Brittney, the Tapgirl Princess

When Alison got ready to meet her boss Principal Blake Martin for dinner Saturday evening, she decided she would dress conservatively and be a little more demure and reserved than she'd been the night before. It's not that Friday evening was distasteful to her. She had enjoyed his company a lot although it did feel uncomfortable going to bed with him in the room where his wife would normally be. Talking earlier that day with Brittney made her think that a more cautious approach would be better for this evening. So although she wore a black dress with very thin shoulder-straps, it was knee-length and came up fairly high in front. On her feet were a pair of tall, 3-inch heel patent leather boots, but these did not have the metal taps that were on almost all her other shoes.

When Alison got to the restaurant, Blake was waiting for her in the lounge. She walked over to him, and he noticed, because it was so unusual for Alison, that her footsteps made no noise at all on the tile floor. He asked her if she wanted a drink before they got their table, and she declined. Before ordering their meals, their conversation was somewhat formal, almost as if they were doing business in the school office. Blake tried to loosen her up with a few jokes, staying away from any that were off-color, but it didn't seem to have much of an effect. Blake asked if there was anything wrong. Alison shook her head from side to side.

Blake decided at that point that Alison must be testing him to make sure that he liked her for something else besides the sex they had the night before. So from that point on, he began treating her with all the charm he could muster. He complimented her on the way she looked, and he managed to stifle a comment about his disappointment that she'd worn boots without metal taps. He suggested she might like the Coquille St. Jacques for her entré—a dish he'd had there before and that happened to be the most expensive item on the menu. He ordered a bottle of Pillot Chassagne-Montrachet, the best French white wine in the house. When the wine was brought to their table, he toasted her as "the best reason to work at Forest Glen High," and "To our friendship." He asked her more about her own life growing up, building on what he'd learned the night before. He asked her for her views about current local and national issues and shared his own, careful not to contradict hers but to build on them.

By the time Alison had finished her third glass of wine and a chocolate flambéed desert, she was much more relaxed and ready to enjoy herself. When the dance band started up at the club next door, they could hear the music in the restaurant.

"How about we go over to the 21-Club next door?" Blake suggested. "Do you enjoy dancing?"

"Yes. Sure!" replied Alison. "I love to dance."

So for the next three hours, almost until midnight, Blake and Alison danced and drank their way back into each other's arms, picking up where they'd left off the night before. Occasionally, he would use his cell phone to see if his wife had tried to reach him at home, but there were no messages.

"Tonight, can we go to my place instead?" asked Alison. "I felt somewhat uncomfortable at your house last night."

"Yes, that was pretty stupid of me to take you there," agreed Blake. "I called my wife today and told her that I was going to bed early tonight because I was going fishing in the morning with a buddy, so I don't think I'll be getting any calls at home at least until tomorrow afternoon." After a respectable hour of avoiding alcohol so they'd be in a position to drive back to town, the two of them walked outside into the cool night air and into their separate vehicles. Blake made one last check for messages on his home phone, and he pronounced himself safe. He followed Alison's directions and arrived at her apartment building right behind her car.

Because Alison wasn't expecting the evening to progress to this point, she hadn't cleaned up her apartment at all. There were clothes and magazines all over the living room. But by this point, both of them were ready for bedroom action, and they walked right past the mess and into Alison's bedroom. Love making was much better for both of them this night. Despite her initial reservations, by the end of the evening Alison had become totally comfortable with what they were doing. Within five minutes of their getting under the covers, Blake had stroked and sucked her clitoris until she was in agony with the wildest orgasm she'd had in a month, not since she'd gone out with the baseball coach, Jack Youngblood, just after she'd bleached her hair platinum. Then Alison did him one better and gave Blake the best blow job he'd had since early in his marriage. Then, during the night, Blake awoke and gently began caressing Alison's breasts, and soon they were engaged in a prolonged intercourse, much more satisfying than the quick and awkward one they'd had the night before.

In the morning, they slept late and Alison, up first, made omelets, toast, and coffee. After breakfast they took an easy stroll in the brisk morning air, Blake still dressed in his dating-and-dancing clothes from the night before. Alison, making up for her silent footwear of the previous evening, had on a pair of flats with size #7 Eagle heel plates that made more noise than any other pair of shoes she had. Then they said their goodbyes and spent the rest of their Sunday regrouping themselves for the work week ahead.

On Monday, Brittney came into the office before 2nd period to ask Alison about how Saturday night went with Mr. Martin, and she was relieved that the stress she'd unintentionally created in Alison at the mall on Saturday afternoon didn't ruin her evening. Brittney also asked Alison if she'd heard any talk about how Mr. Hawkins was going to dump on Susan Wilms, but nothing about that had come up yet, at least in her earshot.

