Mentoring A Wannabe Hot Wife by HottieOlwen..,
Author’s introduction: What follows is an imagining of what might occur when an inexperienced wannabe meets a very experienced Hot Wife and an exponent of female domination. Some characters might be based on real life people. I’ll leave that to my readers’ imagination! But anyone mentioned in this tale is over the age of eighteen, and all sexual acts described are consensual. Please consider rating and commenting on this story when you have read it. Thanks.
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My anniversary fell on a Friday that year. It was coming up to the end of the school term, and things were beginning to wind down, so I was able to plan to leave school more or less on time for once. Both staff and pupils were looking forward to the six week long summer holiday. In anticipation of a night of celebration, I’d rung Richard, my husband, and he’d confirmed that he’d booked a table for two at my favourite restaurant a few miles away from where we lived. I’m Olwen Simpson, by the way, deputy head teacher and head of the English department of the school where I teach.
Earlier in the day, on a whim, I’d decided to get my hair done, so I had phoned my hairdresser to try and get an appointment. The salon was owned and run by an old pupil of mine. She’d been a bit of a wild child when she was in school, much to the dismay of her parents, who had held great hopes that Cheryl would eventually follow either her father into a career in the law as a solicitor, or her mother, who was a highly respected consultant surgeon. Cheryl took none of the classes that I taught, but I knew of her as a result of some of her more outrageous deeds, which led to regular meetings between us, when she’d be sent to me to explain why she’d broken yet another school rule. Cheryl’s parents were frequently summoned to school to hear of their daughter’s misdemeanours. They would be very disappointed in Cheryl, express support for whatever action I chose to take, and offer totally unrealistic expectations that their daughter would change her ways and her subjects, and eventually go to university.
Unfortunately for them, Cheryl’s interests lay more in flaunting her very well developed body to any of the boys who were interested, and introducing her fellow pupils to the joys of smoking. She consistently pushed the school rule boundaries to their limit, and on several occasions I found myself having to threaten her with suspension if she continued to rebel.
I felt something of a fraud when, on one occasion, she was sent to me for smoking. The young member of staff was horrified to have discovered Cheryl smoking a rather large, very expensive Cuban cigar. It turned out that she’d stolen it from her mother, who had them imported at great expense. As a cigar smoker myself, I was jealous (it was way out of my price bracket), but I also felt something of a fraud. It was well known in the school that Mrs. Simpson smoked cigars. I gave Cheryl a mild ticking off, told her to be more circumspect in her smoking habits, and gave her a week of detention.
“You can do some revision in those subjects you want to take next year,” I told her. “You might not want to go to university, but it will help you get a job in hair and beauty if you can show that you have studied the basic fundamentals and that you understand them.”
Cheryl was hardly an academic, but she’d done her detention and worked hard at those subjects that interested her. When she left school at eighteen, she walked straight into a job at the local hairdressers salon. As a leaving present, the cheeky little minx gave me a box of extremely expensive cigars. I rationed myself to one a week, and they lasted me almost a year.
Cheryl proved herself to be an excellent hairdresser. She increased the turn-over of the salon, and after a few years, Miss Lewis, the owner, decided to retire, to enjoy the profits of her much expanded business. Cheryl persuaded her parents to buy the salon for her. She changed the name, modernised the premises and was soon doing a roaring trade.
I’ve always wanted to support local enterprise, so I had been having my hair done there long before Cheryl started working in the salon. I saw no reason to stop patronising the business when Miss Lewis retired and as Cheryl remembered me, I was usually able to get a last-minute appointment if I needed one.
Cheryl herself answered the phone when I called from school
“I’m sorry to do this again, Cheryl,” I began, “but it’s my anniversary today and I’m going out to celebrate tonight. Do you think you can fit me in sometime after school, please?”
“Of course, Mrs. Simpson,” she replied, forgetting once again that I’d asked her on more than one occasion to call me Olwen. I was not her teacher any more, after all, and ‘Mrs. Simpson’ made me feel a hell of a lot older than my fifty three years.
I heard her riffing through her appointment book.
“Um… I’ve got nothing before five o’clock,” she said eventually. “I can do you then, or if you want to wait for Lizzie, she won’t be free until a quarter to six.”
Lizzie was my usual hairdresser, and I wondered if Cheryl knew her nickname, given to her by some of my more exotic friends. She was known as Lizzie the Lezzie by many of the people who patronised a very exclusive club on the outskirts of our town. Lizzie liked nothing better than a good, sound beating before being fucked with the biggest strap-on that her current companion possessed.
“That might be pushing it a bit,” I replied. “I’ll have you at five if that’s OK?”
Cheryl giggled at the innuendo and replied, “I’ll fit you in at five o’clock,” and I heard her giggle again. I remembered having to reprimand her for humiliating a fellow pupil when she was in school. She’d been telling anyone who would listen that the boy possessed a less that average sized cock and that she would be able to fit him inside herself and still have room for a dildo.
“Thanks, Cheryl,” I said, ignoring the chance to tell her that if only she had known it, I would have loved the chance for her to fit anything she liked into me. Did I mention that I’m bi-sexual and I frequently bat for both sides? No? Well I am, and I do!
I got to the hairdressers on time, having managed to leave school only half an hour after the end of the school day. Cheryl was sitting at the reception desk, talking to someone on the phone. She smiled at me as I walked in, and spoke into the receiver.
“As I’ve told you, we are extremely busy. It really is no good phoning to ask for a same day appointment. I’d recommend ringing at least a couple of days before you want to come in.”
Cheryl rolled her eyes at me, and pointed to a chair in front of a washbasin. I took off my coat, hung it on the coat rail and sat down. In the next chair, a woman was having her hair washed by Lizzie the Lezzie.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Simson,” she said formally. “You’ve finished school early.”
“It’s my anniversary,” I replied.”I’m going out for a meal this evening.”
Lizzie winked lewdly at me and pushed her tongue into her cheek a few times, making it look as if she had something long and thick in her mouth. I understood the implication, and grinned at her, nodding and winking back.