The Night School Director Chose Me at Thirty-Two

At thirty-two, I decided to finish high school. It was neither a heroic decision nor an act of redemption. It was simply that my husband had left six months earlier, the house felt too large, and I had too much time to fill out forms. Las Acacias Night School operated in the old neighborhood school building, the one that during the day housed teenagers in tight uniforms and, at dusk, opened its doors to office workers, mothers with grown children, and stragglers like me, women dragging along postponed plans.

The director, Don Aurelio, had been running the school for more than thirty years. Anyone in the neighborhood could tell you: widowed for a decade, vain, dressed in dark suits made of fine fabric, with a brand-new Chevrolet always parked in the same spot. He was well past sixty-five, carrying himself with the dignity of a man who knew he had money, authority, and a gaze that allowed itself to linger longer than was proper on the female students who interested him.

He chose me from the very first month.

I understood because every time I crossed paths with him in the hallways, I felt his eyes fixed on my waist, on the gray skirt of the adult uniform the school required, on the way my white blouse clung to my breasts. He wasn't the only one who looked—in a classroom where half of us were women approaching thirty, looks were something else, hungrier—but his had a different weight. It was the look of a man who was calculating.

“How is your second youth going, Mrs. Salazar?” he asked me one afternoon, stopping me in the middle of the corridor.

“Better than I expected, Don Aurelio.”

“That shows.”

And he stayed there, savoring the phrase, making no effort whatsoever to conceal where he was looking. I passed beside him and, without meaning to, let my elbow brush against his jacket. I felt him go still. I felt his breathing shorten. And I understood, in that instant, that it wouldn't be long before something happened.

He came up with the idea for the contest at the end of February. Queen of Las Acacias Night School, said the flyers that appeared pasted to every wall, every bulletin board, even the bathroom door. An election open to all female students, with a crown, a sash, and the promise of representing the school at that year's events. There was even an expense allowance that the director administered personally.

“It's ridiculous,” Cecilia, my desk mate, told me. She was an accountant who had dropped out of college years before and was now going back. “A beauty contest at a school for grown-ups. What is that old man thinking?”

I knew exactly what he was thinking. And despite everything my common sense told me, I entered.

***

I arrived at the director's office on a Wednesday, after classes had ended. Nearly all the school's lights were already off, and the hallways smelled of cheap disinfectant. I knocked twice. Don Aurelio opened the door with a smile that didn't surprise me.

“Come in, Renata. I've been waiting for you.”

On the desk was an enrollment form already prepared. He indicated the chair with a gesture, but then changed his mind and pointed to the side of the desk, the place where I would have to lean over to write. I set down my purse. I leaned over. I felt that he didn't move.

“Fill this out, please.”

I leaned a little farther than necessary. I knew my skirt was riding up. I knew he was watching. I didn't hurry. I didn't pull the hem back down, either. I filled out the form calmly, one letter after another, while I listened to him shift behind me, breathe more deeply, shift his weight from one foot to the other.

“A lot of girls have entered already, Don Aurelio?” I asked without looking up.

“Thirty-four.”

“Quite a competition.”

He placed both hands on the desk, one on either side of mine. His chest almost brushed my back.

“Competition is won on merit, Mrs. Salazar. And merit is demonstrated outside the classroom.”

I turned slowly until I was facing him, still leaning against the edge of the desk. I looked up at him from below. I smiled.

“And how is it demonstrated, Don Aurelio?”

“That depends on how much you want the crown.”

“I want it.”

“How much?”

I thought about it for three seconds. Not the three seconds I needed to decide, because the decision had already been made before I crossed the threshold of his office. They were the three seconds it took me to realize that I had been imagining exactly this scene for months.

“Whatever it takes.”

***

Don Aurelio locked the door. He lowered the blinds. Without taking his eyes off me, he loosened his tie. I was still leaning against the edge of the desk, my legs slightly crossed, my blouse opened two buttons farther than the school's regulations allowed.

“Stand up.”

I obeyed him. I stood in front of him with my arms at my sides.

“Take off your blouse.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

I started with the top button. I let him talk as I unbuttoned it.

“A woman like you shouldn't be finishing high school at thirty-two. A woman like you should be resting somewhere, where someone else pays for everything. Why are you here?”

“Because I like finishing what I start, Don Aurelio.”

“And I like starting what other people left half-finished.”

The blouse fell over the back of the chair. My bra was black, with lace along the upper edge. I had chosen it that morning knowing perfectly well what was going to happen at the end of the day.

“The skirt.”

