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A Teacher's Affair (new)

Book By: J A Elliott

Nancy Perkins had a big shock when she returned back to England to start a new life as an Art Teacher at Badshot Lea Comprehensive in Hampshire. The school was completely different compared to ones she worked as a volunteer in Africa, the students were worse than baboons. But there is one pupil who changes her mind. She becomes extremely close to a 19 year old boy called Dillon Mitchell, eventually their feelings grow into a passionate relationship, but it proves very difficult as different situations arise. Will the pair stay together, or will other people destroy them?

Submitted:Mar 7, 2011    Reads: 183    Comments: 2    Likes: 2   

Chapter 3
"Mitch, Mitch," a man bellowed through the letter box.
Rubbing his eyes in a daze he could hear someone calling his name, but slumber made it difficult to focus why.
Slowly he prized himself out of bed. His alarm clock blinked 12:03A.M. red.
His TV was still on. He glared at it puzzled, was the news reader on the screen really taking about a bomb that exploded in some foreign country or was he calling his name? Had he finally lost the plot?
"Mitch, its Dan, your Dad's mate," sounded the voice again, followed by the sound of banging on the front door.
Realizing he was not dreaming he unsteadily got to his feet.
"Whoa! Whoa! You going to break the door down," he hollered back before undoing the several bolts, chains and locks that his father insisted on having.
"Mitch, it's your Dad, he's in trouble," said the middle aged balding man, who claimed to be Colin's friend but was actually one of his dealers.
"What did he do now?" Mitch yawned. His father was always getting into some sort of trouble, he was worse than any teenager that Mitch knew.
"He's having the shit kicked out of him!"
"That is not a surprise," Mitch yawned. "Where is he?"
Even though Mr. Mitchell was weedy, he was often in fights and always coming off the worse. Due to his fragile frame and small height he thought he had a lot to prove to any guy who was twice the size of him. You know what they say about short guys, but really Colin only became aggressive when everything started to go wrong in his life, the final straw was losing his job.
"Come on," Dan shouted already half way down the stairs.
They ran for about 3 miles into the next town. Mitch did not like to venture much here as it was full of squaddies who declared their balls were bigger than anyone else's.
They turned on to the street that was home to a rough night club - Coco's - and behind that down a dark alley was a seedy strip joint Coco's Girls.
With all of Mitch's rugby training he was fit and strong, whereas Dan was far from healthy.
"He, he, he," he heaved, breathlessly.
"He's in there?"Mitch finished the sentence for him by asking the question.
Dan nodded in response; he could no longer talk as he was bent over and wheezing, desperate for air. He managed to shakily point to an opening in the shadowed wall, guarded by two huge black bouncers, suited and booted in tuxedos as if it was Vegas. Above was red neon flashing sign 'CoCo's Girls.' It was how you would picture a typical strippers club, dark and uninviting.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, Mitch knew the place very well, he was not a regular, and he was under age, to be a punter there for this place you had to be 21, so really he should not be allowed on the premises, but he always had to drag his father out before he was pummelled to the ground.
The owner of the establishment was a 60 year old ex-show girl known as Coco, hence the name of the clubs. The flirtatious wrinkly sagging woman constantly tried to persuade Mitch into her boudoir, even before he turned 18, which was only 7 months ago, but that didn't't seem to matter to the mother of ten and even great grandmother to three. She was still unhappily married to Victor, who claimed to have saved his wife from corruption back when she was a performer in a Viennese theatre. Back in those days it had to be erotic art forms rather than throwing off your clothes for money.
Victor could not stand Coco's line of work, especially as he had to fund it from the money he made out of his photography company. He had hoped it would have been a passing phase, but the small venture had grown it into a big empire that she had built up herself.
Every time Mitch entered the building Coco somehow knew. It was like she would sniff out his deodorant. She would offer him alcoholic drinks and a chance to go into one of the private rooms with her, granny bashing was not Mitch's thing so he would politely decline and try to avoid her.
"Evening Dillon," the larger out of two bouncers acknowledged him.
"Mitch," he corrected.
