Obsession Part 1
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The classroom door opened. Late, Dennis Hobson thought, as he looked over the rim of his glasses, curious to see who it was. The girl who came in was a child he had never seen before though. The new girl, it must be her. What was her name again? Amanda Stanton? No, Esmeralda Stanton, but spelled differently, in two parts, Es Meralda. Who would give their child a name like that?
All this going through his head in the two seconds it took for the eight-year-old to come through the door. She was followed by an adult, a young woman with long blonde hair who took off her sunglasses and looked at him from across the room. The moment Dennis Hobson saw her steely blue eyes he knew he had seen her before. That was not all he knew though. He also knew where and when he’d seen her and why he felt scared all of a sudden.
It was three months ago on the train from Manchester to York. He had been on his way home from the teachers’ convention that he had expected so much of, but turned out to be quite tedious and disappointing. He recalled how he had run across the platform, hurrying to catch the train, even though there would be another one fifteen minutes later. It was just that he had been so eager to get out of the city and go back home to his loving wife Margaret and the school in their village where the children were still well-behaved. After hearing so many horror stories from colleagues at the convention he had felt like the luckiest man alive to be working in a small village where, unlike in the cities, everybody still knew each other and respect was at the core of every interaction.
So he had made the 17h17 train to York, where his car was parked. From there it was still a long drive up into the Yorkshire Dales. Main roads at first, but then winding country lanes. A pretty landscape and his car had a good sound system too, so he usually enjoyed the drive, passing through valleys and quaint villages while listening to chamber music or cantatas by Johann Sebastian Bach. First there was the train ride to York though, with stops in cities like Leeds and Huddersfield. He had been reading Oliver Twist again, so he had planned to focus on his book in order to keep the crowd on the train at a distance.
It had rained that day, he recalled now. Grey, miserable weather that had reminded him of November, but the trees had leaves and there were flowers in the gardens of the houses that they passed. He hadn’t looked out of the window much though and he had also hardly opened his book. No, what happened, he had walked through the aisle, looking for an empty seat and when he had found one he had got busy with his coat and bag that he had stowed above his head. It was only then that he had noticed the woman, this woman who was now in his classroom.
Back in May, on the train, she had sat opposite of him, looking at her phone like everybody else. Thirty years old perhaps, with long blonde hair. She had glanced up at him and given him a look of disapproval with those steely, blue eyes. Arrogant and easily annoyed by everything around her. He remembered thinking how he missed the old days when people still talked to one another on the train. Nowadays you couldn’t even smile at your neighbor anymore or he or she would be suspicious and offended.
As the train had left Manchester Victoria he glanced at the woman again and imagined describing her to his wife Margaret, starting out with the way she was dressed. Take the leopard print blouse, he would say to Margaret, could it be more tacky? When had those got back in fashion? And what about her nails? So long and bright red, what was that good for? Margaret would shake her head and agree with him. Thirty years of marriage and they were still on the same page about almost everything.
The young woman had a long coat draped over her knees, but he could see her shoes and ankles. She was wearing high heels so he said to Margaret: ‘Could you imagine that? Wearing those in the Dales?’
And Margaret would say: ‘Go hiking in them and stumble into the pub afterwards. Everybody staring.’
He had smiled at the thought, but just then the woman had looked at him and raised her eyebrows. Still not friendly at all. It had given him an odd feeling, as if she had caught him looking at her shoes and had scolded him. He had felt the blood rush to his cheeks and had looked out the window until they arrived in Huddersfield. Well, had he really though? No, he was thinking now, mostly he had continued to study the woman in the reflection of the window. The thing was, she was pretty and could even be beautiful if she would dress differently. Get rid of those nails and heels, remove the make-up, wear different clothes and most of all, smile instead of look so surly.
The man sitting next to the woman got off the train in Huddersfield. When no one took his seat the woman had put her coat there and that’s when he got a first good look at her legs. She was wearing a miniskirt, he saw now. God, so tacky too. A leopard print blouse, high heels and a black miniskirt. What would Margaret say about this? He had trouble imagining it now, because his eyes seemed somehow glued to the woman’s legs. They were long and looked beautiful, he had to admit. Shapely calves and full, long thighs. She was wearing nylons too, sheer ones and hardly visible even though her legs were on full display and just a few feet away from him.
