EDUCATIONAL EVALUATION, part 2

“Why don’t we go into the teachers’ room?” Stefano asked. “We will have to introduce Signorina Mazzi to the others, right? And I’m sure Signorina Bianchi would like to say hello to her colleagues.”

“Of course,” the two brunettes stated in unison before giving each other another look.

The three of them entered the adjoining room, The place buzzed with the sounds of chatter and the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Before she knew it, Alessia found herself between the arms of Giorgia Santoro, the charming Math teacher.

“My dear young lady, it has been a long time!” Giorgia said. Beyond, Alessia saw the friendly P.E. teacher, Alfredo Cantero, waving his hand joyfully in the air.

“Hey, amor!” he welcomed her. “I was looking forward to seeing you!”

Alessia reciprocated the greetings. Amid the friendly exchanges and shared laughter, she found herself engaged in conversations about everyone’s summer vacation, but also about curriculum changes and upcoming school events. Marco Gallo, the English teacher, already had many new ideas for the school year, while Lucrezia Fiore, the History teacher, talked on and on about the school trips—she hoped that the budget would allow them to visit Paris and the north of France. Alessia kept smiling, genuinely happy to see herself again among such an extraordinary group of professionals—and good people. Yet, her mind wandered back again and again to the one person who was new to the group.

In the end, Alessia could no longer avoid ignoring her. Martina Mazzi was already surrounded by several teachers, drew like moths to a flame, their goofy smiles accompanying the Neapolitan’s engaging laughter, which echoed through the room like a melody that captivated everyone around her. Martina certainly knew how to attract attention to herself, and Alessia’s analytical mind soon realized that observing the feminine gestures, gazes and movements of the new Geography teacher was like looking in a mirror, a reflection of herself in another body. The director of the liceodidn’t leave Martina’s side and soon, though participating in the discussions, Alessia couldn’t shake the sense of being on some kind of periphery.

You are being negative, she ended up saying to herself. Exchanging comments and compliments with her colleagues, Alessia realized that she herself retained her own leading role—only Martina had added a second spotlight. The teachers’ room, which had always been her stage, was now a two-voice show, a shared theater in which the attention of her colleagues was no longer guaranteed—not without fighting for it.

Two, three minutes passed, and Alessia continued to feel in a tug-of-war for attention in that silent struggle under the surface of smiles and greetings. It was then that she realized she wasn’t the only one casting furtive glances: she found that her discreet observations were reciprocated by Martina, who was also stealing glances at her, subtly, cautiously assessing her from head to toe. It was obvious that the brief mutual comparison from earlier was not over for Martina, and Alessia was more than willing to go along with it.

Without losing the thread of the conversations around her, Alessia started to dissect Martina’s physique with her big brown eyes, piece by piece, drawing parallels with her own body to see if that first impression of equivalence had really been accurate. First of all, Alessia looked again at Martina’s chest, and could only admit that, under her red sweater, the other teacher brought to the game the same equipment that she. The Roman beauty had never felt any complex about not being particularly busty, for she knew that her boobs had the perfect size for her slim, tall body, and that they were so firm and beautiful that no one had ever complained that they were full B-cups instead of double D-cups or anything like that. However, in that resonance of equality between breasts, Martina’s seemed to follow the same script of feminine appeal, distinct firmness and ideal size.

The unspoken dialogue of curves continued with Alessia lowering her gaze to the Neapolitan’s midsections. The tight-fitting clothes left no doubt that her own flat, defined belly was echoed in Martina’s abdomen, just as the other brunette’s waist and hips mirrored the proportional grace of her own shapely hourglass silhouette. The trail that followed Alessia’s gaze then inevitably strayed to Martina’s ass, and she observed, almost mesmerized, the rounded contours and toned firmness delicately framed by Martina’s tight-fitting jeans. The Literature teacher bit her lower lip as she became aware that her own constricted jeans hugged her buttocks with the same shattering effect, creating a vision identical in size and density. Alessia’s inquisitive eyes reached the end of the landscape of shared similarities as she looked at Martina’s legs. With both dressed in jeans, it was difficult to discern all the nuances, but the lines of the new teacher’s legs seemed to reflect Alessia’s in strength, elegance and length—she was surprised to see how the fabric squeezed Martina’s thighs to exhibit a healthiness that had nothing to envy to her own.

As Alessia’s mental checklist ticked off similarities, the feeling of being in front of a twin came back to her to haunt her and cause a very thin, almost imperceptible layer of nervous sweat to begin to cover her skin. From the neck down, she saw no difference between Martina and herself—each feature, each curve had a reflection that wasn’t returned by a mirror, but by the body of another woman.

