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The Head's Dream Girl

12

My name is Ariel. I'm twenty, and come from a poor family in the countryside. It's a beautiful place: all you could see was green for miles, we had a few grand poui trees, there were a couple of undulating hills here and there and from the top of one hill in particular you could see the entirety of the orange tree estate owned by Mr. Eli, our closest neighbor. The trees were lined in rows with spaces between them that were about the size of the small dirt road that led to my house. Beyond this estate were the much larger hills that stuck to each other, and the immortelle trees decorated them, adding some flavor to all the green.

It was Tuesday in February. I was sitting on the hill that overlooked the estate. It was about 6am. The morning sky was getting bright but there was still some grey. The cool air made me shiver but I didn't budge. I'm an early riser; I always wake up at 4am. Every morning I would walk over to this hill just to experience the dawn.

I looked at my watch and saw it was 6:15. Reluctantly I got up and trudged downhill. I returned home within five minutes and met my parents preparing to start work on the family garden. My mom held the watering can and my dad a shovel and some seeds. When approaching them he gave me a nod of his head and a solemn "Good morning Ariel." My mom was more caring in her tone with her "Good morning."

I returned home later than usual because I was exempted from work that morning due to the mail I received the day before. It was a letter from the best girls' university in the country telling me that I got accepted. My parents had seen it before me. They had called me out for a talk in the living room and were staring at me, waiting for me to speak.

"This is about the letter?" I said cautiously. I was expecting it to arrive that day.

"You never told us you applied," said my dad, in his usual serious tone.

"I didn't think they would have accepted me, but I decided to take a chance anyway. If I told you two that I applied I wouldn't want you to be disappointed if I was rejected."

"That makes sense," he said. "But let's talk about the finances."

The government paid for our tuition fees, but he was concerned about the price of books, stationery, food, etc.

There was a package that came with a letter which included information about the school. I knew there was supposed to be a section for incoming students who were financially strained. I walked over to the kitchen table and brought the package with me to the couch. I opened it and found the page in one of the booklets. It stated that the university would pay these expenses for the student after an assessment of the student's household, and that I had to pay the institution after I finished.

After I read the statement to them, they spent a few moments in contemplation. I broke the silence by saying "I'll work to pay them back on my own."

"You know you'll be indebted for a long time," my mom finally said. She sounded concerned. The tone of her voice made me feel less confident.

I knew they were at least a little proud of my achievement when they told me that night during dinner that I didn't have to work the next morning. They also told me I could go out with my friend Tricia to the city.

Tricia and I took the bus from town that would lead us to the city. We endured the smell of sweat and oil from the other passengers for forty-five minutes.

We had been in the city together a few times before. It's where we spent some of our dates. She was actually my girlfriend, but to our parents and everyone else who knew us we were "close friends."

She had applied to a business school in the city and got accepted. We would be miles apart from each other starting from September, but we never talked about our parting.

We were walking together holding hands in the liberal-minded city, looking at the items on display in the shop windows. I pointed some things out to her time to time that she would like. She would smile faintly and feign interest, but she remained solemn in general.

I thought I should bring up our impending parting when we got to the park. When we were getting close, she quickly asked me if I was tired. I said no, and then she told me she wanted to keep walking. She seemed to have read my mind about the park idea.

We walked further down to the more posh area of the city. The clothes and jewelry in the shop windows were beginning to look more expensive, there were people walking around in equally expensive clothes, and restaurants that looked like you needed some kind of proof of membership just to use the bathroom.

We stopped in one of the cafes to buy two bottles of water. We were surprised to know that they were the same price as anywhere else.

We decided to sit at one of the tables and rest our legs. Everyone in the café looked generic: fair-skinned, if not white, and just looking like they had a lot of money in general. I thought Tricia and I stood out with our average-looking clothes, but no one bothered with us.

Tricia was looking at me wistfully, her head slightly turned to the side, but there was a tinge of sadness in her face. Unfortunately I couldn't share her feelings. I just didn't love her.

