Till Dawn

Şafağa Kadar

Nastya was going to school with a feeling of light melancholy. She had her first parent-teacher meeting coming up, which she would be conducting on her own. Due to a string of unexpected circumstances, Nastya became a school teacher, although she hadn’t even thought about it. The principal’s words to her the day before didn’t help her confidence either, “If I wasn’t afraid to burn in front of parents out of shame, I would have taken part in the meeting. But now you have to face that shame yourself.” Running into the classroom, Anastasia set herself up for one simple thought that “Everything will be fine.”

After adjusting the desks and erasing the chalky writing from the blackboard, she took out the previously prepared newsletters from her desk drawer. She ran her eyes over the notebook with the main points of the upcoming event. The noise gradually grew in the corridor, the sound of footsteps was joined by the chatter. A crowd was actively gathering. Anastasia buttoned up her navy blue fitted jacket and was horrified to find white spots on her navy blue pants. They immediately caught her attention, stretching from the waist down, especially on the right leg. Glancing at her wristwatch, the teacher rushed to her purse. Pulling out wet wipes, with less than two minutes left before the start of the meeting, she began frantically wiping away the chalk marks. The wipes only worsened it. While the fabric was wet, the marks were almost invisible, but as soon as the hot September air dried the pants, the white spots reappeared with incredible speed. “Not now, not now,” Nastya panicked as she wiped the wipe to the holes.

There was a knock at the door. Frozen, she looked at it. She managed to regain control of her voice and shouted.

“Five more minutes… um… the room is being ventilated.”

The door was left alone. Looking down, Nastya was frustrated—the stains had not exactly disappeared, but now they had brazenly spread all over her pants. As they dried, they glistened in the sun with a heterogeneous texture. You’d have to be blind not to notice them and wonder what could have caused this. After rummaging through her purse, the girl found nothing useful. There was no way out. With one hand, Anastasia began to take off her pants, and with the other, she pulled out a red checkered skirt from the bottom drawer of her desk. On hot summer days, when there were no students and her colleagues had no desire to leave their classrooms, she wore it to prepare syllabi for the school year. She usually paired it with a light T-shirt and open-toed sandals with high laces. She crouched in the farthest corner of the office from the door and pulled off the pants from her young, toned legs. As she bent down to pick them up, she felt how the purple velvet panties wrapped her buttocks in a special way. The upper part of the set gently supported her firm, juicy breasts, which pressed against the buttons of her shirt, undoing them with audacity. She adored this set of lingerie, and especially its third component—the wide choker she wore for special occasions. Playing with herself in private brought her heavenly bliss to feel something sensitive, pliable, and at the same time wrapped around her neck. This piece of fabric multiplied her sensations many times over, making them more acute. Dreamily, she bit her lower lip. Holding the skirt in her hands, she thought about the recent evening. There was another knock at the door. The memory dissipated instantly. Quickly pulling on her skirt, she wondered if she had gotten her panties wet while changing her pants.

There was a banging on the door. Frightened, Nastya quickly pulled up her skirt and straightened her top, forgetting about the buttons in that haste. Running by the windows, she quickly turned the knob up, putting them in the airing mode.

“Please, come in,” she said, hiding behind the table and sitting down in the teacher’s seat, putting thin-rimmed glasses on her nose. “Parents, please come in. We can start the meeting.”

She spoke her last words barely audibly. In the stomping of a dozen feet, in the buzz of voices, the teacher’s voice sank without a trace. Men were hurrying through the door into the classroom. “Only men,” Nastya looked at this male fraternity with fear.

The sound of chairs clattering across the floor, sometimes along with desks, dispelled the nightmares. “I’m doing a good job with children, so I shouldn’t worry about the adults,” Anastasia reassured herself, adjusting glasses on her neat nose. When the crowd had settled down, she took the initiative, relying on a plan she had prepared in advance.

“Good afternoon, parents. Since the previous teacher was unable to continue her work, I have taken the liberty of replacing her. Therefore, at the beginning of our fruitful cooperation, it is advisable to discuss most of the issues.”

“What’s ya name? I mean your…” the man sitting at the back of the classroom immediately corrected himself.

“Sir, you’re at school,” the girl scolded the father of one of the students. “If you have a question, raise your hand!”

The man immediately pulled his right hand up.

“What is your name?”

Without a second thought, the girl left her seat and went to the board and wrote in neat handwriting.

“Anastasia Myroslavivna. But for children, my patronymic is difficult to pronounce, they distort it more often than they have a desire to play pranks, so I don’t mind the option of Ms. Anastasia.”