In his mind he said to Margaret, what do you think? Is it decent to show off your legs like this? And Margaret would chuckle and say that he seemed to rather like them, especially because she was wearing nylons. His wife referring to his teenage crush on aunt Betsy and her stockings. He had once told her about it, maybe twenty years ago, but she still liked to tease him with it. He had been thinking about all this when a voice had interrupted his thoughts.
‘Excuse me, sir.’ And then again, more insisting: ‘Excuse me!’
It had taken him a moment to realize that it was the woman’s voice and that she was talking to him. He had looked up then, straight into her blue eyes and that’s when she had said: ‘You’re staring at my legs. Would you mind?’
Other passengers had looked at him too, some of them sniggering. He had blushed and stammered an apology and in a matter of seconds a sweat had broken out on his forehead. It had been deeply embarrassing, the way he had gone from making fun of her in his mind to being humiliated by her in public. He had apologized and stared out the window, this time for real, and in Leeds he had got off the train. While he had waited for the next one he had a drink to calm his nerves and repeatedly told himself it was over now. To the people on the train he had been just another middle-aged man in a raincoat. Perhaps some of them would tell their loved ones about the incident, probably have a good laugh about it too, but tomorrow not one of them would even recognize him. As for the people who did know him, the people in the village, they were hours away, up north in the valley. They would never find out about this.
That’s what he had thought back then, but now she was here in his classroom with a little girl by her side. She introduced herself, saying: ‘Hi, I’m Natalie Stanton and this is Es Meralda.’
She doesn’t remember, Dennis thought, and the sense of relief that washed over him was overwhelming. He cleared his throat and told her his name. The woman smiled and seemed nice enough now. Briefly he wondered if he was mistaken. Perhaps it hadn’t been her after all, but no, she began to tell him that they had moved to the village this summer. They had lived in York, she said, but she’d had to go to Manchester for work quite a lot. Then she’d had a lucky break and found a job and a house here.
She explained that her uncle owned the real estate agency behind the church. Business was booming and he had asked her to become his partner. Dennis had seen the office. The other day he walked past it. The fact that business was booming was because of the new road that was changing their village so much. Before they had been isolated and among themselves, now the closest town was less than half an hour away. Outsiders were moving to their village these days, saying it was traditional and authentic and an easy drive to their office in town. This woman Natalie didn’t need to commute though. She was renting the cottage on Bakery Lane, she said, and had moved in just a couple of days ago.
Dennis’s heart sank a little deeper. That used to be Mrs. Scott’s house and it was right behind theirs, which meant that Margaret would undoubtedly meet this woman too. This was going to cause trouble, he could feel it in his bones. The only good thing was that the woman didn’t remember him. He was pretty sure of that now.
They shifted their attention to Es Meralda who wasn’t shy at all. She had already been talking to little Steven Butcher and was now pulling a toy out of his hands. Steven tried to take it back but the girl pushed him away. Both of them looked at the adults then.
‘Es Meralda is new here,’ the woman said before Dennis could get a word in. ‘Why don’t you let her play with it for a while?’
Now Steven Butcher was looking at Dennis who felt lost for words. What should he do? Normally he wouldn’t hesitate to overrule the woman. This was his classroom and in here the children abided by his rules. There was no doubt in his mind that the little girl needed to be set straight. New or not, she couldn’t come in here and just take a toy from another child. So why didn’t he say something? Why did it feel as if he were paralyzed? He looked at the woman, saw that the expression in her blue eyes had hardened now. It reminded him of the look she had given him on the train. A chill went through his spine and feeling utterly disgusted with himself, he turned to little Steven Butcher and told him to go look for another toy.
TO BE CONTINUED....
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You really need to read “Obsession,” the first part to this story, first. Tina came down for breakfast about ten looking like she had woken from a hundred year sleep and was immediately hugged by Jessica. She smiled and mumbled a good morning, which I responded to with a polite nod. Jess and Tina went to the lounge, talking at some length about Richard, while I served fresh croissants and coffee. I chose to withdraw to the garden to give the two women some space. I guess my love making to Tina...