I had agreed to the relationship between us when she had approached me a couple years back. I agreed because I was stupid and lonely. I also didn't think it would be serious or last that long because of the society of the countryside we lived in. I was glad our relationship was going to end so she wouldn't have to stay with someone like me.

While I was thinking my eyes had happened to notice the woman in the left corner, at the back of the café. She sat by herself, sipping on a smoothie and reading a magazine. I instantly recognised her as the headmaster of the school I was going to attend.

Her long dark hair fell on one shoulder and breast in waves, not a strand was out of place. Her skin was fair, her eyes dark. I couldn't stop staring at them, the irises seemed like dark pools that led into an abyss.

But her eyes were soulful, not sinister. I retracted from her eyes and studied her long aquiline nose. There was no blemish to be found in her face – no pimples, no scars.

I found her extremely beautiful. I felt bad for staring so long, and I had hoped she didn't notice.

Tricia was looking at me curiously. "What's the matter?" she asked.

"Um, nothing."

"Alright." She wanted me to say something, maybe about our upcoming separation, but I said nothing. I would have a talk with her closer to the date – I really just wanted to avoid seeing her cry.

It was a week before September. I had packed my things and was ready to go. My mom was emotional, my dad was double asking me if I had everything. I had a bag with notebooks, a couple of pens, some clothes and toiletries. They had saved money to buy me a cell phone so they could call me every week.

They walked with me to the bus stop. I cherished the fifteen minutes I spent with them there. The only words that came out were "Be sure to make friends" from my dad and "Never feel afraid to ask for assistance" from my mom. I felt that there was something else they wanted to say, something like "Look at the girls as your sisters, and nothing else."

When the bus arrived, I hugged them both. My mom was in tears and my dad was wide-eyed. I wouldn't be seeing them until December. I was so nervous because I had never been apart from them for so long.

It was two hour long drive to Wayman. When the bus got to the top of the hill I saw the white buildings of the University, and beyond them the ocean. It was beautiful, and just like the pictures I had seen in the booklet. When the word "beautiful" came to mind, I thought of the headmaster, and my heart leaped.

I couldn't be having a crush on the headmaster a week before I started school. First of all it was highly inappropriate, and secondly I could end up doing something stupid or be awkward in front of her.

We were nearing the gate, and my anxiety had reached the point to where it made me dizzy. I figured once I got into my dorm room I had to lie down.

The gold gates opened automatically when the bus stopped. The bus drove slowly inside, and from my window I saw some students. Some were in groups, some were by themselves. There was talking and laughing, some crowded the food places, some sat on benches. I saw the ones who were reading or listening to music through their earphones and thought that those were the only things I would be doing in my free time, other than assignments and studying.

The bus finally stopped at the beginning of the dorm buildings. I got off and walked in the direction of my building. My room was situated in the third building, on the second floor.

The room was decently sized for one person. I had my own bathroom, and I had to share a kitchen with the other girls on my floor. I unpacked the things I brought, and instead of taking a nap I figured I should go to pick up my uniform. After the financial assessment was made, I was classed as "financially strained student," so I didn't have to pay for the uniform. I was given a card with my name and University I.D. number which I would use to prove that I didn't have to pay for some things.

The East Wing was close to the dorm buildings. I picked up my uniform and walked back, eager to take a nap.

During the week I attended the newbie parties, orientation tours of the various buildings, and I got to meet some of the professors in my faculty. I had introduced myself to the girls on my floor and even hung out with them on our balcony a couple nights.

Then Friday came. That was the day all the new students assembled in one of the bigger auditoriums in the South Wing so we could be addressed by the headmaster. I was excited to see her after so long, and to finally hear her voice. When we were all assembled, I saw her emerge on the stage wearing the uniform – a plain white sari, but hers carried a gold pattern on the shoulders.

