It is with a longing sigh that i recall my long-lost schooldays, not least because of my secret crush on our deliciously strict Headmistress, a true Amazon of a woman who would send the blood pumping furiously through my veins in a heated frenzy whenever i beheld her stalking the corridors like a magnificent, sexually repressed panther.
No matter how much she would preach the virtues of being good, i couldn't help but feel i was allowing her just a tiny glimmer of pleasure with my naughty ways, often dreaming up new misdemeanours with which i could invoke a summonse to her office at the end of the school day.
Every morning, without fail, i would present her with a sweet, rosy red apple and every afternoon she would summon me to the study whereupon she would chasten me with the utmost vigour for my latest sins, murmering beneath her breath that i was the naughtiest apple in the barrel and that i deserved to be made very rosy indeed forthwith.
What a strange boy you are, she would say with twinkling eyes as i stood humbly before her, the more i punish you, the more you misbehave until i almost begin to imagine that you actually delight in my attention and severity!
Of course, i was tongue-tied and blushing so had no witty repost with which to beguile the imperious object of my devotion, simply submitting myself to the swishing sting of her bamboo wand until she was fully satisfied that i had learnt the error of my ways.
Every night i lay half-awake with my beloved Headmistress dominating every thought until the sleepy dawn at last arrived and before leaving for school, i would run into the garden and climb my favourite tree to pick yet another juicy red apple for my beloved.
© Sean Barrett - Dec 2009