Laura ran to her pet and let him out of the kitchen. He was very upset, and it took her a long time to calm him down.
Kissing his smooth fur, Laura wept with guilt. She'd betrayed her first love already. Did he know? Would she ever want Lance again? At the moment, Laura was too satisfied to do anything but sleep. She ran to the bedroom, locked Lance out, and slept for hours.
The next day, Laura rushed home from school to wait for the phone call. She didn't wash the boards in her classroom or put new work up, or even stop at her mailbox in the school office. She flew homey fearing she'd miss Bert's call.
Relieved to be within hearing distance of the phone, Laura tried to mark some papers while she waited. It was impossible. She couldn't keep her mind on the simplest thing. The whole world was that deadly quiet telephone. She watched it and willed it to ring. It didn't.
Laura mixed herself a drink and gulped it down. She was tired and nervous. It had been a hard day with the children. They had been achievement testing all day, and Laura had been forced to follow exact directions and maintain stern discipline from nine o'clock to three, with only a few short breaks. She was drained from it.
She watched the clock and the disappointing phone. It was five-thirty already, and no call.
Suddenly, it rang! She let it ring twice and grabbed it. It was Betty.
"Hi. This is Bet."
"Hi. How are you?"
"Great. How's the belle of the ball?"
"Oh – you mean the wedding? I did have fun there." Laura nervously watched the clock. It was twenty-five to six. She had to get off the phone or the line would be busy when Bert called her.
She didn't want to hurt Bet's feelings, and from past experience, she knew it was sometimes very difficult to hang up on Bet if she was offended or thought that Laura was trying to get rid of her.
Desperately Laura tried a lie. "Listen, sis. Can I call you back later tonight? I'm expecting an important call. From my principal."
"I'm not important?" teased Bet."
"Of course you are," laughed Laura. "I'll talk to you later."
Without even waiting for an answer, Laura hung up. The line was clear now, and she waited for her lover.
He didn't call. By six o'clock, Laura was weeping and on her fourth drink. She sat and cried, petting Lance's head. The dog looked worried about her, but she barely noticed him.
Finally, Laura couldn't stand it any longer. She had to call him! She didn't know whether he worked or went to school, whether he lived at home or with that blonde. She didn't know anything about him! In her drunken stupor she had to laugh at herself. She had been so nervous and self-conscious about what to talk about during the lunch, and she'd been too cloddish to even ask him about himself. Laura sighed at her inadequacies.
No wonder he didn't call. I probably bored him to death.
She wept some more, trying to get up her courage to call Bert.
It was rather tricky calling Bert at his parents' home, since his mother, Elaine, knew Laura's voice very well.
If she recognizes my voice as I ask for him, I'll never live it down!
She was still sober enough to be afraid.
Laura dialed his number as she shook with nerves. Her own sister might answer the phone there, as Bet was Elaine's best friend, and lived near her. A man answered.
That's right. It's dinnertime.
Laura felt nauseous. In a low, disguised voice, Laura asked for Bert. She knew she was talking to his father.
"May I speak to Bert, please?"
"Who's calling?"
Laura wasn't prepared for that. "Uh… uh… Mary." She clenched her teeth in nervousness.
Will he come to the phone? Why didn't he call me? What should I say to him?
An eternity elapsed.
They must have been eating dinner.
Bert was on the phone. He was talking with his mouth full, but she knew his voice immediately.
"Yeah?"
"It's me. Laura."
"Oh. Hi. I was going to call you."
"Well, I wasn't home a good part of the day, and I thought I missed your call," she explained nervously.
"I was going to call you tonight, honest," the boyish voice said, his mouth empty now.
"It doesn't matter. How are you?" Laura was stalling. She was trying desperately to keep from asking him when she was going to see him.
"How about tomorrow night?" he asked.
Laura heaved a sigh of relief. She didn't have to ask him. A tear crept down her cheek. She was worn out from the long vigil at the telephone.
"Fine. What time?"
"I'll come at eight o'clock, after supper. We'll stay at your place."
"Okay." It was obvious that he wasn't going to take her out any more for a while. He couldn't afford it, anyhow.
I'll provide the entertainment, she planned, dreaming of sucking on his cock. She wanted to say, "I love you. I've been thinking about you all day," but she held on to herself, and she didn't. She felt almost sober now from the strain – just a little bit dizzy.
"See ya, Mary," he laughed.
"Good-bye."
Laura hung up, worrying that he might not have known who he was talking to.
Could he be dating a Mary, too? He doesn't know me long enough to know my voice.
She worried about that half of the night, and finally dropped off, exhausted, after she wearily remembered that she had mentioned her own name.
Bert finally arrived the next night, forty minutes late. By then, Laura was in a state of alcoholic stupor from four Manhattans. They seemed to help the waiting.
She saw Bert every other day for weeks, mostly sucking his cock. He fucked her less and less, but she didn't care. She had wild orgasms as she sucked him off, and they were both deeply satisfied from the oral sex.
Laura found it impossible to go to work on many of the school days that followed her dates with Bert. He often stayed till three or four o'clock in the morning, expecting her to give head repeatedly during the night.
Weary Laura was finally called in by Mr. Anderson for a confidential talk. He looked very grim.
"What seems to be the matter, Miss Bellini?"
That's a bad sign. He used to called me Laura.
"I haven't been feeling very well lately, Mr. Anderson," she lied.
"What's wrong?"
"My stomach again." 'Have you seen a doctor?"
"Yes. Twice. He's been giving me medicine, but I'm up at night a lot – with the pain." He didn't look impressed.
Very coldly, he informed her, "I'm sorry that you're ill, Miss Bellini, but this is a school, you known and your class expects a teacher there every day. We both realize that having a substitute there twice a week is not good."
"Yes. Yes. I understand," Laura whispered fearfully.
"And I suppose you know that you've used up all of your sick leave, and have now gone over it by six days."
"No. I didn't realize."
Six days' pay gone. Oh, no. I'm going to get fired, too.
"We try to be understanding in cases of illness, but this has been going on for some time. It's very unpleasant to have to say this, Miss Bellini, but it's for the children's sake. I must warn you that if you're not able to be here regularly, we'll have to get a full-time substitute to fill in for you for the rest of the term. In that way, there will be the security and continuity of the same teacher here all the time."
"You mean, you'll fire me?" she whispered.
"Well, it's too soon to decide on that," he hedged. "We'll consider it a long leave of absence at this point. I'd certainly like to give you a chance to recover."
What's happening to me? Now I'm blowing my job!
Laura had been teaching for many years, but she was fairly new in this district and she had no tenure. She wept from anxiety and shame. Laura had always been so conscientious and regular in attendance before.
"I'm going to talk to my doctor right away, sir. I'll do my best to get better soon. I'll be here whenever it's humanly possible," she sobbed.
Mr. Anderson was embarrassed and eager to end the interview. He stood up and said, "I hope so. We'd hate to lose you."