Turning to face the class, she was met with a dozen admiring stares that followed her every move. Visibly nervous, she put her hand on the shelf under the blackboard. One careless movement and the wooden pointer fell to the floor with a dull thud. Her reaction was several times faster than her thought. Quickly, bending down, she grabbed the polished wood with her delicate fingers. The quick movement caused her skirt to ride up, revealing her girlish secrets to the audience. Excited breaths, united by a dozen larynges, loudly swept through the classroom. Anastasia had made a mistake, and she needed to straighten up quickly and apologize to the fathers without stuttering. “But wait!” The girl stopped herself. “Nastya, you are running this meeting, and it’s up to you to decide what direction it will take.”

“Oh, I’m so tired today,” slowly straightening up, she adjusted her skirt with light movements of her fingers, teasing the back desks with the smoothness of her legs, while the front desks were able to enjoy them for a moment longer. She pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes and exhaled a short breath through her smiling mouth, gleaming with white teeth.

Following the teacher’s slightest movement, several hands flew into the air at once.

“Can I have your phone number? Because if some questions arise, I’ll need to discuss it with you,” three male voices merged in unison.

The chalk in the teacher’s fragile palm danced across the board again.

“This is the one you can call during the working day. And this one you can use to send messages in the chat, but I absolutely do not accept calls to it.”

The men were carefully typing numbers on the phone displays.

“If that’s all the questions, let’s start working on the main points.”

A whistle of air filled the classroom, and the sight of men’s arms raised suggested that the meeting would be long. Adjusting her glasses, a startled Nastya spoke up.

“Yes, I’m listening.”

Answering questions, many of which were not directly related to the topic of the meeting, Nastya steered the curious crowd in the direction she wanted. Somewhere in the middle of the meeting, a nasty, warty face burst into the classroom without knocking. Looking around with disdain, the principal was given extremely displeased looks. After ten seconds, she retreated. The sound of her massive feet slapping against the floor made it clear that the principal had gone to her office.

All the men’s attention was once again focused on Nastya and her checkered skirt, which bounced with every step, and her bronze-looking, toned legs. The parent-teacher meeting ended with the first hints of autumn twilight. Having ended it on a positive note, Nastya had already changed her clothes and was about to leave the classroom when the principal returned.

“You didn’t run the meeting right!” the warty monstrosity said dismissively.

“Why?” the teacher was sincerely surprised, holding a bag with children’s workbooks that she hadn’t had time to check because of the meeting, so that they would cover the white spots on her pants.

“Why was it so quiet? Where were the quarrels? Where were the screams? Where was the swearing that makes your ears spin? Huh? Why are you looking away, I ask you?”

“Excuse me, Larysa Mykhailivna, maybe you’ve confused school with a viper’s den?” Nastya said, looking down at her feet. “We worked out our plans for the future, signed all the forms. And in general, we achieved everything we wanted.”

“And where are the tears? Where’s the humiliation?” with her eyes bulging, the principal sprayed the girl with foul breath.

“In a civilized society, issues are resolved by compromise. Now excuse me, I’m in a hurry.”

The principal stared at the teacher’s clothes. It was clear from her eyes that she was trying to remember what she had seen her wearing recently, but the picture did not come together in the elderly woman’s mind. Leaving the principal alone, Nastya rushed out of the school. It was a twenty-minute walk home. Walking home, the teacher enjoyed the warm September day, and her daily walk helped her keep her legs in good shape, even without a gym.

Dropping the bag of workbooks at the doorstep, she played with her cat, who was happy to see her home from work. Promising to pay more attention to it in the evening, she undid the top button on her jacket. With each new loop released, it became easier for her to breathe. A slight nervousness made her want to take off her clothes as soon as possible, leaving the stressful day behind her. Button by button, and the next thing she knows, the jacket is resting on the hanger. Her juicy breasts in a soft velvet top emerge from beneath the crisp white shirt. Her fingers move gracefully, carefully, not to disturb the magic of the quiet peace that envelops the house. Her toned, athletic tummy moves smoothly until her hands rest on the waistband of her pants. A slight movement throws off the rhythm, causing her breathing to speed up. A soft click and the pumped-up, bronzed legs pop out of the fabric’s grip. Staying in her underwear, Nastya enters the bathroom. Devoid of unnecessary harshness, she closes the door behind her. Two juicy, incredibly elastic breasts appear from under her top. Running her hands down her thighs, she pulls her panties down, exposing her smooth, delicate pubis.

