Lexington Black by Savannah Smythe Page B

Peter said
they didn't exist, and if they shaved, it would just look
weird.
    I would say that wanting pubes in your teeth
was weird. I mean, crunchy.
    The conversation would almost always head
round to my ideal man, and there was only one person I had in mind
for that role. In a school where secrets were hard to keep, this
was mine, the object of my lust. And because I was Lexington Black,
I aimed high. I aimed for the fucking top.

CHAPTER 8 - The Satyr Awakes
     
    Mr. Martyn joined the school the same year I
did. I remember sitting near the front of the school assembly. The
younger boys all sat on the floor, being kicked by the older ones
in the chairs behind them. I remember two things from that first
assembly. My ass, numb from all the kicking, and the tall,
brown-haired man with hawk-like stare, scowling at us in a way that
made my balls shrivel. The old Head had retired. He was known as a
kindly soul whom all the boys adored because he let them get away
with murder, but this new Head was the most terrifying man I had
ever seen. He wore a black suit and tie, as if going to a funeral,
and he wore his black robes with elegance. As he fixed each of us
with a glare we all shrank back as if to try to hide from his
steely gaze.
    We soon discovered he was a hard taskmaster,
and would give detentions for the slightest misdemeanors. He never
raised his voice, and because of that, he was all the more
frightening. The coldness in his tone as he chastised us in our
maths class was enough to ensure acquiescence. I was totally in awe
of him, but it wasn't until I realised I was gay that my admiration
took on a decidedly sensual piquancy.
    I wasn't particularly academic but I knew how
to bullshit almost from day one. And it helped being good at rugby.
My coach was frustrated with me because he knew I was better than I
was letting on, but I was happy to be in the B team, without the
total commitment needed to the game that the A's were expected to
have. I did get hauled up before Mr. Martyn a few times because of
unnecessary aggression on the field, and those were the best days
of all, because I knew I would end up in his office, alone, able to
breathe him in and bask in his disapproval. After all, any
attention was better than no attention at all.
    And yes, I was aware that he was married and
had five children, one of which was in the Grammar School, situated
not far from my college, but call it instinct, gaydar, whatever. I
just knew that he was susceptible. There were no rumours
surrounding him but maybe that was the reason. Anyone whiter than
the driven snow was bound not to be. I had met enough professional
men through my father to learn that. It's always the quiet ones
that have the darkest secrets.
    One day, I noticed that his office looked out
onto the running track. Groups of boys were in the middle,
practicing athletics, lithe and agile in small white shorts and
tee-shirts. As he was berating me for my lack of sportsmanship, I
decided that maybe I was more suited to track events. When the
rugby season ended, I signed up for athletics, and to get into some
kind of training, I began to run a few laps before breakfast. I
knew he was in his office by eight every morning, and his desk was
at right angles to the window so that he could gaze out onto the
grounds if he needed inspiration for tricky end-of-term
reports.
    I was a long-distance runner, so I was put in
for the 1500 metres at the school's end -of-year sports event. That
meant I wanted to practice every moment I could. I lost count of
the laps I ran around that damned track, hoping to see his face
looking out at me. I would see him sitting at his desk but not once
did he turn around. Not one damned time. It didn't stop me hoping
though. Ever the fucking optimist, I was.
    I won the Gold for the 1500 metres that year
though, and the Sportsman Of The Year trophy as well for good
measure. That is what comes of having an unquenchable lust. Channel
it in the right way and