Clothes can be deceiving, she said to herself. And a good bra works wonders. So I don’t think we’re that equal…

Alessia knew that at the liceothere would be no occasion to see Martina in less clothing than now so, she felt frustrated at the impossibility of answering the questions she urgently wanted to clarify. Meanwhile, the silent dialogue continued with Martina also absorbed in that impromptu comparison, her large brown eyes following Alessia’s every movement around the room with subtle and meticulous exploratory glances at her body. Alessia found herself not so unconsciously thrusting out her chest and arching her body to accentuate her hips and ass under the other teacher’s exhaustive analysis, and Martina was quick to imitate that restrained curve-flaunting dance. Alessia found herself in a situation unfamiliar to her as what at most would have been a mere professional clash was quickly turning into a physical rivalry between the two beautiful young teachers.

Finally craving a shot of coffee, Alessia left behind a conversation she had lost track of minutes earlier to approach the coffee machine located on a table in the back corner of the teachers’ room. The murmur of chatter was left behind her, and Alessia thought she heard beyond the door the first students entering the liceo. Wanting everything to return to normal, the Roman beauty stretched out her hand towards one of the cups, only to find herself unexpectedly side by side with Martina. Both women were surprised by the unexpected encounter, and only managed to mumble a couple of incoherent words.

In the confined space around the coffee machine, the air immediately crackled with an unspoken tension, the thousandfold compared bodies of the brunettes positioned slightly closer than the usual social distance dictated. Alessia’s initial impatience to drink her coffee gave way to a false calm where, with measured movements, she began to pour herself the needed hot beverage without her hands and arms touching Martina’s while the other teacher poured her own cup of coffee. That was easier thought than done, for the nervousness was mutual, and at one point the right arms of both women almost got tangled as they reached for the sugar. But when Alessia finally brought her coffee to her lips, the dose of hot energy gave her what she needed to face Martina.

“So, Professoressa Mazzi, new city, new job, huh?” she began, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. “How did the transition go?”

“Quite good, actually,” Martina replied with a small smile. “The move was a little tough, but now that I’m here, I’m adapting quickly to the city.”

“Naples must be quite different from Rome,” Alessia affirmed.

“Yes, it is,” the other brunette said. “Bigger, with a lot of history in every street. But above all, I think the main difference is the people. For example, it has struck me that the people here are colder than in my city,” she added. “Fortunately, here in the liceo everyone is very friendly.” Martina took a long sip of her coffee, looking away from Alessia for a couple of seconds. “Almost everyone.”

Tension hung in the air at Martina’s hint, and Alessia had to force her own fake smile to silence what she wanted to say to the other teacher. With no pleasure reaching their eyes, the two brunettes sipped some more coffee before continuing to talk.

“Well, we have a good working group here, very close and united,” Alessia commented, her steaming cup of coffee raised in her hand. “Don’t be upset if you encounter a little resistance from someone, after all, you’re the new girl. You don’t have to be liked by everyone.”

“Oh, Professoressa Bianchi, I understand you perfectly,” Martina answered. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve met someone who doesn’t accept that I’m here to stay. Change is usually refreshing. A new face, a new dynamic, you know, but sometimes some people don’t like that because of the inherent threat of change itself.”

“Well…” Alessia’s brown eyes sank into Martina’s briefly and she replied. “You assume that change is always for the better. It can be challenging, but you can’t take for granted that a new perspective is necessarily better.”

“In the end things fall by their own weight, and the truth always comes out,” the Neapolitan beauty commented imperturbably.

“Agreed, although the truth may not be what you expect,” Alessia remarked, choosing her words with precision. “In my life, I have had to deal with many people who have not been able to accept that their expectations were unrealistic.”

“Perhaps it has nothing to do with being unrealistic, but rather that they are different from yours. Perhaps even confrontational,” Martina said before taking a sip of coffee.

“Well, if I’m honest with you, ProfessoressaMazzi, I’m not afraid of anything confrontational.” Her eyes met Martina’s more deeply now and, for a moment, the room felt smaller. “Competition does have its merits.”

“I’m very glad that we feel the same way in this respect,” Martina replied. “Challenges keep things interesting. Keeps us on our toes, don’t you think?”

“Again, we are on the same page,” the Roman teacher answered. “Although allow me the audacity to believe that you don’t quite understand what you’re getting into.”

“Oh, Professoressa Bianchi.” Martina bent her head to one side, her smile radiating measured arrogance. “I understand perfectly.”

***

Words: 1808.