A smiling reflection looks at the girl from the fogged mirror. Winking, it whispers silently with just its lips that it is a real crime to hide such a sexy body under the layers of a strict teacher’s outfit. Crossing the threshold of the shower stall, the girl leaves a small crack so that cold air can sneak in, touch her with its cold breath, and excite her nipples, which are not yet accustomed to the temperature change. The bottle of liquid soap falls into her wet palms. She squeezes it out liberally. A viscous liquid scented with a sweet mixture of tangerine, strawberry, and raspberry fills her hands. Whipping up the lush, creamy foam, Nastya washes away the fatigue of the workday. First her face, then her delicate neck, then her breasts. She pays special attention to her breasts. The aroma of the soap intensifies, and as her hands go down, a faint smell of patchouli and notes of white musk become apparent. It shifts towards the accents of raspberry jam. The girl’s fingers are now gently caressing the skin surrounding a delicate jasmine flower. Thoughts revolve around her favorite piece of clothing, her choker. The memories transport her back to a few hours ago, when she caught the admiring glances of her students’ fathers, how they greedily looked up and down her checkered skirt, how they tried to undo as many buttons as possible with their eyes, freeing her from the shackles of the stringent shirt. The napkins were useless, she guessed. At the time, she didn’t understand, but now she undoubtedly sees the reason, thinking about the choker again and again.

“Tonight, before I go to bed, I will return to this thought, and not just to this thought.” Nastya promised herself as she rinsed off the soap with a stream of warm water. “I still have some work to do, but in the evening nothing will disturb me.” After drying herself with a warm towel, she pulled on a stretched gray T-shirt, and to avoid giving in to the temptation, she pulled her shorts over her buttocks, which almost reached her knees.

A teapot with freshly brewed green tea stood on the edge of the table, most of which was occupied by students’ workbooks. Nastya set up her laptop in the free space. The cat was rubbing itself underfoot, and deciding that it had received enough attention, it went about its important feline business, found the nearest paper box, and snuggled in it for sleep.

Anastasia had a habit of choosing a genre of movies and then blindly clicking on any of them, leaving it to fate to decide. If she came across a movie she had recently watched, she would pick it again.

Today, the fate chose Nine and a Half Weeks. Pressing the play button, the girl purred with pleasure, echoing her beloved pet.

“Mmm… young Mickey Rourke, such a cutie! Although he’s a scumbag in the movie, he must be a sweetheart in real life.”

Looking through the students’ workbooks, she found time to enjoy what was happening on the screen, listen to the dialogues, and feel the plot filled with metaphors and symbolism. As soon as the first chords of You Can Leave Your Hat On sounded, all her attention was riveted to the screen.

The stack of unchecked workbooks reached the zero mark, the teapot was lying on its side showing the world its empty belly, and the credits were rolling on the screen. The sounds of the evening city made Nastya sleepy, so she promised herself to just close her eyes for a bit and rested her head on her folded arms in front of her. The table wasn’t quite comfortable, but she would just close her eyes for five minutes. The cat’s purr burst into her consciousness with hypnotic magic, beckoning her to plunge headlong into oblivion.

Anastasia was running through the empty corridors of the school, cursing herself for what it was worth. “How come,” she thought, “my main task for the day was to write an application for vacation. Well, writing it was not a problem, but getting it signed by this toad is such a quest, especially for an unexpected vacation. Even the fact that the vacation is only for two days doesn’t help. And I dared to postpone it to the evening… I had to start in the morning. But something always gets in the way, and then I forget. Oh, Nastya, you’re in trouble. Why didn’t you do it yesterday? Or even better, at the beginning of the week, so that the monster would have time to find a replacement for you while you are away. Did your mom’s birthday take you by surprise this year? Or did the date change, and you didn’t have time to get your bearings? Enough,” the girl cut herself off, gathering her resolve in front of the principal’s office. “It’s better to channel your anger into charisma and smile innocently and sincerely.” Nastya closed her palm into a fist and knocked on the door. Looking down at the floor, she waited for thirty seconds and then knocked again. “Smile innocently and sincerely, and don’t forget to add more charisma.”

Pushing the door open, she started from the threshold.

“Larysa Mykhailivna, I know the rules of the game, but this is really urgent, so I’m asking you to just give me a vacation. Just two days. Please…”

It was suspiciously quiet for a while. When Anastasia looked up from the floor, she saw that the office was empty. Closing the door behind her, the girl walked on with a light step, clicking her heels, looking around curiously, as if she were here for the first time. Although, to tell the truth, it was the first time she was alone in the office. Usually, it was either locked or with the monstrosity inside. Looking around the shelves littered with old stuff, Nastya didn’t catch her eye on anything. Witnesses of the past, are silent, and that makes them even more disgusting. Witnesses of someone’s youth sacrificed for work. A life given up for a career ladder, the girl summarized, looking at the photos lined up in a row, where one could trace the path from a once ordinary girl to this lonely monster. “Horrific,” Nastya shrugged her shoulders, shaking off her amusement.

