Tainted Reflection chapter one part 2

Hazel sat there as she had done for the past twenty minutes. Her arms folded impatiently, unconcerned about how her body language was portraying her. She hadn’t wanted to attend the class in the first place but now the tutor was late and so far all she had done was watch Gemma impersonate a goldfish for twenty minutes, puffing out her cheeks whilst tapping her fingers on her knee. The rest of the class had been no better, all muttering to themselves like repetitive parrots

“Oh I wonder where he could be?”

 “Maybe he’s been in an accident.”

“Is the class still on?”

“Is he coming?

Hazel didn’t understand the attraction. The whole class seemed smitten with Mr Willis but to Hazel he had about as much charisma as a wet flannel. She would have gone for warthog but decided that was unfair to warthogs. To Hazel he was a sleazy scruff, his hair combed into a side parting whilst his chin was covered in grizzly stubble which didn’t make him look rugged or masculine just unclean as though he hadn’t washed for days on end.

He hardly dressed to impress either. The pale green shirt was alright but he combined it with bright red braces and corduroy trousers. He wore his shirt cuffs open, she guessed, to try and look cool and rebellious for the women but it wasn’t working for him especially when his shirt was half tucked in and a stain from his lunch covered the left breast side of his shirt. He was hardly James Dean, rebel without a cause, more Stig of the dump without a home.

As for the participants of the class, Hazel considered them to be like flies around a dung heap. If the dung heap wasn’t there the flies didn’t know what to do for the rest of the day, but she did though. This was the last place she wanted to be on a Friday night.

“Well he’s late,” she said as a matter of fact.

“He’s never normally late. Do you think he’s on a break?” Gemma asked.

“I think this is a waste of time and that I’m leaving now,” Hazel began to lift herself from her chair.

“Oh hold up, give it a couple more minutes. When have you not known a class to go ahead? He never misses; he’s so passionate about art.” Gemma had a twinkle in her eye as she spoke which hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“You fancy him?” Teased Hazel, now understanding her persistence to keep her there. She was like a school girl with a crush who needed someone there to hold her hand, a bluff so as not to make her feelings totally obvious to everyone else.

“No,” she blushed. “No I just appreciate –“

“His buttocks?” Hazel joked.

“No!”

“His braces and masculinity combo?” Hazel was enjoying this.

“Okay a little,” Gemma conceded knowing she had already dropped herself in it. “A little but don’t go telling him.” Now she really did feel like a school girl again.

“You don’t have to worry about that, I’m off.” Hazel rose.

“Oh don’t Hazel,” Gemma whispered.

“I’m not sitting here all night waiting for a guy who enjoys flashing his bits in a room full of women and calling it art.”

Some of the other women in the class scowled at that remark but Hazel didn’t care. She just wanted to leave. “Let’s just go to the pub like we agreed and get bladdered.”At that point someone stumbled in through the classroom door. It took everyone by surprise for a minute, even it seemed for the person who had crashed in. It was a man, a baffled looking man who looked surprised to see anyone else was in the room. He looked as though he had blundered into the wrong place as he cleared his throat and observed everyone in the room apprehensively.

“Right, yes. Hello,” he greeted with a mixture of cheerfulness and nervousness.

“Who’s this?” Gemma wondered, disappointed that her art teacher hadn’t been the one to materialize through the door.

“Don’t know,” shrugged Hazel, not all that interested although becoming slightly more intrigued, the more she noticed about him. Surely he wasn’t here for the class? He was rather peculiar, dressed in a light brown sports jacket and dark trousers with a matching red tie and waistcoat to compliment his crisp, white button shirt.

Perhaps he was an academic. There was certainly  something about the stranger that said, “Authoritative.” He certainly had the class and style in his choice of attire but it was his face that Hazel found more intriguing, it seemed to have conflicting elements to it she couldn’t quite grasp.

He was an older man, definitely in his fifties, perhaps sixties if she was cheeky enough to think it. He had a gentlemanly quality about him through his clothes but the eyes, beneath his spectacles, told of a different story. There was something mysterious about them, something strong which hid deep beneath the veil of a gentle, middle aged man. The one feature she couldn’t fail to notice was that he was balding with a light, clean shaven bird’s nest. In conclusion . . . he’d got lost.

“S’cuse me?” She asked addressing the new comer. “Sorry are you new? Take a seat, our teacher won’t be long.” She looked at Gemma and muttered, “Apparently.”

“New?” Queried the man. “No, no I’m going to be the teacher for the evening,” he said seemingly uneasy.

“Well where’s Mr Willis?” Hazel asked.

“Vernon,” butted in Gemma. “He likes us to be on first name terms.” She really was smitten Hazel thought.

“Oh was that his name?” the stranger muttered to himself. He looked back across at the students suddenly remembering where he was.” Erm well he’s a bit tied up at the moment.” Hoping that would answer the question.

Gemma looked concerned. What did he mean? He’s tied up. “Is he ill?” she pressed.

“Yes, yes that’s what he is, ill, ill as they come,” replied the stranger quickly as though he had just been let off the hook with something. However, Gemma was even more concerned now.

