engendered fear in her pounding heart.

She was out of time to make any last-minute alterations to her attire as the first student clambered into the classroom—he was a rather short, but robust, young man with messy, long, blond hair, unkempt beard, and a rugged face wearing black, stained sweatpants and a worn-out leather jacket. He gave her an acknowledging smile, which appeared hungry and meaningful.

Soon, the rest of the students came—four more men, quite different in appearance (some were tall, some were bulky, one had long hair, another had a shaved head, a couple of them sported sleeve tattoos; there were three black men and two white). None of them would ever be called conventionally handsome—she strongly believed that they would look