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7. General Theory of Relativity
Miss Kali was very specific with me. "Miss Pringle, Mr. Jefferson is imbibing a sense of physics in our girls without parallel. You know we've not won any competitions in this field in all the years we've been open. If we can win a prestigious award, we'll be able to double our tuition fees. I expect you to do whatever it takes to ensure his cooperation and total enthusiasm. This will directly impact your bonus and salary. I expect total focus from you. Now get out there and win."
I listen to this vision. Miss Kim can be so unpractical. It's one thing to be starry eyed but a whole other thing to make strategies fit operational realities. "You must realize Miss Kim, that Mr. Jefferson doesn't really like women. There is evidence that he would much prefer working at a boys school."
"I know", Miss Kim concerns, "and we'll just have to figure out a way to convince him otherwise. Remember, I'm counting on you here. Maybe it's time I had a talk with him. Can you pick him up after his Grade 9 class and bring him to me?"
Hey Miss Kali is the boss, so I said, "Sure, will do". I stride down to the class and enter a sight that does not bode well for Miss Kali's strategy. Mr. Jefferson is standing nude except for two cameras totally hiding his pokey. His eyes are downcast, his posture is bent, he looks like a man totally defeated. Shit, this is just a Grade 9 class, how could they possibly intimidate him so? Thinking bonus, I brightly say, "Mr. Jefferson, you look like you would like to teach a lesson to some people in this class. Your wish is this school's command."
I'm amazed; Mr. Jefferson always behaves so definite. Now he hesitates, colors, and acts like a wimp doing nothing. I think to myself, he's in trauma, what's the best way to rectify? Inspiration talks, "Mr. Jefferson, you have total authority to do anything you want to anyone in this class after hours today." He doesn't bite; he stays dejected. Desperate, I volunteer, "Mr. Jefferson, tell me what you want and so it shall be".
Slowly, incredibly slowly, my power offer sinks in and he, at a snail's pace, creeps, "All my clothes back. All my dignity back. All who I am back."
I struggle with this. He thinks I'm just a fat tub of lard. I have a thyroid problem, it's not like I want to be a fat tub of lard. His demands strike me as pedantic so I reply, "that will be up to Miss Kali, Mr. Jefferson. She'd like to see you now". I gently hold a fragile Mr. Jefferson around the waist and lead him through the corridors with his cameras bouncing to Miss Kali's office.
Survival, that's all that matters I grimly concentrate. I am Miss Kali, and I always win. I've uttered and lived that mantra for all of my 28 years. I run an 80 pupil private school and am barely holding my head above water, but if I can grow the pupil base to 120 I'm on easy street. Right now though, I'm barely covering the fixed overheads. I need to up the reputation of this school fast if I don't want to get taken out of the game prematurely. I've lucked out knowing Mrs. Jefferson. I just need to figure out how to deploy her son's incredible brilliance. This 21-year-old male has no idea how talented he is. His university profs clearly mark him as a future star. But how to make money out of it, is what I need to ponder. I have a bunch of bright kids and a guy with a first class brain. It's about management; I just need to figure out a way to put it together.
A considerate Miss Pringle ushers Mr. Jefferson to the front of my desk. "Thank you Miss Pringle, Mr. Jefferson and I need to have a private chat. You may go." Miss Pringle, strangely estranged leaves. I stare at a totally dishonored male. Ouch, I don't know what happened but I didn't want this to happen. I remove his degrading cameras letting him live totally naturally. No gratitude at all I note, this is going to be difficult. "Mr. Jefferson, I appreciate that you are less than happy, but please be assured that I'm very pleased with your performance to date." His head stays down, not even a sparkle of life detectable. I worry internally, have I over sweated my asset base? "Mr. Jefferson, please look at me." His head rises and I see nothing but pain staring at me vacantly. Too far, too fast I realize. I need to snap him back to whom he was when he arrived. "Mr. Jefferson, do you believe we have any girls here who are smart enough to be taught by you?"
That was the right question. Many emotions crossed his face in seconds, but he stayed quiet. "Let me lay it on the line Mr. Jefferson", thinking a bit of truth is ok even in management, "The girls are very hungry for knowledge and sometimes they let their enthusiasm get carried away. I know it's hard for you to understand preadolescent drives, but do you think they have potential?"
He finally cracks normality, "They do catch onto certain concepts extremely quickly" he opines from somewhere deep inside himself.
Got you. I Cheshire "And are you smart enough to teach this level of cleverness?"
His intellectual arrogance finally reasserts itself, "Seriously, they are girls, albeit very smart girls, but they are not guys. I can educate this crew with my hands tied behind my back."