“Seriously ill or contagiously?”

“Oh I’d say definitely yes, definitely one of those,” he babbled unconvincingly. He wasn’t expecting all these questions he was having to make it up on the spot. He could hardly tell them the truth.

“Right so what class is this?” He desperately wanted to change the subject. He pulled down the blackboard on the wall behind him. What he saw written on the board hadn’t been what he was expecting. He swallowed hard suddenly feeling a little vulnerable, as though he could feel every pair of eyes in the room burning into his skin. “Life drawing. Ah right,” he read with dignified horror. “Right okay that’s good, fine.” He choked turning to face the students and trying not to show his sense of entrapment.

“Err,” he hesitated unsure of his next question. “Who is it we’re drawing?” he asked sheepishly. The students remained silent, one or two perhaps sensing his discomfort. At that point he had his answer, he suddenly felt his heart sink and his ears turn red with embarrassment knowing what he had to succumb to.

“It’s me isn’t it? You were drawing your teacher.” He swallowed hard and loosened his collar, stroking his neck with blatant unease. “Anyone else fancy a go?” He asked hopefully but realistically knowing, there was no way out of this.

Hazel and Gemma could barely stand. They had barely been able to keep a straight face all night and now that the class had ended and they were out in one of the college corridors they had just completely gone to pieces. Both just convulsed with laughter, unable to walk in a straight line or upright for that matter. They pushed past one of the set of double doors on the corridor and headed downstairs. Hazel found she couldn’t trust herself not to fall down the stairs through her giddiness so gripped the stair rail as she descended.

“That was so funny,” Gemma managed to find a pause in her laughter to speak. “If you hadn’t have come tonight you would have missed that,” she squealed, doubling up in excruciating laughter whilst having to sit on one of the steps to avoid tumbling down the rest of them.

“What I need right now is a bottle of wine to wipe out the images from my brain.” Hazel wept trying to dry her tears of laughter.

“I just can’t believe Georgina took a photo with her I-Phone,” Gemma Laughed.

“You can talk,” Hazel accused. “I can’t believe you got the whole class to chant, Off! Off! Off!  It was so embarrassing,” she continued now feeling slightly sorry for the poor supply teacher.

“Not half as much as it was for him,” Gemma spluttered, laughing so hard she was gasping for air. That in turn made Hazel hysterical all over again. She tried to control herself so she could speak.

“He was a right weird one him. There’s no way he’s done this before,” she said with a degree of composure. “It’s life drawing and he won’t even take his underpants off,” she scoffed. “Not that I particularly wanted to see it anyway,” she added quickly.

 “Off, Off, Off soon did the trick though didn’t it?” beamed Gemma slowly making her way down the stairs.

“The poor guy was so embarrassed. He went ever so red,” Hazel said with a degree of sympathy but still having to put her hand over her mouth to stop giggling.

“It’s very hot in here,” Gemma impersonated, mimicking what the teacher had used as an excuse to hide his embarrassment. Hazel tried to look sympathetic for him but was letting the humour of it all get the better of her.

 “That’s not what down below was saying. Fancy it going into hibernation on him in a room full of women.” It was no use fighting, both instantaneously burst out laughing, their cackled laughter echoing through the stairwell.

“Tragic,” said Gemma. “And you were going to miss all this fun,” she prompted.

“I don’t even think he was an art teacher,” said Hazel with a more serious undertone.

“We could have just spent the last ninety minutes with a random bloke off the street.” It baffled her to think how crazy someone would have to be to do that. It also occurred to her it could have been a lot more serious. Gemma on the other hand didn’t see it like that.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. I very much doubt after tonight’s experience he’ll be showing his face round here anytime soon,” she dismissed. “You see how upset he got over how we drew his genitals?” she asked encouraging Hazel to recollect the image. “He leapt off that stool waving them right in front of my eyes. Almost touching my nose they were whilst he flung his arms about insisting it wasn’t always like that and I should draw it to precise, accurate measures,” she described noticing the tears running down Hazel’s face.

 “Oh damn!” Hazel suddenly remembered something. “With all the laughing I’ve done I’ve left my jacket back in the class room,” she realised.

“Oh bloody hell Hazel, that’s three flights of stairs,” moaned Gemma.

Hazel looked back up at the stair well with a resenting sigh. She had to go back for her jacket but didn’t see the point of them both going back up there. “Well you go to the pub and get them in. I won’t be long,” she started. “If I’m going on a pub crawl with you I’m not going without a jacket on.” She knew how these nights usually went with Gemma. Pub after pub after pub with at least three drinks thrown down their necks at each one, rendering her incapable of making it through her own front door unaided.

“Okay, I’ll go over now,” Gemma said. “But you keep your wits about you,” she mused. “In case Wee Willy Winky decides to pop out and give you a fright.”

 “Oh stop it, don’t, don’t,” Hazel pleaded letting out a little chuckle. She pushed through the door they had both just come through and made her way back up the stairs, hoping she would be able to calm herself down just in case the phantom flasher was still around.