She held the microphone and greeted everyone with "Good afternoon, students." I was in awe while I listened to her silvery voice tell us the history of the school, its reputation, how we ought to be as students, the various services on campus, and what we were to expect in our first semester and the university experience as a whole. She addressed us like we were her own children, and I could tell she had a genuine love for the school. She had mentioned that she was once a student here herself.

A month had gone. Assignment due dates weren't daunting me yet, fortunately. I was consistent from the start, and was thorough in everything. Consistency, I thought, was what got me into this school, but I was told I was a natural genius in academics. I was humble and therefore didn't believe it. Things could easily get to my head if I let it, and I didn't want to end up feeling like I was better than anyone else.

It was September 30th. I made up this rule for myself that at the end of the month I would do nothing and just relax for a day. I slept late, played checkers with one of the girls, and in the evening everyone on my floor had a smoke session with weed that someone's cousin dropped off for them at the front gate of campus, concealed in a pencil case. We had formed a circle on the balcony, and after a half hour or so everyone's eyes were red and the smiles didn't waver. A few of us laughed a little too loud, some of us went to the fridge. I sat on one of the chairs, staring into space, not moving, not talking, until someone waved their hand in front of my face and laughed when I looked up at them.

When I felt I couldn't smoke anymore, I walked down the stairs, out of the building, and in the direction of the beach. I wasn't sure why I was walking towards the beach, but I knew I was only doing it because I was high as fuck. Gravity ceased to exist under my feet, and I felt like I was walking faster than usual. I felt that if I looked up at the full moon I would fall backwards.

I reached the edge of the small cliff. I carefully walked down the steps leading to the beach, the light of the moon guiding me. When I reached the bottom I took off my slippers and sunk my feet into the white sand. I marvelled at the glistening water and the waves crashing on the shore. I felt like I was in another world.

I turned to the right, and I saw a woman sitting on the sand, a blanket wrapped around her. She was some distance away. I walked closer to her. When I approached her, she turned her head, startled to see me. I was equally startled when I saw it was the headmaster. I stood frozen, wide-eyed and staring at her, while she stared at me in the same fashion.

The dark pools were illuminated by the full moon. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "It's very late." Her voice sounded slightly different than when I heard her in school. Her voice sounded a bit deeper now, and there was a hint of an accent that I didn't hear in her speech when she addressed the school.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I was too high for this situation.

"Are you alright?" she asked, sounding concerned.

"I-I just came out here to check out the beach. I'm sorry, ma'am, if I disturbed you."

"Oh no it's alright. You can sit with me," she patted her hand on the sand.

I sat next to her. I smelled her musk perfume. She was wearing a pair of shorts that stopped halfway on her thighs, and a black strap top.

"I've never encountered anyone here at night," she said. "So it's where I come to relax. But I don't mind your company. So what's your name?" She was staring at me wistfully. I was reminded of Tricia.

"I'm Ariel."

"That's a nice name."

"Thank you."

She proceeded to ask me what I was studying, and where I came from. She was intrigued when I told her about my background. She told me that very few girls from rural areas did well enough to get accepted by the school.

"How often do you come here?" I asked.

"Every night. I have a strange connection to this place and I don't know why."

I stayed there longer than I expected to. We talked about politics, religion, spirituality, novels, current issues. She was learned and had strong opinions, and sometimes I felt as if she read my mind.

The high faded when the conversation faded. "I think I should be getting back," I said.

"You're leaving so soon. Can you come back tomorrow night, Ariel?"

"Of course."

I felt her eyes on me as I walked up the steps. I turned and waved to her, and she waved back.

I was walking towards my dorm building, not quite believing what had happened. It was all so weird. I was so glad I walked down to the beach that night.

Back on my floor, everyone seemed to be asleep. I got back in my room and checked the time. It was 1am. I had been on the beach for hours. It had felt like I was there an hour for the most.