Not pointing out that he was more likely to be tied than not, I drew him out with the statement, "So you are not giving up on this job? You think you can handle it?" Oops, bad negative, he retreats back into his shell. I try again with, "Mr. Jefferson, I believe you have the potential to be a good teacher, but you're way too sensitive. I'm willing to overlook this because I believe in you. The question is do you believe in me." For emphasis, I breathe in deeply and project my 38C cups straight into his line of sight. I'm rewarded with a pokey surge.
Oblivious to his physical reaction he still gives me an appropriate mental one, "Miss Kali, I am willing to teach but I feel that I'm not getting the respect a teacher is due. The way I have to wear weird things downstairs is abhorrent to me in every way, shape and form."
In management there is a time to ignore and there is a time to act. Knowing that I was making a major procedure change without due consideration, I nevertheless hit the PA button and announced to the school, "Girls, I'm in conference with Mr. Jefferson. He has brought to my attention that the school policy of not letting early grades see a pokey is humiliating to him. As of now, this rule is revoked." I shut off the PA and look for a sign of gratitude from Mr. Jefferson. For all my troubles, I get nothing but a shocked look. He looks like a forlorn little boy with his head downcast and shaved pokey upcast. I stand and move beside his chair, by breasts almost touching his face. I smile as I see him sneaking peeks. "Mr. Jefferson, have you ever seen a woman's breasts?" He realizes that I caught him looking and reddening, looks down at the floor while shaking his head. A virgin, amazing, I thought. "You've spent too much time with books Mr. Jefferson. If you do something for me I'll arrange for you to see a womans' breasts at the end of the school day. Would you like that?" A struggle between his devil and angel erupts. I softly brush his pokey with the back of my hand trying to influence the winner.
The devil in him won. He shyly asks, "What do you want me to do for you?"
I take it the next step; "Just keep your pokey hard for me until after school hours. Can you do that for me?"
His pokey, rubbing itself like a kitten on the back of my hand, spoke for him, "Yes Miss Jefferson, will you really show me breasts?" His face turns and feasts on the clothed cannons inches from his face. His eyes and pokey get wider.
I turn my hand and pet the kittens' head. I hear Mr. Jefferson purr. This is by far the easiest way I thought. Leverage his sexual energy to motivate him. I need to raise his sexual energy has high as possible, I muse. I require all the leverage I can get with this shy boy. I molest the kitten's back. The purring gets louder. I softly whisper, "Mr. Jefferson, you have to promise me not to go soft no matter what." The kittens' heart slows down. "After school, breasts Mr. Jefferson, breasts." The kittens' heart speeds up. I fondle the kitten from head to toes. The kitten jumps up into the air, heart palpitating. "That's all you have to do. I know your word is your bond. Do you promise me Mr. Jefferson?"
Mr. Jefferson's brain focuses mightily. I hear, "Yes Miss Kali, I'm physically incapable of breaking my word. I know how to engage my entire intellect. It will control pokey to the point of burnout".
I give the kitten a tummy rub. Mr. Jefferson mews with pleasure. "Then promise me Mr. Jefferson. Promise me you will faint before you let pokey come." I give the kitten a full body rub.
Mr. Jefferson meows, "I promise Miss Kali. I'll do what ever it takes."
I rub and squeeze the kitten with vitality. I watch the devil leave Mr. Jefferson's face and the angel arrive to do battle. The kitten grows two months older. I'm impressed; he does have a strong angel. I slow down my strokes to a tickle. The younger kitten returns as a tired angel lets the devil back in.
"Don't think about the upcoming breast festival too much. You do have a number of classes to teach still." Holding a playful kitten in hand, I lead Mr. Jefferson to his Grade 10 class.
Sally can't contain her excitement. "Lisa, we can see pokeys. We wouldn't have to wait two years. I can't believe it. At sixteen we're going to see our first little man naked."
I felt equally thrilled but no way was I going to admit I've never seen a pokey before either. "I don't see the big deal, Sally. What's the difference between a little man and my finger?" Miss Kali enters with Mr. Jefferson. I stare down, brain frames open, to write a permanent memory of my first pokey. Miss Kali has her hand covering him. I close down my write heads and feel the suspense building in me. I look around; every girl's eye is glued on Miss Kali's hand. Miss Kali glides a serene looking Mr. Jefferson to the front of the class. Mr. Jefferson eyes were in the back of his head. Even stranger were the mewing sounds coming from his slightly parted lips.
"Class, may I present Mr. Jefferson's kitten." Miss Kali theatrically unveils the picture. My brain frames open, the write heads engage, Recording Status - operational. He was beautiful. Slim no make that elegant. Good muscle tone. I like the way he keeps his back straight. His head was cleanly shaven and I could just glimpse his mouth on top. "Class, I have promised Mr. Jefferson than he can see some breasts after school today. The only condition I have is that he stays hard and doesn't go soft on us. He has promised me that he won't, but can you please help him if it looks like he needs it. Thank you, have a good lesson." Miss Kali hugs her kitten goodbye and takes her leave.