"If I do hear anything, I will be sure to let you know," Alison told her.

Another visitor to Alison's desk that morning was her one-time date, Coach Jack Youngblood. Alison, still feeling good about her weekend, was in a particularly playful mood, and Coach Youngblood picked up on that and started flirting with her, holding her hands and then actually sneaking a kiss on the nape of her neck. Just then Mr. Martin came out of his office and noticed the two of them apparently in a romantic moment. He glared at Alison, and then turned around and went back into his office.

Over the next couple of days, whenever Mr. Martin happened to see Alison chatting and joking around with a male teacher or even a student—and that happened several times each day—he would frown or glare, and annoyance would show on his face. One time when she was talking with Jack Youngblood again, Blake shouted at her to come into his office, but when she obeyed, he had only a request that she refill his cup of coffee.

Then, on Tuesday, after school, he and Alison had a small flare-up around some paperwork he claimed she had filled out incorrectly. Alison was getting a little angry about Blake's attitude towards her, so she thought she'd better say something to clarify his intentions. When it seemed like everyone had gone for the day, Alison knocked on Blake's door, and when he invited her in, instead of sitting down on the interview chair like she usually did when she was getting instructions from him, she walked straight up to him.

"Blake," she began. "What's gotten into you the past couple of days? You've been really spouting off at me. I thought after last weekend, this would be a really nice week between us."

"Well, Alison," he countered. "I might say the same about you! I thought after last weekend, you'd treat me a little differently around here."

"How am I supposed to treat you?" she asked. "What do you want me to do? Put my arms around you and follow you around like a puppy?"

"Well, no, but that doesn't mean you should be putting your arms around other men here?"

"Like who have I done that to?"

"Like Jack Youngblood, for instance," he answered.

"I didn't have my arms around him, and anyway, even if I did what's wrong with that? You want to treat me like I'm your property?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, no, but I thought that after last weekend, you'd pay more attention to me in the office, and not go 'round flirting with all the boys and the male teachers."

Alison was a little surprised by this show of possessiveness, not a trait she'd seen in Blake before now. But she figured this conversation wasn't getting anywhere, so she thought she'd just make a quick exit. Maybe Blake would cool off over night. "Well, I don't know that I flirt with all the boys, but o.k., whatever. Good night, Blake. See you in the morning."

Their little spat made Alison go into a little funk, and on Wednesday morning she didn’t feel any better. She wore quiet shoes (sneakers this time), which she tended to do when she was unhappy about things. She politely greeted all the students and the teachers who came into the office for things they needed to get from her or questions they needed answered, but she treated everyone with a little more dispatch and seriousness than usual. Meanwhile, she saw that Blake was watching over her every move. The door to his office was open wider than usual and he'd positioned himself to have a clear view of her various conversations with people at the office counter.

This was not the Blake she'd been with over the weekend, or even the Blake she'd known last week and before. By the end of the day, she'd about had it with him. She happened to see Brittney Davis walking out of the school building, so she called out to her in a loud whisper through her open window.

"Brittney! I need to talk with you. I'll call you in about an hour, o.k.?" When Alison finally got off work and got into her car and started driving home, she immediately put in a call to Brittney on her cell phone.

"Brittney, Blake is really acting strange this week. He was so nice over the weekend, and we had such a great time Saturday night—and great sex too! I don't understand. He's being incredibly possessive towards me, like he owns me or something. I don't think I want to be in a relationship with him. I don't know. So do you still want me to say something to him about Mr. Hawkins and Susan, or has that blown over?"

"Shit, Alison, I'm really sorry about how Blake's treating you. I didn't think he was such a wimp! But, no, Susan's still in trouble. She told me yesterday that Hawkeye threatened her personally that if she didn't stop socializing with us students, he would get her fired. What a shithead he is!

"But," continued Brittney, "I don't want to get you personally involved in this. You'd end up losing your job. I just want your o.k. for me to talk to Mr. Martin myself. I didn't want to do that as long as you wanted to keep your affair going, but if that's not going to happen then I think we can use that to make things right for Susan—and, fuck, for me too! I don't want to lose my ticket into those bars and to the guys we meet there!"

The next morning, Brittney sauntered into school in the toughest looking outfit she could put together— almost like a goth girl. She had on black lipstick, and wore black jeans and a black men's shirt (which of course made her platinum hair stand out even more). And on her feet she had on her new heavy hiking boots with double horseshoe heel plates and five taps around the sole of each boot.

About five minutes into second period, Brittney got up from her seat in Mr. Wilson's algebra class and walked towards the door.

"Where are you going, Miss Davis?" shouted Mr. Wilson.

"I've got some business to take care of," she replied in her sassiest voice.