My classes finished at 2pm the next day. It was a Thursday. I had to go into the library to do research, but I decided to chill on the bench for a few minutes first. I was in South Wing, facing the green fields and the huge trees that were at least a hundred years old. The sunlight flickered through the leaves and the sound of the wind made me feel relaxed and put me in a thinking mood. She was the headmaster, why would she be there on the beach at 1am, talking and laughing with a student. And why would she be going there every night?

7pm came. It hit me that I forgot to ask her what time she would be there. 8pm was the time that I think I left the building the night before.

So I left at eight, and saw her there on the beach, sitting and watching the water. She wore the same pink blanket, but a different pair of shorts this time. I approached her and sat down.

Tonight she asked me more personal questions, like if I had a boyfriend, how my family was like, if I had any siblings, about my childhood, my teenhood.

I told her I once had a girlfriend. I told her all about Tricia, how I felt about her, how she felt about me leaving, and that she moved to the city before I could talk to her about our separation. She had either refused to answer my calls or got a new number.

"I hardly ever come across a female here who is open about their sexual orientation. I like that about you," she said.

I told her how I used to feel trapped in my village. Everyone was unhappy, rules were strict, people were always ready to criticize you or rat you out. I told her how I hated some of the traditions, especially the ones targeting women.

"Women can't do this, they can't do that. We're considered weak. We can't make our own decisions because the men think we're not capable or too emotional. They only see us as being able to make kids and clean up after both them and the kids. When I was thirteen my parents were going to marry me off, like most of the other girls in the village. They changed their mind because I was doing well in school and they thought I would eventually have a chance to get a good job in the city."

There was anger in my voice. I noted the concern in her face while I talked. She hadn't said a word, but she seemed like she was waiting for me to say more.

I told her how my childhood consisted of a lot of outdoor work. I didn't quite enjoy it, but it was a freer time for me.

I told her about my pre-teen and teen years. When puberty hit I was forced to wear a bra every time I set one foot outside of my house, some of the boys and men started staring at me and making comments as I walked through the village. Some jeered, some whistled, some followed me. It made me uncomfortable, of course, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. Some of them came to my house asking for my hand in marriage, and when I declined, my parents scolded me, saying I would never 'settle down' in life with my kind of attitude.

Then there were the girls in high school. It was an all girls school, fortunately. But I was a lesbian in a straight girl world, and it was to my detriment. My first crush happened when I was fourteen. I became hopelessly in love with her, but she only liked guys. She was my friend, and so she let me down easy. After that I had small crushes here and there, but one of them led to something more, something that lasted a long time.

"She's full of herself, and was flattered a girl would like her," I said. "She was very mean to me on account of my feelings for her. She saw me as weak and vulnerable and thought she could take advantage of me."

"Wow," was all the headmaster said. She put her arm around me.

"I'm in a different place now. But I don't want to go back in December."

"It'll only be a month, and then you'll spend three here in the next semester."

"A month is a long time, and then there's three months of summer..."

"Don't worry about all of that," she said soothingly.

I got up to go. She got up as well, and turned to face me. She pulled me into a warm embrace, which took me by surprise. My heart raced against her chest. My face grew warm.

It was an unusually long sympathetic hug. Then she kissed my cheek. The nails on one hand gently and slowly glided down my back.

This didn't feel sympathetic. I took a deep breath and started to pull away from her. Detecting my effort, she held me even tighter.

"You're what I was looking for when I came here. I just realized it. All these nights and you finally come to me...and in the form of a student," she whispered in my ear.

Her lips grazed down to my neck. She put in a couple of kisses, and my nipples grew rock hard against her breasts.

I struggled some more until she finally let go of me. "Why did you do that?" I asked, flustered. My face was burning and I knew she could see the redness.

I couldn't see her as the headmaster anymore. I saw the lust in her face and I knew that behind the dark eyes she was thinking of all the things she could do to me. Her eyes went from mine down to my lips, then my neck, and then my nipples that were still hard and poked at my t-shirt.

12
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