Well I certainly wasn't going to let the kitten down. I tore to the front of the class not wanting Sally or Martha to beat me to the punch. Mr. Jefferson face took on an element of confusion. I lightly touch the kitten with one finger. Relieved, I see his hypnotic state return. Signaling the rest of the class to whisper only, they quietly gather until a sea of faces surround the kitten. Not everyone can see, "Sally", I whisper, "clear the desk." I murmur into Mr. Jefferson's' ear, "Mr. Jefferson, it's wonderful to see you so relaxed. Here, lets lie you down". He obediently lets me lay him on the desk. This perversely has the effect of making his little man stand up. Four face walls form. I tickle the pickle. "What are you teaching us today Mr. Jefferson."
He languishes, "The General Theory of Relativity. It's about how space itself can be warped." Warmth radiates my hand. It feels smooth, almost silky even though there is not a hair in sight. Not like girls at all, we have hair down there. "Tell us more, Mr. Jefferson."
He dreamily smiles and says, "It all started when Einstein saw a man fixing a roof fall down. He realized, while the man was falling to his death, he wasn't feeling the gravitational force." Only a pure physics nerd would think about something so existential when watching death live.
Seeing another physics weirdo spread open before me, I warily query, "How does that make space warp?" Hefting his pokey, I murmur to the other girls, "His kitten feels like it's going to drop more kittens."
Sally, forever the curious one says, "Let's see if the kitten changes its weight over time." She gently lifts his balls and pokey onto a scale. We watch the scale needle move steadily clockwise. What was going on? The little man's density was slowly but surely increasing. Fascinated, my hand transforms a lightweight into a middleweight.
Mr. Jefferson purrs, "Einstein established the principle of equivalence from this realization. It is",
We shall therefore assume the complete physical equivalence of a gravitational field and the corresponding acceleration of the reference frame. This assumption extends the principle of relativity to the case of uniformly accelerated motion of the reference frame.
Martha interpolates, "So you are saying that since the falling roofer was weightless, then gravity and the force of acceleration must be two sides of the same coin." Martha, in spite of the evil look I give her, starts to tickle the little man's back. The needle rises faster.
I see her point though, "So the principle of equivalence means that gravity is just another form of acceleration."
Sally joining the tickle parade reflects, "But the only place where mass can accelerate is space itself. So space must be curved, like a bowl where a marble either rolls around the rim or falls to the bottom of the bowl." Her eyes gleam as she adds another finger to tickle the little mans head. Mr. Jefferson's hips buckle.
Sweat starts to drip from Mr. Jefferson's head as he states, "Very good. Mass and energy bend space like a bowl. Our sun makes a huge bowl out of space so that all the planets can roll around the rims. Earth makes a smaller bowl that we fall into. Gravity is just the curved space we accelerate in.
Martha muses, "So if space is bent by the presence of mass and energy and light follows space, then it follows that light will bend in the presence of a very dense object." She looks at pokey. The other girls look at pokey and then at the scale needle showing the little man getting denser and denser."
"Feathers girls, we need lots of feathers." Each girl returns with a long quill pen. One girl hands some to Martha, Sally and I. Twenty hands extend feather tips towards the little man. A pillowed pokey doubles his weight in a minute. It doubles again. Mr. Jefferson's eyes widen and I see angels dance in.
He seems to be fighting something and starts muttering, "I promised, I promised, I promised." We girls looked at each other. What was he worried about? He wasn't soft at all. In fact the little man weighed ten times more than his pre-scale mass. We go back to feathering his nest.
Sally brightens, "Laser pointers, that's all we need to prove the General Theory of Relativity." She tapes a green laser pointer to the desk on the little mans left side. The red I tape to his right. We both click on the lasers, angle each beam 8 inches from each side of the little man, and adjust them until a red dot was right beside a green dot on the ceiling. Sally, explaining in case any girl in the room was too dense to understand, pontificates, "If we can get his pokey density high enough, then his pokey will bend the space around it. The red and green beams will curve through his pokey bowl and merge into a yellow dot on the ceiling."
I, along with the rest of the class, feverishly feather the solid object under consideration. Mr. Jefferson turns cow-eyed. A choir of angels enter and get to work. Sure wish I knew what they were doing. Mr. Jefferson's chanting takes on a heartbreaking pleading note, "I promised, I promised, I promised." His dripping face turns white with effort. Mystified by his behavior we decide he's busy with something else. The scale needle registers its maximum weight of three hundred pounds. Straining, three of us lift Mr. Pokey off so we can slide the now useless scale away from the experiment. Like a synchronized swimming team, we swirl and twirl Mr. Pokey from the top to bottom. The little man turns red. Five minutes later, we get a state change; he's white hot. The dots on the ceiling waver. The angels were so busy they push Mr. Jefferson's pupils out of the way. "Promise, Promise, Promise", Mr. Jefferson pants. Doesn't seem anything will distract him from whatever he is thinking about. We spin our feathers until the little man looks set to fly. He turns semi-transparent. Our eyes look up. The feathers ignite. Red and green did meet. A yellow dot star was born. The general theory of relativity was proved.
