The Smuggler

When I began my career in teaching twenty years ago, I
promised myself I would never allow myself to get involved
with a student. I'd been Dean at Jefferson High School for
six years. Every teacher, counselor or dean had at least one
student who winds up being a thorn in his side. Joey was my
thorn.

Joey was a real problem. I was beginning to worry that
he intended to make high school his life long ambition. He
was nineteen, would be twenty by graduation... if he
graduated. His file had become a permanent fixture on my
desk. Hardly a week went by without him being called into my
office for some infraction of school policy.

I had seriously considered expelling Joey. The problem
was, however, that he was so damn good-looking, I kind of
enjoyed having him around now and them. That and the fact
that from his grade point average it appeared that he might
actually manage to pass the year.

I wasn't terribly surprised when Joey's teachers started
coming to me with their suspicions that Joey was selling
drugs at school. At one time or another he had done just
about everything else. Joey was a smart kid. It really
pissed me off how he was wasting his life.

All the students had left for the day. I just happened
to be passing the detention hall when I noticed Joey sitting
in the room all alone. I waited until his detention time was
up before asking him to accompany me to my office. By this
time it was late, everyone else had gone home. Joey and I
were quite alone in the building.

Joey had little respect for authority. He liked to play
tough. He had the walk and the talk, but beyond that he was
mostly hot air.

Joey seemed unusually nervous as we entered my office
and I closed the door behind us. I knew it had nothing to do
with being called to my office. He practically lived outside
my door. There was something else making him uneasy.
Something he was afraid of.

"Why are you so nervous?"

Joey tried to be casual, shrugging his narrow shoulders,
but his overall manner remained anxious and intense. "Who's
nervous? he asked. "I've got things to do that's all. How
long's this gonna take?"

"Joey, I'd like you to pull up the front of your shirt."
He snickered awkwardly.

"Why? What's the idea?"

"Just do it," I insisted.

Joey did as I asked, revealing his smooth, flat belly.
"Take it off."

The boy's huge dark eyes opened wide. "What?"

"You heard me. I said take off your shirt."

Joey rolled his eyes in disgust, pulling his shirt off
over his head. "What is this, a strip search or something?"
he scoffed.

"You got that right," I confirmed. "I always knew you
were a bright boy. Now, if you would be so kind as to hold
you arms up over your head and turn around slowly.

Suddenly Joey didn't seem quite so cocky. An expression
of deep concern became etched on his handsome young face.
"This is bull," he grumbled, but did exactly as he'd been
told.

Joey was one of the most attractive young men I'd ever
seen. I found it difficult keeping my mind on the matter at
hand. His smooth male flesh kept pulling my thoughts in
other directions.

"Please, have a seat." I motioned to a chair behind
him. As he sat down I could see his mind at work, attempting
to anticipate my next move. "Take off your shoes and socks
and hand them over.

Joey laughed as he untied his shoes.

"You still haven't told me what this is all about."

"Well, shall we just say, it has come to my attention
that you are bringing more than yourself to school."

"What the hell's that suppose to mean?" muttered Joey,
handing me his shoes and socks. "I doubt if you're gonna
care much for the way they smell."

I looked inside his grubby tennis shoes and shook out
his dingy white socks. "Just how far are you gonna take
this?" asked Joey.

"As far as necessary to get to the truth. Stand up and
take off your pants."

Joey rose to his feet, glaring at me defiantly. "What
happens if I tell you to go to hell?"

"If you refuse to cooperate, you'll force me to pick up
the phone and call the police. So you decide. What's it
gonna be?"

He reached down and hastily unfastened his pants,
letting them drop to the floor. "Happy now?" he snapped.

"I said take them off. That means completely."

Joey took off his pants and tossed them across my desk
into my lap. I thoroughly inspected the contents of his
pockets. I wasn't discouraged when I found nothing
incriminating: keys, wallet and a couple of dollars in loose
change. It was the sizable bulge in the crotch of his
underwear that had aroused my suspicions.