"Well, you can do your business after class." Brittney kept walking, her loud steel heel plates getting the attention of everyone in the room. "In fact, if you don't come back to your seat, I'm going to have you sent to the office."

"Well, Mr. Wilson, actually that's where I'm going. I've got an appointment to talk with Mr. Martin." Brittney looked back at her teacher, made a huge grin, and turned and marched out of the room.

When she got to the office, she asked Alison if Mr. Martin was in and what kind of mood he was in.

"Oh, yeah, he's in there. I don't think he's speaking to me, at least not more than he has to."

"Well, I'll give him something to think about," said Brittney. "Would you tell him I want to talk to him about something really important?"

Alison called him on the intercom. "Mr. Martin? There's a student here to see you and she says it's really important…. Uh, huh, it's Brittney Davis, the girl who does the taps checking." Then, turning to Brittney, she holds her hand over the phone, and whispered, "He wants to know what it's about. What shall I tell him?"

"Just tell him its about Hawkeye. He'll know why I'm here."

"Uh," said Alison into the phone. "She says its about Mr. Hawkins. That's all she told me." She listened for Mr. Martin's response and turned to Brittney. "Mr. Martin said he could see you now." She hung up the phone, and whispered to Brittney, "Good luck, sweetie."

Mr. Martin came to the door, opened it, and let Brittney in, taking the opportunity to glare at Alison one more time. The noise of Brittney's steel-tapped boots reverberated in the otherwise quiet office. This distracted Mr. Martin momentarily and he started to think about Alison again, whose metal taps had become central to the attraction he felt towards her. But then he regained control of his thoughts.

As Brittney sat down in the chair offered to her, Mr. Martin started to speak. "You said you wanted to talk about Mr. Hawkins. By any chance does this also have to do with Ms Wilms?"

Brittney nodded, "Yeah, sort of. Mr. Hawkins is out to get her, isn't he?"

"Well," continued Mr. Martin. "Mr. Hawkins has spoken to Ms Wilms about this. She has been seen socializing with you and other students in the evening including taking you to a place where alcohol is served—a bar, in other words. You know, Brittney, teachers aren't supposed to be doing that. It's a clear violation of her contract and beyond that I can't speak about it because it's a personnel matter."

"Well, Mr. Martin, I don't really want to talk much about Ms Wilms except to say that she's a wonderful teacher and a true friend, and there are hundreds of kids at Forest Glen who feel like I do and would go to the end of the world to help prevent anything bad happening to her."

"Well, then, Brittney, thank you for your opinion, but I can't help you any more about that."

"Mr. Martin, I have something else to say."

"About Mr. Hawkins?"

"Well, sort of. It's also about you."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that principals aren't supposed to be having affairs with their secretaries, and …"

"Hold it a minute, young lady!" Mr. Martin interrupted. "What are you insinuating?"

"What I'm insinuating, sirrrr," she said in an exaggerated way, "is that you are probably breaking your contract yourself, or if you're not doing that you're certainly breaking your marriage vows…."

Mr. Martin interrupted again. He slammed a book down on his desk, picked up his phone, and started to approach the door to the receptionist's office.

"Wait! Stop!" shouted Brittney. "If you're trying to involve Alison in this don't bother! She doesn't know anything about my knowing about this. I learned about it from a couple of friends, one who saw you and her together at a bar on Friday evening and another who happens to live next door to Alison in the apartments and knows you stayed over there Saturday night."

Mr. Martin was quite flustered and didn't know quite what to say. More subdued, he spoke to Brittney in almost a whisper, "Brittney, what is the point you are trying to make? Why did you come here to accuse me of these things—which, by the way, I deny. I'm just trying to figure out why you are saying this to me."

"Well, Mr. Martin, I'm glad you asked. See, I don't think it would be right for Ms Wilms to get in trouble for socializing with me if you didn't get in trouble for doing what you did with Miss Dexter," as Brittney referred to Alison, hoping to distance herself from her actual friend, at least in Mr. Martin's mind.

"But,…"

"Wait," continued Brittney, unwilling to be interrupted at this point. "I'm not trying to get you in trouble. I really don't want to have to do that. But it's also important to me—and to hundreds of students here—that nothing be done against Ms Wilms. She's a great teacher, and, as I've said, lots and lots of us students look up to her. She was the first teacher at the school to put taps on her shoes which shows how well she relates to us students, doesn't it? Plus, you have to admit, she's one of the cutest women on this campus, isn't she?"

Mr. Martin was hardly thinking much about how cute Susan Wilms was at that point, nor even how much he liked hearing her walk around the school in the loud steel-tipped heels she usually wore. He was thinking about his own career and his stature in this small town—not to mention his own marriage! He was also thinking that he really did want to keep his private affair going with Alison, if only he could get her stop flirting with other men and boys at school. He was quiet for a moment after Brittney finished talking.

