Teaching Teacher, page 1
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Deadra, for all her help and for having faith in me.
And in memory of the late Doris O’Connor, who I can hear telling me just to get on with it.
Editor: Deadra Krieger
Cover Artist: Brantwijn Serrah
Proofer: Megan Grace
Copyright © 2024 Bastet’s Quill Publishing
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, or events portrayed in this work are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons—living or dead—is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Chapter One
"Yo, Teach! Don't do it. You'll become a bum fucker. Come out with us. We'll give you a good time." The teenage girls' platform sandals clacked on the cobblestones as they laughed, waving as they ran past.
Sebastian Keo turned to see some—he presumed—of his senior pupils disappear into the distance. His stomach churned. Was this what he had to look forward to when his sexual preference became well-known?
Unfortunately, being new to the school, he hadn't been able to recognize who the speakers were. If he had recognized them, he’d be having words with them, along the lines of discrimination and bringing the school's name into disrepute. Seb had no intention of overlooking that sort of ignorant behavior. As it was, he held a strong suspicion that his next school assembly would feature those points heavily.
Hopefully, he was going to have a good time here. He wouldn’t let a few silly schoolgirls change his mind about that. Seb had only lived in this tiny Scottish town for a few weeks. Just enough time to settle in before term started, and then it had been full-on "I'm your new dominie." The name had intrigued him before he'd learned it was another name for a head teacher.
After being appointed at the very young age of thirty-two, he'd searched for his dream home and found it. Only a mile out of town, it was originally a tiny bothy or farmhand's croft. The previous owners sympathetically improved the place to have two bedrooms, each en suite, plus a lounge, dining room, study, and kitchen. Seb fell in love with it at first sight. Everything about it filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction. Now, if only he could fall in love with a real live person as well with as an inanimate object, life would be a hell of a lot better. Seb missed the warm, welcoming emotions experienced when a person had a loving partner in their life.
Yeah, I'm wishing for the moon here, if those kids are anything to go by. It seems like it's not going to be easy to even meet someone as a friend, let alone anything else. Ah well, let's hope I at least get a good pint.
So here he was, two weeks of the school term over and about to have his first night out in his new hometown. He wouldn't have even realized a pub for gays existed if he hadn't heard one of his pupils boasting about her brother's pub. "He's bent, but hey, live and let live," she'd said. "If he gets everyone gay to go to the Jolly Roger, then gotta be better for us. We won't make the mistake of coming on to someone who doesn't see us like that."
Her friend had shushed her as he walked past. Not, he realized, because she thought he was gay, but because of what had been said. Seb had continued on his way, shaking his head and making her blush when he'd responded mildly, "Live and let live, Stacy. There but the grace of God."
Now, he hesitated, standing by the door, with his heartbeat erratic. Go in or go home? Resolutely he opened the door. He was not a coward or ashamed of his sexuality. He was what he was and comfortable with it.
The smell of beer and bodies hit him, along with an unexpected blast of noise. Taken aback, he stopped momentarily before love and laughter enveloped him. The atmosphere gave him all the encouragement he needed to take the next step.
The band playing loudly at the back of the room wasn't just loud; they were also out of tune. A few couples were dancing, even though there was no dance floor. They used the tiny floor space between the band and tables.
The guy next to Seb cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.
“Get a voice, man; pull your kecks up.”
“Go back tae the day job.”
The good-natured heckling they gave the band tickled Seb, as did the way it was taken in the joking manner obviously expected.
Whistles and foot-stomping and shouts of "Away back ta bed," and "You sound like a cat with a sore throat," mixed with laughter and cat-calls.
Seb realised the band was giving back as good as they got.
The violinist made his instrument screech and shouted, "You're all tone deaf."
The guitarist added his mite. "You don't know good music," and "Away and bile yer heid."
The latter made Seb chuckle. He'd had to look that up in his dictionary of Scottish slang. He still wasn't sure what "go and boil your head" really meant.
Seb smiled as his heartbeat returned to normal. So far, so good.
His spirits lifted as a friendly hello was sent his way from the most drop-dead gorgeous man he had ever seen. Blood pooled in his groin, and his cock perked up as his body responded to the admiration he fancied he saw in the man’s eyes. The man stood behind the bar, expertly pulling a pint. His long, elegant fingers curled around the glass in a way Seb imagined they would curl around something much more intimate. He looked tall, with dark red hair that curled just over his collar. As he turned and spoke to a customer, a glint of metal flashed in his mouth. Fuck, a stud in his tongue. Seb could just imagine the sensations that stud would cause as it moved up and down his cock. Oh shit! One of my wet dreams. There could be a big mistake about to happen. He willed his prick to behave and not strain his denims as he walked across the room, dodging between customers and tables until he reached the bar. He smiled at the barman, hoping he wasn't about to get his face kicked in.
He didn't. The drop-dead gorgeous guy smiled back.
"Hey, what can I get you?"
Wow! The deep voice with its distinctive Scottish burr washed over him like liquid chocolate. How could he answer that and stay legal?
"A pint of Real Ale please," Seb answered. Bor-ng. Can't I do better than that? All witty repartee left his mind. "The Red-something one, please." That was innocuous enough, wasn't it?
