Roots of Outrage. John Davis Gordon
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an opportunity to get her evaluation of them. Tell her to come around whenever she has time, Luke. I won’t disturb her.’
That afternoon Luke and Justin fetched the horses and as they casually cantered past the hostel Luke just happened to spy Miss Rousseau sitting on the verandah, marking books. He dismounted.
‘Miss Rousseau, my father is very grateful for your offer to type up the journals, and of course you may make a copy for yourself, but could you possibly come to our house to do it because he doesn’t want copies lying around because they’re so personal?’
‘But of course,’ Miss Rousseau said earnestly.
Oh joy! ‘And,’ he blurted on, ‘my mother suggests you come on the afternoons she plays golf so she doesn’t disturb you. That’s Mondays and Wednesdays, Miss Rousseau.’ (The days his sister had hockey practice). ‘And,’ he blurted on, ‘if you’d like to have a swim, bring your costume …’
‘Well, I’ll be there!’
He galloped all the way home. He’d done it! He’d contrived to get Miss Rousseau alone! He just had to lock himself in his bedroom again and get rid of his hard-on.
Oooh, the agony of waiting for Monday … That Saturday he played a suicidal rugby match, to roars of applause from the grandstand, where Miss Rousseau sat. ‘Brilliant game, Luke.’ Brilliant … ? In his sound senses he tried to hammer it into himself that nothing would happen on Monday, but with all these erections it was possible to imagine anything. The sheer eroticism of having Miss Rousseau alone in the house! Would she have a swim? Would they have tea together? Damn right they would! Would she sometimes ask him to help her decipher his great great grandfather’s handwriting? Would she … walk around the garden with him? Would she bring her swimming costume? Would it be a bikini? Please let it be a bikini …!
And it surpassed his wildest dreams. Not only did they have tea together, not only did she want to see the garden, not only did she call him to decipher his great great grandfather’s handwriting sometimes … but she did bring her swimming costume! And it was a bikini! Oh, the bliss of having tea with Miss Rousseau, just the two of them, like two adults – he had dredged up a stockpile of tricky historical points to talk about. Oh, the bliss of bending over the journals beside her (the sweet scent of her) deciphering his great grandfather’s handwriting. And Oooooh Miss Rousseau in her bikini… those lovely long legs, those ooooh-so-rounded hips and oh those tits … But how was he going to hide this hard-on?! And after she packed up the typing at five o’clock and drove off back to the hostel in her old Chevrolet he stood in the toilet thinking, This is where she pulled her panties down. This is where she placed her beautiful bare bum … And he just wanted to smother the seat in kisses.
It surpassed his wildest dreams when, after her fourth visit, his mother announced: ‘That nice Miss Rousseau telephoned today and asked if she could possibly hire one of the horses during the school holidays – she’s a keen horsewoman. Of course I said she could ride them any time free, but she asked if you would go with her the first time, until she’s familiar with her mount.’
Would he go with her… ? ‘Okay, Mother.’
‘Please don’t use those dreadful Americanisms, son. And, she had the highest praise for you. “Quite a remarkable historian”, she said. And that you’ll go a long way in life.’
Quite a remarkable historian?! Well she ain’t seen nothin’ yet! Go a long way? He would go all the way to the ends of the earth on his hands and knees over broken glass for Miss Rousseau …
It seemed an eternity waiting for the mid-year school holidays. And then Miss Rousseau surpassed his wildest wild dreams again. When they dismounted at the reservoir outside town and sat down under the trees, she gave him her creamy smile and said: ‘I think that you can stop calling me Miss Rousseau, Luke. Lisa will do fine when we’re alone. After all, we are partners in crime.’
Lisa! When we’re alone! Partners in crime?
‘What crime, Miss Rousseau?’
‘Lisa.’
Oh … ‘Lisa.’ It was the most wonderful name in the world.
She smiled. ‘Fraud? Copyright contravention? Your father did not give me permission to make a copy of those journals, did he?’
Luke was mortified. Blushing. ‘How do you know?’
‘When I phoned your mother about riding she thanked me for the typing and apologised that your father wouldn’t allow a copy to be made because he wants to publish them one day.’ She smiled. ‘Why did you lie to me, Luke?’
He swallowed. ‘Because … you’re a historian, and … and you deserve it.’
She grinned. ‘Why do I deserve it, Luke?’
‘Because you’re –’ (he wanted to blurt ‘the most beautiful’) ‘– the best teacher I’ve ever had.’
‘An apple for the teacher?’
‘No, Miss Rousseau.’ He wished the earth would open.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘And Lisa, please.’
‘No, not an apple for the teacher. Lisa.’
She smiled. ‘The teacher? I’m only twenty-one, you know, Luke. Only four years older than you.’
‘Yes, I know …’ Luke croaked. ‘Lisa,’ he added.
‘And I’m not really a teacher, you know. I only got my B.A. last year, I haven’t done my teaching diploma yet.’ She paused. ‘And d’you know what?’
‘What?’ he croaked. ‘Lisa,’ he added.
‘I’ve decided I don’t want to teach kids, Luke. Next year I’m going back to university to do my M.A. And then a doctorate. I want to teach at university level – teaching minds like yours.’
Minds like his?! Not kids … !
‘You’ve no idea how bored I’ve been in this town, Luke.’
Goddesses get bored? ‘Really?’
‘Really. In fact …’ She paused, then grinned at him. ‘Can you keep a secret, Luke?’
A secret from Miss Rousseau?!
‘Promise,’ he said. ‘Lisa.’
‘In fact –’ she smiled her mischievous creamy smile – ‘the only stimulating thing that’s happened to me this year has been you and those journals.’ Miss Rousseau looked at him with a twinkle in her eye: ‘You and your riding past the hostel every Friday. To impress me? And undressing me with your eyes in the classroom. And – ’ her smile widened – ‘your monstrous erections in the swimming pool.’
Luke didn’t know whether he wanted to lunge at her or the earth to swallow him up. Monstrous erections? His heart was pounding and he was blushing furiously and he couldn’t think of anything to say except: ‘I’m sorry.’
She grinned widely. ‘Oh don’t be sorry – it’s very pleasing.’
Pleasing?! That could only mean one thing! Oh God he didn’t know what he dare do!
Miss Rousseau smiled. ‘Are you a virgin, Luke?’
He couldn’t believe this was happening. All beyond imagination. He blushed. ‘Yes …
She smiled. ‘Well, Luke? I seem to have taught you all the history you need. What shall we do about what you don’t know?’
Luke’s heart was hammering, his ears were ringing, his face on fire, his stomach was faint, his legs trembled. ‘I – I don’t know, Miss Rousseau.’
‘Lisa.’ Miss Rousseau smiled.