He hated being called Dillon; it was the name his slag - of - a - mother had given him.
"You better get in there, Mitch, before your Pap's gets' barred," the other teased in his American accent.
Mitch wished that would happen then he would not get woken up in the middle of the night to save his fathers' ass. Of course the female pensioner would never bar her best customer, even if he was not the best behaved, but he was a regular and had a passion for her own brand of drugs. Coco found that the underworld of growing and dealing paid a lot more then what her husband could ever hope to achieve.
Mitch prized back the heavy red velvet curtains. Inside it was pitch black except for the dodgy spotlights misted by foggy smoke from cigarettes, and it reeked of sex. There were men of all sizes and ages surrounding one guy, who was currently trying to clamber up onto the stage. The other men were shouting and pushing the person crawling around drunk. He rolled over revealing his battered and bleeding face, as suspected it was Mr. Mitchell.
"Get up," a guy shouted kicking the fella in the stomach.
Clutching his abdomen, and spitting blood on to the beer stained grey carpet, he looked up barely able to see due to the swelling, though he had enough vision to recognize his sons disappointed face. His eyes pleading for help, fixed on his only son.
"Not again," Mitch sighed.
"Stop it, stop it," a girl could be heard shrieking.
She came into view by hurtling down the single runway from the Centre stage, jutting out in the middle of the room. Her heels were clearly too high as she tottled about as if on stilts.
"Stop it, leave him alone."
Colin reached up with a shaky hand. Unlucky for the woman she had gotten too close and her scantily glad gold sequined thong - not her choice - was now clasped in his fingers.
She screeched, desperately trying to hold up her dignity but the cheap tacky material snapped under the strain of being pulled in different directions. The sound of the underwear ripping lingered in her ears, Mitch's father fell face down onto the stage, his nose spurting red liquid but still clutching the garment.
Just at that moment Mitch dashed forward, through the gathering crowd, to save the day. To his shock when he reached his father he also had a close encounter with the pole dancers neatly trimmed dark pubic hair.
He froze, unable to look away, caught like a rabbit in the glare of head lights. It was clean, fresher then he'd expected a stripper's genital to be. He breathed in the smell of lavender, which he gathered was her shower gel. The cheesy disco ball hanging low from the ceiling reflected off a piece of metal slightly above his eye line, it forced him to pay attention to it. It was a ring, no bigger than his little finger nail, stapled through her clitoris making the soft nugget of pink flesh poke out from its confinement. Mitch could not take his eyes off of it; he'd seen a couple of pussies but no one like this.
He had always lied to his mates about apparently having slept with five girls, but in reality he had only recently lost his virginity on his eighteenth to the local slut of the school, Cassie Peters. It was not a pleasant experience. Cassie had literally pounced on him in the back of her Dad's Volvo estate. She had not bothered stripping off, just tore down her knickers from under her black mini skirt. Her vagina had smelt intoxicatingly bad, also she did not care about using a condom, but Mitch was being sensible and refused to go any further until he had rolled the thin rubber material down the length of his penis, which did not want to play he did not know if it was the pressure to perform or he just did not find the easy frizzy ginger haired girl sexually attractive, but somehow it managed to happen. He definitely regretted it. Afterwards Cassie had told every student at the school about them being an item, which was not true; Mitch did not want Cassie to be his girlfriend. Luckily she did not know he had been a virgin so that was his own little secret. Now that Mitch was being kept back another year at school Cassie did not want to know him, she had moved onto college boys.
This woman's undercarriage was beautifully sculptured. He's fingers were drawn to it, but he refrained from touching not just because it was against the rules to touch the strippers, but because he did not know where this 'ho had been.
Of course to him all strippers were whores and filthy, sleeping with anyone who pays them. He stereotyped all those kind of women as STI ridden prostitutes.
"Do you mind?" the woman shouted in an English sophisticated tone rather than a common slapper.

Mitch sprang back. To his astonishment the angry dancer, covering her privates with both hands, was someone he knew.


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