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The obsession with this woman is incurable. She is a widow and had been a widow for 14 years before the night of August 25, 2004. She is very attractive and a little plump but she does not have one line or wrinkle. She is 5'6" tall with matronly 38 D cup tits that look like the heads of twin rockets when she wears a bra. Her legs are shapely and her short hair is a beautiful salt and pepper. She was 54 years old and I was 21 that night in 2004. That was the night that I could not control...
The obsession with this woman is incurable. She is a widow and had been a widow for 14 years before the night of August 25, 2004. She is very attractive and a little plump but she does not have one line or wrinkle. She is 5'6" tall with matronly 38 D cup tits that look like the heads of twin rockets when she wears a bra. Her legs are shapely and her short hair is a beautiful salt and pepper. She was 54 years old and I was 21 that night in 2004. That was the night that I could not control...
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My Wonderful Obsession Part 24: One Last Hike Mark and I were taking full advantage of his Corolla's air conditioning system as we sped south on I-75 between Cincinnati and Lexington. Okay, so it wasn't what you'd normally call AC - after all, his little car didn't come with that option in the first place. He called it four- seventy air conditioning - meaning all four windows down at seventy miles an hour. 'If I still had my long hair,' I mused, 'it'd be in a million knots by...
My Wonderful Obsession Part 29: The Big Break-Up The following morning we all shared a quick cold breakfast and were out of the condo by nine. Our plane was due to leave around one that afternoon and Mr. M said he wanted to leave lots of time in case the roads were bad. Thankfully, there were only a few icy patches and even the flight home wasn't too frosty - Mark, Megan and I had a row of three seats and we let her sit by the window while Mark and I just read our magazines the whole...
My Wonderful Obsession Part 35: Shocking News I case you'd hadn't already figured it out for yourself, that spring of 1999 was the absolute craziest time of my young life. Where do I start? Well, there were all the scheduled activities like school and work, doctor visits, voice training and dance lessons, and there were also important responsibilities to juggle, like housework, Mom's accounting, and looking after myself with proper diet and exercise ... and at the same time I had a...
My Wonderful Obsession Part 38: The Wedding Crasher Just as high school was winding down, preparations for the big wedding were winding up - Phil and Natalie's big day was now only a month away, and with Natalie's penchant for organization, everything was falling neatly into place. I'd done my first dress fitting and the second and final one was on the last day of June. Natalie's friend Keri, who was also one of the bridesmaids, met me at the shop so we could both do our fitting at...
Obsession I can still remember the first time. A cousin who lived close was visiting when he whispered that his older brother had magazines with pictures of naked women in them. As I had never seen a naked women, I was curious, but I scoffed, so he snuck them over. Sure enough, some of the women were naked, although some were wearing stockings or heels. But even as I have said I hadn't seen a naked woman before, I could see that these had something different about...
Dangerous Obsession Chapter One: I wanted her life! Staring at her on the latest Social Media Application, all I could think about was how amazing it must be to be her. Now! I realize that no one's life is perfect however from all her internet post she portrayed the life of perfection! At 29 years old, married, and due to gastric bypass surgery had lost a lot of weight, she looked on top of the world. Blonde hair perfectly styled, incredible makeup, one would think she could grace...
As I closed the front door, shutting out the rest of the world, the silence became absolute, broken only by my soft footfalls and the suddenly loud thump thump thump of my heart. I looked around the empty living room nervously, wondering where he was, my eyes drawn towards the hallway and, beyond that, the door to the basement where Craig most likely waited, his presence drawing me like a moth to flame. Ours was a strange relationship, dangerous even, maybe even unhealthy. For one thing, love...
BDSMThe following morning George and I followed our usual morning routine, gym followed by lattes and scones at one of the many coffee shops in our neighborhood. I started our conversation. “Last night was a thrill for me. I can’t deny that I was totally in lust with Gregory. I know that you are not the jealous type but I want you to know that I love you very much and I am not looking for a George replacement. But I also have to be honest about my feelings and they were really strong for...
M led J to the bed and gently pushed him down to a seated position. “Dude…this is crazy!! What are you doing?” J asked. “I am about to blow your brains out, get ready…”M popped a video into the VCR; a four hour epic of lesbian love. It depicted nothing but gorgeous busty women licking and sucking their lovers. Each scene started slow but reached a crescendo with the women sucking and fucking their partners to amazing orgasms. Something about lesbians appealed to both M and J, they loved the...