Catching Waves

Part Nine

The week rushed by, the days dropped into some sort of cosmic blender that whizzed away at top speed. It appeared that when two people discovered that together they made super-hot-sex, literally everything became excruciatingly horny - Preston's dry tone during assembly made Caitlin cross her legs first one way, then the other, then back again. The sight of Caitlin calmly explaining to Dean Jones that hers was not a classroom where 'fuckingarsetwat' was an appropriate insult sent Preston ducking into the nearest staff toilet to readjust his trousers. But behind all the sex was of course the spectre of Friday evening - when Preston and his flash Mazda would be nipping down the motorway to start a new life in London with his 25% off Iced Chocolate Brown sofa suite. As with all the best spectres, this one had been left to grow and grow, taking on mammoth proportions, the elephant in the room that they became adept at squeezing past, easing around, staring through. It was, Caitlin explained to Heidi on Tuesday, a real pain in the arse. "I'm not saying He Is The One, I'm really not. But I just wish he wasn't going away right now." On the week trundled, each minute leaving Caitlin feeling more and more conflicted. The three week Easter holiday was an extravagantly wrapped gift, just waiting to be unwrapped and explored but somehow, thinking about the break left Caitlin feeling a little blue. There was a more-than-usual end of term feel to the days; Caitlin's students crackled with anticipation whilst the teachers were giddy with the prospect of change as well as holidays. Preston, to Caitlin's eye, had taken on an almost pontifical status within the school, teachers stopped to shake his hand and students wanted to share a last word. He spent a minute with each of them, smiling his thin smile and allowing them to squeeze his arm, clap his back but his eyes were distant, in his head he was already writing policy and lobbying ministers. There was, she explained to Josh on Wednesday, no real question of their dalliance continuing post London, his new job would be utterly time consuming and London such a trek. Standing in the photocopying queue with Simon on Thursday, she decided that if Preston was to ever ask her to meet him half way for a coffee and a catch up, she'd definitely go. Or if he was back visiting friends, she'd make the effort to meet him. If he wanted. Because, whilst they hadn't made any promises to each other, she argued with Rose on Friday morning, they'd connected in a big way and it would be wrong to lose that. Indiscrete-Rose, who knew less than everyone, nodded knowingly, squirreling away the details for when she finally figured out who was putting the spark into Caitlin's eyes. 

Finally, 2.40pm on Friday afternoon arrived. Students were traditionally released an hour early in order to allow for speeches, egg sandwiches and weak beer for the teachers and this term was no exception. Staff flooded to the staff room to pile plates high with insipid snacks. Rose had spent her hastily collected party fund on booze not butties, and the teaching body were keen to line their stomachs. If Preston was alarmed at the haste with which his soon-to-be-ex employees were filling up, he hid it well, maintaining the calm and cool exterior that had served him so well over the last couple of years. Caitlin glanced at him over-often. She was being determinedly fine, really ok that he was leaving that night, looking forward to sending him off in style, with plenty of fond memories of their brief (oh, so brief!) time together. Clutching her squashy plastic cup of beer, she leant back against one of the notice boards, her mind wandering back to last night ... 

Given that the boffing had only started in earnest on Tuesday morning, Caitlin felt that they had made the very most of the time since. Thursday evening had seen Preston rock up at Caitlin's at 9pm, divesting her of her knickers by 9.10 and whisking her out for a Chinese by 9.30. They'd sat on the seafront to eat, legs dangling off the walkway straight onto the shingle. They'd swapped foo yung for fried shrimps to the soundtrack of waves crashing onto the shore, drinking from a bottle of cheap fizz that Preston had picked up from the Spar as Caitlin waited for the take away. They'd wandered back to her flat slowly, Reg running to and fro, delighting in this late night wander. Upon arrival, they'd had sex again and it was better, slower and Caitlin had had an orgasm so vast she'd had to lie absolutely still for a minute to catch her breath, breathing in deeply through her nose and out of her mouth until the fog in her head cleared.