A Click of Marble

Unlike most times when he was doing his zone patrols and checking in on his podium, called the observation deck, this time around his panting suggested he was trying to forget what he had seen Elsie do. She chuckled. The guy was unique alright.

Cute too.

As Elsie made her way back to her car, the junior officer winked at her. With a playful bat of the eye, she reminded him that it was against Jame’s rules, concerning moonstruck madness, as she flipped her ponytail back. Walking away, she put a little extra hip action in her steps and walked out with a confident playful laugh.

As she exited, she heard the radio call. It was James chastising his junior officer for moonstruck madness. She suppressed her laughter in case he was in hearing shot. The man moved about campus quickly, no point in finding out that her laugh made him blush.

The tyranny of the Friend Zone frustrations

As the school year unfolded, James became aware that he was in serious trouble. The effect of hearing Ms Elsie Clarke clicking on the marble entrance each day was driving him mad with lust. Just needed to focus. Take his attention away from sex. Yet, unlike prior years, Ms Elsie seemed to cross his guard post way too often.

For starters, she was her usual very friendly yet super professional self. She totally acted like the encounter before school opened ever happened. He could have sworn that he had heard her giggle as he was riding his junior officer into the ground. Yet, no hints, no signs, no acknowledgment.

One of her assignments had her assisting with welcoming parents into the school. Her lovely ways and sweet gestures made it seem as if she not only enjoyed welcoming people in, but it was a very personal warm inviting welcome into her own place. The woman radiated the sweetest kindness.

There was the rotation bit she did after greeting each guests as she prepared to see the other. Like a swan gracefully alighting lightly around ready for flight. Her hair just swished and floated like a cape around her as she turned. James was lost in sounds of choirs singing and exalting her sweetness.

The day she caught him in reverie ended the hair out luxury. Ms Clarke put her hair in a tight functional bun. It was over. It was personal. She had to know she was making him weak and exposing his member to fierce efforts to explode out of his pants. She just had to know, didn’t she?

Worse, the harder he tried to be jovial with her, the more professionally distant she felt. The less banter she allowed. The more focused and driven she appeared. The upside to that, when she walked away with great speed and determination, her rear danced a song that palpitated his heart near full capitulation.

James found himself needing to take longer breaks to drink copious amounts of cold water. Even dousing his face and hair with ice-cold water.

He had a standard to maintain.

He called it his new wet hair look, for those who asked. He was trying to anticipated the latest fad the kids were up to, in an effort to remain relevant and hip.

No one bought his cover. The man had the hots for Ms Clarke and it was written over his forehead with bright neon colors. Moonstruck madness was the least of his worries with regards to Ms Clarke.

There was this recurring dream that was tormenting him however. This was bad. He needed to shake off the dreams of taking Ms Elsie by the arm and directing her to his office where he would forcefully pin her to his wall. Hold her by the throat. Pin her arms above her head. And start to interrogate her about her being wet without his permission.

That was totally and utterly wrong of him.

That was just wrong.

Just wrong.

Why?

Why those intense feelings?

He felt like he was actually doing this to her in his dreams. The realism was shaking his full armor of ethics.

Many a night, he’d wake himself shaking and drenched in sweat as he caught himself before his tongue devoured the luscious lips of hers. Forget the time he had her hands tied to the wall and spanked her hotly with his bare hands.

The guilt was killing him as he’d wake nearly exploding a load in the bed. Mind you, as hard as he ran the air conditioning, he was burning up and suffocating with desires for the very woman who wanted nothing to do with him.

He was the security guard. The one with the whistle and flashlight. No actual handcuffs. No actual ability to arrest anyone. No authority. No power. Yet, in these dreams of his, he wanted to exert full control and power over this angel of a sweetheart.

He knew ever sound her body made. The swish of the skirt as she moved, the click of the heels that drove him wild, and the motion of her shoulders as her body effortlessly sliced the hall traffic.

Clearing his throat, James prayed for mercy and grace. This torture had no respite in sight. His best surveillance suggested that he was at the pit of the friendship box. The dreaded friend zone. Sadly, he was not a friend. He was just that guy who provided muscle to keep the kids in check whenever they got out of line.

Maybe, just maybe, for the first school dance, he’d get a chance to show his skills and prove to Elsie that he was worthy of her attention, affection, caress, love… sex…

James lost focus.

His attention came sharply into focus at the sound of a loud bang. Trying to not look scared or startled, he sat up quickly with his hand on his whistle.

“Earth to James James”

crap

Elsie did not look at all pleased. Her position of authority and dominance was clear. She was all business and he was a shrinking mess at his desk. Her clenched fist must have been the source of the bang that had nearly given him a heart attack.

So. Um..

That moment of dream was not at home… it was at work… and his pants were pulled extra tight from the risen bulge from his inappropriate thoughts about Elsie.

Great. Just great. Just freaking flipping great.

“I thought you weren’t like most guy here, I see I was wrong. I’ll just get your junior officer to lend me a hand”

With that, her heels did their signature slide sound as she smartly rotated on her heels and walked off with poise, power, authority, grace, and defiant chip on the shoulder.

As James sat transfixed with his jaw slacked, his radio crackled the phrase moonstruck madness as the principal walked out with a look of derision.

Even better still.

His very speech he had perfected to dissuade the kids from having sex so young was now being given to him about his complete lack of professionalism. To add insult to injury, the principal stressed how the kids couldn’t take him seriously anymore and the office had to now field questions about his lustful desires that made everyone uncomfortable.

Unsure if there were poetic jabs to humiliate him or not, James felt the pangs and agony of defeat that only his teen self understood when his date to the prom, the morning of the prom, announced she was going with his nemesis.

The principal left James to his thoughts as the staff bully arrived on the scene with a look of mockery. He was in too good a mood too. This was not the time for any shenanigans. While James was not worried about the gym teacher, who had a way of bullying other teachers about, dread of jokes made his throat dry up. How cliché and convenient too.

The smirk was just nagging James.

Then… the mouth of the jerk opened and spoke.

“I thought you’d be interested in knowing that I’m taking Ms Clarke to the school dance for October-fest”

As Jame’s face loss color and his wood deflated, the smirk broadened into a full-out smile of victory as his nemesis grabbed himself in a manner to indicate that James had lost the girl yet again.