Studs and Stilettos

Lesson 6 - never lean too heavily on an erect phallus. It may snap off.

I knew it.

I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!!!

What could be the worst thing to befall a young, inexperienced, unmotivated, innocent, shy, paranoid, debt laden female teacher in an all male environment.

Well...it's about to happen to me.

I blame Mick and Joe. Those two so-called Biologists.

They did it on purpose, I'm sure of it.

When you don't want to teach something yourself, pass it on to the nearest available muggins and make them get on with it.

'So...good morning everyone.'

I walk into the Biology prep room rubbing my hands to give the impression that I am ready for anything and to avoid anyone seeing that I am trembling on full throttle.

The room is lined with bottles of stuffed dead creatures like pickled gherkins, posters, bell jars, a few plants, plastic models of body parts and the inevitable skeleton grinning skinlessly in the corner.

Joe and Mick are busy ticking at a side desk but they turn around and grin at me and then at each other. Only they know what is in store.

'This is Miss Moon our technical support assistant.' Joe waves vaguely, a long-distance introduction to a female wrestler in a lab coat with a crew cut and nose ring. It's the tattoo that catches my eye. It says 'don't mess with me laddie' surrounded by a couple of serpents permanently stamped to her lower gammon joint of an arm.

Miss Moon smiles in that friendly sorta way and I take a step back: am I reading the signals wrong or is she after a bit of alternative talent.

'I'm supposed to be teaching Year 8 this morning in Room 4.' My voice has changed for the worse and I'm praying Miss Moon doesn't get excited by the timorous quiver.

'Ahhhhh yes.' Joe and Mick look at each. 'You'll be starting reproduction with them.'

'Repro......(gulp)....duction?' The timorous quiver is now a vibrato Moon magnet. She's coming towards me....

I start backing out of the room. 'I don't know anything about reproduction....'

Moonie is coming closer and closer.... she's almost in my face then she simply crushes my body into the wall in an all-out, blatant assault. I close my eyes and try to breathe. Why aren't the two little Biology bastards doing anything? Are they watching this female attack on an innocent heterosexual: filming it perhaps for Face Book or the alternative school website? I feel the heaving chest pushing against my face as Moon woman leans her full twenty-five stone blubber and bone bulk against my comparatively waif like structure and reach up above my head.'

'These will be useful Camilla.' Moonie's voice is cultured, posh, soft with received pronunciation. She speaks just like the Queen!

I breathe normally again.

Staggering backwards – this is obviously heavy even by female weight-lifter standards – she drops the enormous draped structure onto a large central bench and whisks back the cloth.

I am speechless!

This is a school for God's sake!

What on Uranus are such things doing in view of innocent schoolboys – I have a flashback of little George. He didn't even know what a tap was! What on earth would his mummy think of this?

Moonie has unveiled a gigantic plastic torso with the biggest male reproductive organs this side of an elephant. Two enormous testicles like hairy avocado pears droop down behind a German knackwurst. Miss Moon swivels the model round on its little turntable and I now have a view of the before and after effects of reading the Men Only magazines from the top shelf at W.H. Smiths.