“That’s even better, I’ll leave an application without listening to her nasty grumbling.”

Putting the piece of paper on the edge of the table, the girl was about to leave, but her legs froze in place with a will of their own. “Can everyone be driven like this by the desire to grab a piece of power?” Anastasia thought with faint compassion. Obeying a strange, alien desire, she walked over to a worn leather chair that had long since seen better days. She gathered her courage and sat down on its edge, fantasizing that this was her seat now. She timidly put her hands in front of her. “I don’t need this kind of happiness,” she jerked her hands away, as if the wood burned no worse than the hellish fire of loneliness. The clumsy movement caused the computer mouse to slide across the table surface and, if the wire had been shorter, it would have flown to the floor. The extinguished monitor came to life. The teacher’s eyes widened in surprise. An incomplete letter for her resignation appeared on the screen.

“What the…?!!” the girl did not hesitate to spice up the question with a delicious curse, describing how deep up the principal’s ass this piece of paper should be shoved.

A wave of indignation swept over the girl, who turned to the monitor, imagining that she was talking directly to the vile creature who had decided to kick her out of her job without any warning, without even the slightest reason.

“Is it because I am young, friendly, and look happy, right Larysa? Or is it because the kids love me and their fathers check me out when they see me, joke and flirt? Only a dead man would want to look at such a monster like you, just because he would beg to look at anyone!”

Grabbing the mouse, Nastya couldn’t resist the urge to delete the file. Her hands were shaking with anger, so instead of closing it, she clicked on the minimize button. The girl’s jaw dropped. The resignation letter was covering an adult website. One of the videos was paused. The frozen frame was striking in its rawness—the girl was sprawled out on the bed, her flexible fingers, like small snakes, were penetrating deep into her young body, while her other hand was kneading her breasts. But it wasn’t what confused Nastya the most—it was the face with the expression of pure pleasure. It looked like her. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought it was her twin sister. But no, no, no…She was the only daughter in the family.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The girl sprang out of her chair, noticing that the page with the video had been bookmarked. First the resignation letter, and then this video. A hellfire was rising from the depths of her soul, wanting to burn the office, or at least shatter it into pieces. Nastya slammed her shoe against the cabinet under the desk. She heard the soft clink of glass on glass. With a nasty creak, the door opened, revealing the bottles inside.

“Booze! What other secrets do these walls keep? But it doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’m already fired.”

Sticking her hand inside, Nastya felt several bottles, picking out a sealed one. “Tequila,” she read the label. “Nice,” she thought, grimacing and taking a few sips. The more she drank, the more liberated she felt, the more cheerful the evil smile on her face became, and the bolder the thoughts that came into her head. She took another small sip and burst out into the resonant laughter that filled the office, feeling like she didn’t care about anything. Taking her smartphone out of her jacket pocket, she took a picture of the monitor that featured an incomplete letter next to the video.

“This is a souvenir for me. And for you…” muttered Nastya’s tongue which was a little unruly, “I’ll leave you something too.”

She sat down comfortably in the chair and took a sip from the bottle. Placing it between her legs, she yanked her blouse in different directions. The top buttons came undone. “Not enough,” she judged through the front camera of her smartphone and unbuttoned two more. First, she took a picture of herself from afar, and then left only her luscious young breasts in the frame, which were dressed in a light translucent bra.

“I’ll sign it like that, ‘In memory, without love.’” The girl laughed at her own wit and clung to the bottle. “But it won’t be enough for you. Not enough! How about this?”

Poking at the monitor with her hand which already had a tight grip on the bottle, she didn’t even realize that some of the booze spilled around her and started running down her leg. Watching the alcohol go to waste, she grew weary.

“Ugh, no, I’m not Salma yet. Today, I’m going to be a different character,” a motif from the movie she watched the day before surfaced from the depths of her memory. “Hey, Johnny, dear, make yourself comfortable, and let the fat, old hag choke on her own saliva.”