Evidently it wasn't, because the barman laughed.
"I'm Ruari McGregor, known as Red. I'm damn sure I don't have a pint in me. But you're welcome to try."
"Seb Keo."
He held his hand out to have it shaken firmly. He believed one could tell a person's character by their handshake. A limp, damp hand was enough to put him off a person straightaway. This handshake felt promising. His hand was taken in a solid grip, with no bone-crunching macho posturing or one-upmanship; just a short decisive shake.
"Oh ho."
Ruari looked at him. The admiration in his eyes made Seb blush.
Hell, I haven't blushed since Tommy Coleman tried to kiss me in the showers at school.
"The new dominie, eh?" Ruari paused and winked.
Seb's pulse jumped. How could one wink make him decide all his Christmases had come at once? Should he wink back? He compromised by smiling and nodding.
"You, er, do know what type of people drink in here?" Ruari asked. He passed Seb a glass full to the brim with ale.
Seb grinned and nodded. "My type."
He took a cautious sip of the liquid. Its nutty aroma tickled his nose, and he savored the smooth, bitter taste as it slid easily down his throat.
"Well now. That's a blessing for me. And a sad thing for my sister and her friends. Stacy McGregor. Senior six. Tall, dark hair," Ruari said. "She and her mates think you are, and I'm quoting here, although I do agree with the sentiments, 'a bit of a dish.'"
He laughed. Seb realized he must look as astonished as Ruari did. Him, a pin up? That was a turn up for the books. The glow of smug satisfaction spread though him.
"Yeah, well," Ruari said. "I have a habit of telling it like it is. You in a relationship?" Ruari's words did nothing to dissipate it.
Seb shook his head, hardly believing his ears. This sex-on-legs man thought he was a bit of a dish? He felt as if he'd won the lottery. "Are you?"
Ruari copied his action. "Nope. Well, I wasn't, but things are looking up, I hope." He smiled and raised an eyebrow.
Seb blushed. He couldn't help it. "Ah, well." He spluttered, and then chuckled. "I always say all things come to those who wait, and hell, I sure have waited long enough."
"Nice one. Look, I'm due a break. Okay if I spend it with you?" Ruari asked.
The question knocked Seb for six. He nodded his agreement. Things were definitely looking up.
"Great," Ruari said. "Hey, Dan," he called to the other barman. "I'm taking ten. I'll be in the snug if you need me."
Dan waved his acknowledgement and carried on pulling pints at a dizzying speed.
Seb watched as Ruari grabbed a glass full of what looked like cola and lifted the bar flap to join him. Ruari gestured with his free hand. "If we go along there, there's a wee lounge where we can get away from the alleged music. I'm not sure that's what it is, but hey, the punters like them!" He rolled his eyes. A group at the table they passed gave Seb the once over.
"Ooh." A small, effeminate looking man spoke. "Trust our Red to see you before anyone else."
Ruari smiled briefly and walked past with a succinct, "Sorry, can't stop. Only got a short break."
Seb shook his head as he sat down. "Can't say I did."
"Thank God. You know, if I'm honest I'm not even sure Damien is gay. Just likes to think he is. I bet if Steve or Dave over there came on to him, he'd run a mile." He nodded toward the other table where a couple sat chatting, half-full glasses in front of them.
Seb laughed out loud. "Well, even in the interests of experimentation, I'll pass on that if you don't mind."
"I'd mind if you didn't," Ruari said. "We tend to try to ignore him. After all, we're saying people should be more accepting and practice live and let live. So, we have to do as we preach. Mind you… Well, let's say if someone met him in a dark alley, and as long as we had watertight alibis, I don't think there would be one of us really sorry if someone showed him the error of his ways." He rolled his eyes, and raised his eyebrows to show it was a joke. "Yeah, okay. I don't mean that, and it's a crap attitude, but most of the time so is his." He took a gulp of his soft drink.
Seb watched him swallow with a dry mouth. Ruari's action was beautiful; it made Seb salivate, and his body tightened.
Hell man. You've got it bad if a bloody swallow gets you hard.
"Him apart, we're a friendly get-along-with-people bunch in here," Ruari said. Thankfully he seemed oblivious to Seb's state of mind and body. He looked at his watch. "Shit. Look, sorry. I need to get back. The cinema kicks out soon, and there's always a few more coming in, then. It was very good to meet you. I'm hoping you might have guessed I'm attracted but wary. Sorry, that's the way it is. So, will I be seeing you in here again?"
Seb nodded. He wondered if it was it wishful thinking to imagine he saw hope in Ruari's eyes. He's right to be wary. I sure as hell am. "Now I've found you, I don't think I'll forget you." How much of that is double talk, then?
Ruari stood up and put his hand briefly on Seb's shoulder. A tingle of awareness ran through Seb, making his skin shiver.
"Good," Ruari said. "I'll look forward to it. Enjoy your pint, and if you can, tolerate the music."
In a weird, masochistic way, Seb enjoyed both. The pint and the one he followed it up with were in perfect condition. A bit like Ruari, he decided. He chuckled inwardly at his fancifulness. The smooth flavors tricked through him as he drank, and he savored every drop.