A scream breaks our reverie. The feathers were burning the little man! No time for water, I spit at the little man. The rest of the girls, natural nurses all, spit with me until dry mouthed, the fire goes out. The newborn star dies and a singed little man, dripping with our saliva starts to droop.
Sally panics, "We promised Mr. Jefferson and Miss Kim to help Mr. Pokey stay hard. We can't let down our end."
With honed lifeguard instincts, I realize artificial respiration is our only hope. Overruling my distaste for saliva, I latch my mouth onto the little mans lips and try to breathe new life into him. It droops even faster. I suck in air for another go. The little man stops drooping. That's odd. Do I have to suck his air out to breathe in existence? I give the head a hard suck. Yes, he's straightening out. Physics is so strange. I suck his head avidly. I suck his neck. He slowly recovers. That's my pokey I thought. I devour his whole body with the suction of an industrial Hoover. My cheeks ache as I drag my mouth off with a pop. Relieved, I see the little man is clearly out of danger and is respiring normally.
All the girls stare at me like I'm some sort of vampire. The questions gush on top of each another. "What was that like Lisa? "How did it taste." "How did it feel?" "Did you use your tongue?" "Did you use your teeth?" "Did it hurt?" "Was it hot?"
I think back a minute. Unlike Einstein, I don't think about myself when a life is threatened. "Your saliva was pretty gruesome and the burnt skin made him taste a bit overcooked. Later, it was pleasant. Like devouring a hot lollipop. It was way better than sucking a thumb. I'd have to say that I probably would have enjoyed it a lot more if the emergency hadn't been so pressing." I bend over and slurp the pokey in for a more considered appraisal. Now I can feel the lollipop throb. I bite. It recoils in horror as Mr. Jefferson's hips thrust up. Guess Mr. Pokey doesn't like that. I swirl my tongue. Pokey throbs faster. I lick his lips. They open. I French kiss deep into his tiny mouth. His pokey regains its bounce. I take my mouth off and turn to the girls. "This lollipop likes tongue and kisses but he doesn't like teeth." I neglect to mention that it feels very squishy between my legs for some reason. I can investigate that phenomenon by myself after the class is over.
The little man starts to droop again. Martha takes over. "Let's do this in shifts girls, Mr. Jefferson needs us." Surprisingly, she doesn't just copy me. Martha always has to do things her own way I sigh. She starts to lick him. "A lollipop is to be savored not just gulped down. We need to treat Mr. Pokey like a fine wine. That is the best way to keep him fit." She flattens her tongue and gives the lollipop long sweeping swipes. Pokey stops slouching.
The next girl states, "Clearly a house is only as good as its foundation." She sucks in one of Mr. Jefferson's balls. Pokey jerks to attentions. She spits it out and sucks in the other, pokey hovers anxiously. "There's candy in these here hills, like blackballs."
Two lines form. The first repair his foundation. By the time the fifth girl finishes munching his balls, they were nice and tight. Nothing sloppy down there anymore, I note approvingly. The second line lick and suck the little man enthusiastically. When the sixth girl finishes we see Mr. Pokeys enormous mass start to come back. His angels return and the chanting starts again, "Promise, Promise, Promise".
After pair seven, he's blazing again. After pair nine, white fire. The girl from pair nine couldn't last long. "It's just too hot." Sally signals me to be part of her pair ten. I force feed both balls into my mouth. They feel enchanting. I roll the sacs around my tongue. I nip a marble. A yelp breaks Mr. Jefferson's monotone. I nip him more frequently preferring high-pitched promises. I hear Sally gargling with ice water until she feels her mouth freeze. She slowly lowers her frozen mouth between the laser lights onto the white-hot pokey. Sizzling all the way to the bottom, she suctions until she gets close to pure vacuum. Sally bobs her head up and down, faster and faster. I see Mr. Pokey go semi-translucent again. Using my teeth to drag a mouthful of balls along for the ride, I turn my head to the dots on the ceiling.
"Prom, Prom, Prom", Mr. Jefferson shrilly peeps. The yellow sun is born anew. This time, without the feathers burning, we all revel in Einstein's General Theory of Relativity. I chomp contentedly watching space bend with the rest of the girls. The bell rings.
An exhausted Sally drags her head off the bender. "Now that is some lollipop. Not like your finger, Lisa." We all laugh thinking thoughts most private. We file out, panty stains on every girl. The sun's generator keeps running.
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