The girl exposed her left breast without stopping taking pictures of herself. Then she turned her attention to the right one, taking pictures of it from the most delicious angles. Returning the charms back into her bra, the girl returned to sucking on the bottle. Breaking through the layers of reality, images of the real world and movie scenes mixed in her head. Humming You Can Leave Your Hat On, Nastya got to her feet. Clutching her smartphone tightly, she threw her jacket off one shoulder, then the other. Her body swayed to the beat of the song, gaining momentum. Grabbing the pointer, she began to swing it, knocking off clerical stuff and everything that got in her way. Her legs were trembling, the mix of booze and heels made themselves apparent, and she ran to the window. Running her pointer across the closed matte yellow blinds, she peered through them into the street. Laughing, she took a selfie and immediately threw the extra weight out of her hands and pressed herself against the wall. Photos, photos, more photos. All the buttons on her blouse are unbuttoned, her sexy tummy moves smoothly to the beat of the music. With her buttocks pressed against the wall, Nastya leans forward to take a shot from below, catching all her delights in the photo, revealing the secrets from under her skirt. Moments from the movie popped up in her head, the chronology of the dance was getting confusing, and she turned on her own imagination to the maximum. On the way back to the table, she pulled off her skirt. Leaning on the edge, she lifted one leg up, making the most exuberant shot possible. The corded telephone, as much of a dinosaur as the owner of the office, came in handy. Wrapped in the wire, she would sink lower and then return to the previous position, seducing with the movements of her hips, swaying her rich buttocks. For comfort, the smartphone traveled from one hand to the other.

“Too many unnecessary things,” with these words, Nastya took off her bra, replacing it with a wire from the phone.

Jumping up with her knees on the table, she arched her back, biting her lip in ecstasy, masterfully rolled over, and laid down on the tabletop, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling of the office. Everything that had been on the table before flew down, except the monitor.

“Still not enough for you,” the girl growled, looking at the screen.

Leaping from the desk, she stomped on the papers she had thrown down with her shoes, tearing them up and making them impossible to read. In a flash, she was wearing only earrings and shoes. She picked up her jacket from the floor, remembering to capture every movement, bend, and curve of her naked body on camera, and threw her clothes on the chair. Sitting on top of them, she spread her legs, tempted, and seduced by the smartphone camera, she did not hesitate to repeat the frame on the monitor in detail. It was vulgar, but that made it all the more delicious. It snatched her out of the grip of reality and lifted her to heights never seen before.

In the midst of the fun, she felt as if something strange, alien, something inconsistent with the atmosphere of her personal party had appeared in the office. Lifting her head from the chair, she met the principal’s eyes. Larysa Mykhailivna, accompanied by two deputies, stood five steps away from the teacher. Nastya blinked her eyes, but the group of people did not disappear. They remained standing exactly where they were. Their jaws were lying open somewhere under their feet, revealing their poor inner world to a potential stranger. Estimating how far they were from the front door, the girl realized that they had entered quite a while ago and had enough time to appreciate the most palatable part of the show. The deputies were frantically fiddling with their paper folders. Thick, hot drops of sweat were dripping down their studious, illuminated foreheads in a waterfall. Periodically forgetting to swallow, they choked on their saliva. It was different for the principal, who stood there, composedly, as if she was unaffected by all that had just unfolded before her eyes. The only thing she couldn’t control was her breathing, which would either intercept her so that she couldn’t take a tiny breath, or speed up, flowing into a continuous stinging stream.

Having instantly sobered up, Nastya was overwhelmed by a tsunami of shame. Her young body, from her earlobes, to the halos on her nipples, all the way to the folds where her buttocks turn into her legs, immediately turned a bright scarlet. Feelings of shame descended like a heavy burden on the young shoulders, assuming the weight of infinite space. Jumping to her feet, the teacher, not finding anything better to say, brilliantly exclaimed.

“I brought my vacation application, but you’re not in your office. I decided to get some exercise while I was waiting.”

“I managed to notice,” Larysa Mykhailivna replied, still devouring her subordinate with her eyes.

Nastya felt extremely discomforted by the predatory gaze, which was frightening as hell. Reaching for the chair, she picked up her jacket. Her arm responded with the onset of a lingering pain. It was accompanied by a long, drawling ringing.

“Classes had ended an hour ago,” Nastya thought as she wrapped herself in her jacket, “is someone making a fuss or what? Argh, why is it so loud, as if under my ear.” The ringing was becoming unbearable, and Nastya shook her head to escape it and the agitated trio hungry for her beautiful body.

Pulling her head away from the table, the teacher started shaking it at a frantic speed. She was at home, her laptop staring back at her with a dark, exhausted monitor. Turning off the alarm, she straightened up, making a smacking noise with her drowsy mouth. A new day was beginning. It was time to get ready for school. “It’s a good thing my mom’s birthday has already passed.” Putting the checked workbooks in her bag, she caught herself thinking, “Wonder what is really in the cabinet under the principal’s desk?”