The band was everything promised, and his fellow customers were friendly. Whether it was the fact he had been sitting with the boss, or just the way the others in the pub were, he didn’t know. He was chatted with, brought into conversations, and made to be a part of the community. A couple of hours passed. The pub had filled to capacity, and the noise levels rose. Seb found himself shouting so he could be heard, along with most of the other customers.
No doubt his throat would suffer. He'd pay the price the following day. His head thumped with the noise, but Seb didn't care. He was enjoying himself.
Seb could hardly believe how disappointed he felt that he didn't speak to Ruari again but only saw him behind the bar. Ruari pulled pints and mixed drinks at a rate that made Seb dizzy—and Seb had worked a bar for many years whilst studying.
With a final swallow, Seb finished the last of his drink, stood up and said good-bye to the two guys he'd been chatting with. "Better go. Thanks for the company." He put his jacket on, and the man nearest to him grinned.
"You're welcome," he said. "Will we be seeing you in here again? We're in most Fridays."
Seb nodded. "Oh, I reckon so. It's good to find a place to drink with people I can get on with."
The other of his two companions laughed. "Some more than others, eh?" He nodded to the bar where Ruari was lifting the flap to come around from the serving side.
Seb put his hands to his face and realized his cheeks were hot. He must be the color of the tomato juice on the bar shelf. "Ah well, who knows," he said. The words sounded lame to his ears. "But all being well, I'll pop in next week." He sketched a wave and made his way to the door. Ruari waylaid him just as he reached it.
"Were you going without saying good-bye, then?" Ruari's tone was light, but Seb fancied he saw hurt in the other man's eyes.
"I didn't want to, but you seemed busy." Seb was aghast the other man might think he didn't care enough to speak to him before he left. "Apart from all that, I wondered if it was just hot air earlier; be nice to a new punter you know?" At the look in Ruari's eyes—definitely hurt—he stopped suddenly. "Oh fuck. No, I hoped it wasn't, but you were busy, and I didn't want to presume."
The darkness went out of Ruari's eyes. He nodded. "Okay, I'll buy that. After all, you don't know me from shit. However, I'll tell you here and now, no hot air, except the crap you're spouting now."
Seb grinned. His heart grew light, and he burst out laughing. That's me told, then.
Ruari grinned back. "Yeah well, and you're not presuming. Not unless I am as well?" he said as he ended on a note of interrogation.
Seb shook his head, still grinning. Life was definitely looking up. "Nope. Both thinking the same things, and both I reckon thinking take it slow and steady?"
Ruari nodded. "So?"
"So, I'll see you next week sometime." He deliberately didn't make it a question, and Ruari didn’t treat it as one.
"Sure." Ruari hesitated, then leaned forward and gave him a brief hug, which Seb returned. The tingles it evoked were reminiscent of gentle rain on his skin. His anticipation of what might be in the offing rose hot and relentless, like an erupting volcano. Seb left the hug with reluctance before he waved and headed off down the road.
He would pop back in at some point before long, he was sure of it. Even if those first prickles of awareness proved to be nothing more than the "oh, here's someone new" feelings that went no deeper. He knew he'd found a friend and a lot of like-minded people to socialize with.
***
Being plunged into another school week with all the teething problems associated with a new, important role, Seb had little time to think about the Jolly Roger, or its owner. He saw Ruari's sister Stacy a few times—it was hard not to in a school this size—but that was it. He discovered that he arrived at his desk early and left late with hardly time for a coffee in between. Seb found some consolation in that it wouldn't be forever, but for now it seemed like it. By the time the following Friday came around, he was more than glad it was the end of the school week. The morning assembly was on the subject of acceptance. He saw more than a few pupils squirm and look away. Satisfied he'd made his point, Seb dismissed his pupils to their last day of classes in the school week and headed for his office. He would be ready for his two days away from the school and its environs. The last dominie was a hard act to follow; he'd been well liked by pupils, staff, and parents. Seb knew there was still a lot of suspicion regarding him, his single status, and to some of those who knew, his sexuality.
Dismissing his thoughts, he started on the e-mails left for him to answer. Seb grinned as he remembered the moans and groans that he and his friends had given when they found out typing lessons were compulsory at school. Now he realized how far thinking his school had been. He was pleased the school he had become so proud of running had the same ideas. He began to read and return his messages, and before long became engrossed. When the lunch bell rang it startled him. He jerked his hands, and a stream of gibberish appeared on the screen in front of him. He pressed the Delete key—vSD;ja in the middle of a letter to the director of education didn’t seem a very good idea.
His secretary looked around his door. "I'm off for lunch now," she said. Seb thought it unnecessary and had politely mention it to her. She did the same thing at the same time every day. A creature of habit. The thought amused him. "Do you want anything?" The same repeated question, nice but not needed.
He shook his head as usual. So much of his job seemed to involve sitting at a desk these days, Seb had decided not to eat at lunchtime; he didn't want to get middle-aged spread before he got to middle age. "I'm fine, thank you. I'll pop out to see how things are going in a second."
"I've switched on the answer phone," she said.
