The New Art Teacher

'Damn this stupid suit' Gerard cursed aloud as he hopped around madly on one foot, the other stuck in the tight nylon leg fitting that seemed to love to trip him over.

At the end of all the races, the teachers were to verse each other in swimming. Friendly competition, but some of the teachers looked buff, and Gerard didn’t want to chicken out. He really hoped no-one had brought a video camera, record this and post it onto YouTube. He did not need the publicity.

"Uh. Gerard, need help?" A voice from behind him asked, humour evident in his voice.

Gerard whipped my head around, wobbling like a one legged spider in an effort to stay balanced.

It was Frank, innocently standing behind him, an amused glint in his eye, and wearing nothing but these tight speedo undies.

Very tight, in Gerard's opinion.

"I haven't gone swimming in a long time. So yes, I do need help." Gerard admitted guiltily, a smile of embarrassment in his face.

Meanwhile, inside his head were rolling some pretty dark and dirty thoughts, like a film strip, repeating itself.

Gerard was wearing speedo undies as well, beneath his suit. He was pretty well built, with the muscles in his arms clearly visible, and a small six pack was just visible. His speedos just stopped at his waist.

Frank growled mentally in his head.

Why was Gerard so shy? Why couldn't he just not wear anything? Curse Shyness!

Frank walked forward, then bent down to Gerard's left leg, not mentioning the fact that he did take a sneaky glance upwards, and was impressed by what he saw.

"You put your left leg in...here" Frank took hold of Gerard's left leg, and quickly slipped it into the tight leg pocket.

"Now, the other leg." Frank quickly repeated the gesture again.

"Yay. Finally, some progress." Gerard managed to cheer.

His heart was beating faster all of a sudden as Frank smoothed out his thighs, running his hand up and down, all around, making sure that there were no wrinkles not to reduce streamline, thus losing speed.

“Now that’s all good, let’s go on to your top. Left arm in here.”

He slid in Gerard’s left arm into the suitable pocket, and repeating it to his other arm, meanwhile slyly running his hand over Gerard’s stomach, trailing a finger during the move.

Gerard could feel his demons begin to stir within him.

‘Run away Gerard. Run away NOW’ His brain screamed at him as Frank began to stroke his arms, ‘checking’ for any malfunctions.

“Stay Gerard.” His heart said.”Enjoy it while ya can.”

Frank had started to sink lower to ‘make sure’ that everything was in place, when suddenly;

“Last call for all 18-year or 19 year males freestyle, please proceed to the marshalling area immediately. Last call.”

Only the last calls reached the bathroom speakers.

Frank roared with frustration inside his head. Now, of all times!

“Is it ok?” Gerard asked, confused by his hesitation.

“It’s my race.” Frank replied. “Last call.”

“You better go. Good luck.” Gerard told him. Frank nodded once, zipped up the back of Gerard’s suit, before quickly running to the marshalling area, his feet slapping against the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.

Gerard rested his head against a cool marble tiled wall, his hands pressed either side of his head.

“What are you doing Gerard?” He asked himself. “Seriously, what are you doing?”