I lowered the side zipper. I let the skirt slide down over my hips to the floor. I was left in a matching black bra and panties, and I knew from Don Aurelio's expression that he had been waiting years, perhaps decades, for a moment like this.

“Come closer.”

I moved closer until I felt the bulge of his trousers against my belly. He was a tall man, taller than he appeared in his jacket. He seized my waist with both hands, and those hands, which I had imagined would be clumsy, squeezed me with the firmness of someone who wasn't playing around.

He kissed me. With his tongue, slowly, like a man who had spent years being patient and was finally indulging himself. I answered with the same slowness. I wasn't going to give him haste—not yet. He squeezed me harder, dragged me a step against the desk, and let me feel how hard he was beneath his trousers. I ran my nails over the back of his neck, opened his mouth wider, and sucked his tongue with a voracity that tore a low moan from him.

“That's how I like you,” he murmured, his voice already rough. “Don't pretend to be delicate with me.”

He bit my lower lip, just a little, and then pulled my bra down over my shoulders. The straps fell, one and then the other, and the lace tangled around my arms for a moment before slipping away. He took one breast in his whole hand, weighed it, squeezed it, and ran his thumb over my nipple until it grew completely hard. I let out a sigh that turned into a moan when he licked the tip, wet and slow, in no hurry to get to anything else.

“You have beautiful breasts, Renata.”

“And you talk too much,” I shot back, though my voice was already breaking.

“I haven't even started yet.”

He lifted me slightly by the waist and sat me on the edge of the desk. The metal folder scraped my back. He moved between my legs and made me open them with his knees, spreading them wider until I was exposed before him. His fingers found the edge of my panties and pushed them aside with an almost insolent patience. The air struck my wet pussy all at once.

“Look at you.”

“How am I?”

“Soaking wet.”

A sound escaped my throat before I could stop it. Don Aurelio smiled. It was the smile of a man who had just confirmed what he had always suspected.

“I knew you were one of my kind, Renata.”

He slid in one finger. Then two. He moved them slowly, opening me from the inside with a filthy calm that made me squeeze my thighs against his sides while at the same time pushing them wider. He rubbed my clitoris with the pad of his free finger, without mercy, and I felt electricity climb my spine. I arched over the desk when he pushed my panties aside far enough to pull them all the way down, leaving me naked from the waist down, my pussy shining beneath the office lamp.

He bent over. He sucked my nipple with a calm that raised gooseflesh all the way to the nape of my neck, alternating his tongue with gentle teeth, while his fingers kept moving in and out of me with a wet sound that filled the office. I grabbed his hair and squeezed it, and he laughed against my skin.

“Don Aurelio,” I murmured.

“Aurelio. When we're in this office, I'm Aurelio.”

“Aurelio.”

“That's it.”

He made me stand with a slap to my hip and led me to the leather armchair at the back, the chair the female students glanced at whenever they entered his office. He sat down and opened his trousers just enough to pull out his cock, thick, veined, already hard and heavy. I knelt between his legs and lowered his zipper with both hands, slowly, looking up at him. I took him by the base, felt the heat of his skin, the steady pulse in my hand, and put him in my mouth as if it were the first time I had ever tasted anyone.

He was big. Too big for a distracted mouth. I sucked him from the tip, running my tongue along the wet rim, and he let out a growl that made me smile around his cock. I took him deeper, until my throat protested, and then he set the rhythm with a hand on the back of my head, pushing me gently—not violently, but not tenderly, either. I dug my nails into his thigh, licked his balls, came back up, and the sound he made when he felt me reach all the way down was an obscene sound, the sound of an old, satisfied man completely shattered by desire.

“That's it, Renata. That's it. Don't slow down.”

I sucked the tip until it was wet, glistening with saliva and my own hot breath. He grabbed my face with his free hand, held my jaw, and looked at me as if he were going to eat me. I kept going without pulling away until he asked me for a moment to breathe in the deepest voice I had ever heard from him.

“Stand up,” he said after several minutes.

He lifted me by the shoulders, turned me around, and placed my hands on the back of the armchair. He kissed my back, the base of my spine, my buttocks. Then he spread my legs wider with his knees and slid two fingers into my pussy to make sure I was still ready. I came away trembling when he removed the last scrap of my panties and left me naked, open, my ass tilted toward him and my pussy throbbing with anticipation.

Then I felt him settling in behind me, guiding himself with his hand, placing the head of his cock at my entrance and brushing me just once, from top to bottom, soaking me even more. I moaned, desperate for him to enter. And he did.