"Miss Davis," he began. "I'm not normally in the business of making deals with students, but you do present me with a situation where maybe we both could get what we want. What I would like from you is a commitment not to continue to see Ms Wilms socially—that means no bars, no Saturday walks in the woods, no evenings at her apartment—and also that you can prevail on other students—and I have one particular young boy in mind, someone who I understand you know very well yourself—to stay away from her as well. You can all be friends here at school; I have no objection to that. But socializing with Ms Wilms, or indeed with any teacher away from school grounds, is to be strictly off limits. As long as you can maintain that decorum yourself and among your friends as well, then I will prevail upon Mr. Hawkins to drop his plans to discipline Ms Wilms—that, and of course, as long as you completely put out of your head and totally out of your mouth any mention of any presumed relationship or other impropriety between myself and Miss Dexter. Is that absolutely clear?"

Brittney hadn't planned on that other requirement—about not being able to go bar-hopping with Susan anymore. But, for once, she thought about someone else besides herself, and thought, gee, maybe I've saved Susan's job! So this sounded pretty good. But she couldn't resist one last ploy.

"Mr. Martin," she said slowly. "I think that basically this is a pretty good solution for you, and for Ms Wilms—no I think this will be really great for her—but for me and my friends it's kind of a mixed situation. I mean we get to keep her as a teacher and as someone we can go to for advice in her room, but if I agree to this, me and my friends are going to have to give up socializing with one of our best friends and missing out on lots of fun that we've been having and that hasn't hurt anyone. I mean I don't have a boyfriend or a spouse that I'm cheating on!" (She thought she would rub the point in about his marital transgression, just in case he'd forgotten what she had over him.)

"Don't…" Mr. Martin began, but again Brittney wouldn't be interrupted.

"No, wait! I want to make one more suggestion for you to consider—something that I think would be a lot of fun—something I know that the kids would like a lot, and probably some of the teachers would too. It's on a different topic altogether. I was thinking of a way to bring the students and the teachers together as more of a community—you know, a school spirit kind of thing where we all do the same thing together? Well, what I'm thinking of is this: You know how us kids have enjoyed walking around the school with metal taps on our shoes, and even a lot of the teachers have started to do that too—Miss Allen, and Mrs. Rogers and Ms Jackson and Ms Abrams—you know, lots of the teachers have. But not all of them have. Like I don't think you have taps on any of your shoes, do you?"

"No, I don't actually," said Mr. Martin, although he'd thought of putting taps on his shoes because he thought that might draw Alison closer to him.

"Well, what I want to suggest—and really this is just a suggestion cuz I'm going to go along with the agreement you talked about anyway—but what I think would be really cool would be an "all taps day" or even an "all taps week" where everyone at school—the teachers, the kitchen and custodial help, and the students of course—would all wear metal taps on their shoes. You could even make it a requirement, like how we check taps at the door for scratchy surfaces? We could check people's shoes that day to make sure that they had taps on them. And if they didn't, we could have John Baker—he's someone in my class who has a portable setup to put taps on people's shoes—anyway, John Baker could put the taps on for free right outside the school doors. People wouldn't have to wear them after the "all taps day" was over—we'd take them off if they didn't want them on their shoes anymore. But I think a lot of non-tap-wearers would decide they liked them on their shoes and keep wearing them the rest of the school year. Anyway, that's my idea."

"Brittney, you sure are quite a girl!" Mr. Martin thought about how this would be a good way to explain to his wife why he had suddenly put taps on his work shoes. He also smiled when he thought of requiring Mr. Hawkins to wear taps on his shoes—that old fart would just about crap in his pants! "O.K., I like it. I will ask Alison, er Miss Dexter, to check the schedule and see what day next week would be best. Heck, though, why not make it a full week, like you suggested. All right, next week will be "All Taps Week at Forest Glen High." I hereby appoint you Tap Mistress for the Week, and it will be your job to organize this and make sure that it works. Now, are we friends again?"

And that is how Susan Wilms got off the hook that was almost thrown her way, how for one week everyone at school wore metal taps on their shoes—even Hawkeye—and how Blake and Alison well…, how they remained casual and occasional lovers, with only Alison and Brittney (and Susan) aware of the complex little dance that led to this resolution. There remained a certain amount of stress between Alison and Blake over Blake's possessive attitudes. But that was to be expected in an environment where a cute 19-year old platinum blonde with loud dance taps on her shoes had many would-be suitors, both young and old, including a Mr. Jack Youngblood, Coach of the soon-to-be state championship baseball team. And as for Brittney, going to bars wasn't so important to her anyway. She had a lot of other ways to get guys to thrust their dicks into her, and it was time for her to move on and try some of those out.