From: c0sm0s@aol.com (C0SM0S)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: <0 0>   HIGH DOH by Alan Edward
Date: 23 Sep 1994 16:36:05 -0400
Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364)
Lines: 164
Message-ID: <35ve7l$396@newsbf01.news.aol.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: newsbf01.news.aol.com

                        HIGH DOH by Alan Edward 

                        Taken from PANTHOLOGY 2 
                        Copywright by Spartacus, 1982 

  Rattenburry-Swinge sent for me precisely five seconds after I'd 
arrived.  The usual. Welcome to the staff, fine team, great 
traditions. I looked out of the window, tried not to drum my 
fingers. R-S was a worried man.  Seventeenth Century endowments 
running with twelve per cent inflation, he'd had to take in his 
first consignment of paying pupils last year. LES NOUVEAUX 
RICHES; how he must have hated it.  I'd taken a look at the 
place, hedged my bets, then taken a look at the kids, and 
accepted.  He was lucky, in the ordinary way I wouldn't have 
touched it, not with the proverbial, not at that salary! 

  Subtly, his tone altered.  My gaze flicked back from the mock 
Gothic; he had my attention again.  

  "Our duties, Hudson, are many, going in a number of respects 
beyond what would be expected of a mere teacher, an instructor.  
We are guides, precepters, nurse-maids.  I believe I have 
explained the main part of your duties to you. However..." 

  He got up, then sat down again.  I could see a small muscle 
under his left eye tighten, quiver.  Now he was nervous, jumpy.  

  "The difficulty arises principally with your form, the twelve 
and thirteen-year-olds whose time in a choir school is naturally 
comming to an end and who we expect to be going to Public Schools 
next year.  You see, Hudson, the school has certain standards.  
Old-fashioned, perhaps, but still.." 

  The phone rang, he dealt with it, then rose and paced a little.  
I waited, silent.  

  "In effect, Hudson, it is a question of what boys of that age 
will or will not be expected to do every night, or nearly every 
night - if you follow me - and of whether this is indeed 
something they should be encouraged to do THEMSELVES, or whether, 
in contradistinction, a member of staff should perform this 
office FOR them.  I incline personally to the latter view.  
Therefore, the admittedly somewhat repetitious duty which I would 
like you to undertake with respect to your form - " 

  The door was knocked and Matron came in, some conversation 
about laundry followed. I didn't listen.  Soon she was dismissed; 
she left.  

  "Now, where was I?  Anyhow, I believe I've made myself clear.  
If you think the job perhaps too menial one could - er - ask 
Matron, perhaps.  Are there any question?" 

  Oh yes, there were questions.  But I wouldn't be asking them! 

  "Good.  Just before they go to sleep is the best.  Shouldn't 
take you too long.  Twelve to twenty - er - strokes each should 
do it." 

  Now, THERE I could have asked how he knew.  But I simply ose, 
murmured dutifully, 'Thank you, Headmaster.'  End of 
conversation. 

  This is one duty I would begin right away.  Tonight.  I called 
in young Chris Teale, Head Chorister, incidently the sort of 
thirteen-year-old whose looks grab you in the guts, turn your 
knees and stomach to water. Ten minutes, give or take, we chatted 
of this and that, then I stopped, cleared my throat, surprising 
myself, I was as nervous as King Rat had been.  

  "Now, just about the - the last thing at night.  You know, what 
I belive my predecessor's last evening - er duty was." 

  The boy shook his head. "Oh, I couldn't say, sir.  We've all 
just come up from the form below, you know." 

  Of course. God. Now I'd have to explain. I did, but it wasn't 
easy, not with those stunning blue eyes on me, wide and puzzled 
until he understood.  Then, to my relief, the eyes lit, and a 
gorgeous smile just about sent me sideways.  

  "Oh, NOW I see!  For a moment I thought you were talking about 
extra singing lessons! Gosh sir, it's going to be super being in 
the top year, what with extra football, and now this!  What time 
should I have them ready?" 

  "Just after they get undressed for bed, about nine.  How many 
of you are there?" 

  "Twelve." He caught my expression, grinned.  " There are good 
parallel bars in the gym, sir.  Fine exercise for the wrists!" 

  I entered into the thing.  "Or I'll play you a game of squash," 
I quipped back, "even better!" 

  "Several!" said the kid.  

  Bedtime came a century later.  Nine o'clock I went into the 
dorm, heart thumping like the 6:15 from Paddington. I couldn't 
but ask myself would they all want it, but no problem.  All were 
ready, on their beds, all with pyjama bottoms off.  I began at 
the end bed.  No difficulty here, a hard little pencil, a quick 
dozen, AAAH! he tightens and jerks on the bed, a little dampness, 
then 'Thank you sir, goodnight.'  Problem one, a few others not 
quite so ready, but a little movement of the deft Hudson fingers 
here and there and ... end of THAT problem.  Each kid took it 
differently, no two the same.  Some absolutely silent, eyes 
closed, the only sign that your task was over a little tightening 
of the muscles, mouth opens silently, a little 'ooh!' perhaps.  
Others more vocal, 'ah-ah-ah-ing' all the way through, then 
shouting out at the end.  One or two simply quivering a little, 
but others bouncing up and down, small behinds thumping on the 
bed, then finally just about taking off, body jack-knifing, knees 
snapping up at some risk to yours truly, if he wasn't careful.  
Chris, who saw fit to lie in my lap - and I wasn't complaining- 
was one of the bouncers, and noisier than them all.  Problem two, 
a little stickiness here and there, partially solved by Chris 
making them take off their pj's altogether, setting the example 
himself.  

  End of the first week, Chris came to see me.  A simple request; 
could he have his afterwords, away from the others.  My room, to 
be exact. He'd enjoy it more, he said.  I understood; a Head 
Chorister's precious dignity.  

  "Okay, I'll take you back with me when I've finished with the 
others.  Still better than singing lessons, eh?" 

  He grinned.  "Well, you DO make me sing, don't you - every 
night. Hadn't you noticed?" 

  Rattenburry-Swinge sent for me the same day.  His tone warm to 
begin with.  Congratulations on settling in so well, duties all 
performed to his satisfaction.  He coughed again, changing key. 
Except...  

  "Simply that little duty I referred to last of all.  There I'm 
NOT so happy, Hudson." 

  Christ - where were you, in the wardrobe? 

  "I really think," I said, "that I have done my - " 

  He held up his hand.  "There I'm afraid I can't agree. I do 
look around very carefully at morning chapel and, as I said, we 
do have our standards, Hudson." 

  Now he HAD lost me.  

  "On reflection, I have decided it is probably NOT appropriate 
to ask you to brush the boys' hair at night, and I have therefore 
asked Matron to perform this duty instead.  Yes, Hudson?" 

  "I didn't speak," I said after a moment.  

  Just as well.  

  "One other thing.  Christopher Teale is waiting to see you.  
About extra singing lessons, he said; I'm glad he's taking an 
interest.  That will be all, Hudson."