He entered with one thrust that left me breathless, slow at first because I was so tight, then deep, until he struck me inside with a hot weight that made me grip the back of the armchair. The sound of his flesh against mine was immediate, wet, brutal, and it tore a complaint from me that turned into a long moan.

“Aurelio,” I panted, clutching the back of the chair.

“Stay still. Don't move.”

He held me like that, buried to the hilt, for seconds that stretched out. Then he began to move. Slowly at first, withdrawing only slightly before plunging back in with a sharp impact that shook my hips. Then harder, deeper, with the strength of someone who had been waiting for that exact moment, in that exact office, with that exact woman, for months. Every thrust made me bounce against the leather chair, and he slipped a hand between my legs to rub my clitoris at the same time, forcing me to feel him inside and out, filling me completely. I moaned with my face buried in the back of the chair, my tits hanging, my pussy dripping over his hand, the leather, his fingers.

“That's it,” he told me through clenched teeth. “That's how you serve me.”

“Harder,” I begged, not recognizing my own voice.

He grabbed my hips and lifted them slightly to change the angle. His cock went even deeper, brushing a place that made me see white for a second. I felt the impact in my belly, my groin, my breathing. He punished me and celebrated me at the same time, fucking me with filthy precision, tearing louder and louder moans from me until I no longer cared if the entire empty building heard us.

“Do you want it, Renata?” he asked in my ear, sweating over my back. “Tell me if you want it.”

“Yes.”

“What do you want?”

“The crown,” I said breathlessly, my face burning. “And I want you to keep fucking me.”

I heard him laugh, a hoarse, satisfied sound. He spanked me, making me shudder, and kept fucking me, faster and faster, until the desk vibrated behind me and the leather of the armchair began to complain beneath our bodies. I was already on the edge, squeezing my pussy around him involuntarily, my legs and hands trembling.

“Come,” he ordered.

He didn't need to order me. The first spasm tore a muffled cry from me; the second folded me over the chair. I felt everything inside me contracting, felt the orgasm rise in short, hot waves that made me even wetter, while Aurelio kept pumping inside me, holding me, carrying me through the final tremors. When I finished coming, he was still hard, breathing like an animal behind me.

He turned me around without pulling his cock out, lifted one of my legs, and thrust again. Now he was fucking me face-to-face, standing, one of my legs raised over the edge of the chair and the school dress wrinkled on the floor. He kissed me violently, tongue against tongue, and gripped my waist to drive himself deeper, until I clenched my teeth from the sheer excess of it. I bit his mouth, scratched his neck with my nails, and he answered with a crooked smile and another thrust.

“Beautiful slut,” he told me, never stopping the movement of his hips.

The word struck me between the legs like a compliment. I felt the heat rising again, slowly but steadily, and wrapped both legs around his waist so I wouldn't lose him. He kept going, growing more and more disordered, until his breathing broke and he buried his cock in me one last time, rock-hard and pressed against me.

I felt him tense. I felt him grit his teeth. And then he came inside me in a long, thick, hot ejaculation that filled me to the depths and made me tremble from head to toe. He stayed still for a few seconds, still emptying himself, his forehead resting on my shoulder and his hand closed around my hip, while his semen throbbed inside me and dribbled out slightly when he finally pulled away.

When I left the school, it was nearly nine at night. The night watchman greeted me as if nothing had happened. I walked to the car with my legs still trembling and a smile that wouldn't go away.

The next day, Don Aurelio called me over the loudspeaker at the end of the last class.

“Mrs. Salazar, report to the principal's office.”

Cecilia looked at me as if she wanted to ask something. I returned her look with a gesture that said, “Later.”

When I entered the office, Aurelio was standing there with a sealed envelope in his hands.

“Renata, there's one more step.”

“One more step?”

“The school's Board of Directors. Twelve members. All men. Almost all my age. They want to meet you before they vote on the candidacy.”

I looked at him without understanding. Or understanding too much.

“And that means…?”

“It means whatever you want it to mean. If you want the crown, you meet them. If not, you remain just another student at the night school.”

I fell silent. I thought of Cecilia, who would ask questions the next day. I thought of my husband, who hadn't touched me the way this old man had touched me in fifteen minutes—not in six years. I thought of the twelve men on the Board. I thought that if I said no, I would spend the rest of my life wondering what might have happened.

“When?”

“The day after tomorrow. Boardroom. Eight at night.”

“I'll be there.”

Aurelio held my gaze for a second longer than necessary.

“Rise to the occasion, Renata. They trust my judgment.”

I left the office and, for the first time in a long while, felt that the crown was the least important thing. What mattered was what was about to begin. And that, at thirty-two, I was no longer the woman who had entered the school in March.