Diane Ross was suddenly aware of the young man who stood silently on her right, as she finished the vocabulary words she was writing on the board. She smiled inwardly as she thought of how he was so obviously infatuated by her, and she didn't have the heart to discourage him. He was a cute kid. He was only half a head taller than Diane, and she guessed he weighed maybe 150 or so. She had noticed how Eric seemed to be fascinated as she did her routine work around the art room. Diane had always been "strong for a girl," as her sisters had told her. The oldest of five kids, one brother, now 14, and three sisters ranging in age from 27 down to 17, the 29-year-old had always had the heaviest work to do helping her folks with the little ones. She helped bathe and dress her younger siblings, and always wound up giving the piggy-back rides, even after she was a senior in high school, and her then- 12-year-old "little" sister had outgrown Diane herself! It was obvious that Sylvia, by the seventh grade, was going to be the tall, athletic one of the girls, so Diane was constantly "proving" that, as the oldest, she was still the "best." If she was "strong for a girl," it was because she had had to be. Even now, at the annual family reunion, the chicken fights in the back yard always featured Diane and Sylvia against Dan and Amy for the finals, and Sylvia riding Diane seemed to always win. Diane suspected Dan may have been allowing this to happen the past four years or so, but she didn't mind. Amy was always disappointed, but, as the loser, she cheerfully gave the taller, heavier Sylvia the piggyback ride around the yard always reserved to the winners. It was the only time Diane ever got to ride, when Dan would "lose" these contests, and carry her around the yard, leading Amy till they almost dropped in sheer exhaustion and laughter.

Eric stood silently next to Mrs. Ross, waiting for her to acknowledge him, and enjoying the nearness of her.

"Yes, Eric," she finally said. "Is there a problem?"

"No, Mrs. Ross, I just need to use the restroom. May I?" Eric looked at her. She had just a trace of a smile, and a twinkle in her eyes. "She is amazing," he thought.

"Sure. Just take the pass, and be back in five minutes. Oh, and when you get back, I need a favor from you, if you have another few minutes after class." Diane looked at her watch. "It will be nearly time to leave when you return."

"Thank you," Eric replied. "I'd love to help you and I've got time."

* * * *

The rest of the Art 2 class was streaming out the door as Eric returned. He entered after the last person left and pulled the door closed behind him. "You needed a favor, Mrs. Ross?"

"Oh, Eric," she replied, smiling. "Yes, please. I have some bags of clay to stack on that second shelf, on top of the others." She indicated the steel storage racks at one end of the room. The shelves were about four feet high, stacked three levels, so the second shelf was just a little more than four feet off the floor, but the existing bags were stacked about two more feet high, making the level to stack the new ones at about six feet off the floor. "I need you to stand there and hand the bags up to me on this ladder." As she stepped up two steps, putting her delightful bottom at Eric's eye level, his pulse quickened along with his breathing rate. "OK Eric?" She looked down at the senior who was staring directly at her hips.

"Oh! Sure, Mrs. Ross," Eric said, finally, as his mind finally processed her words. "But wouldn't it be easier if I stood on the ladder and you handed me the bags?"

"These are pretty heavy, Eric," she replied. "I'm used to lifting them, and it takes more balance than strength, anyway." She watched the youngster carefully, and picked up on his discomfort. "But, if you would rather, I'll hand them up to you." She got back down and placed a hand on Eric's shoulder, brushing it as he passed her and they exchanged places.

Truth be told, Eric did appreciate the view and angle more from their original positions, but he felt duty-bound to take the manly stance, and do the heavier part of the task. "Oh no, I think I can handle them, especially if you can."

Suddenly, Mrs. Ross tensed. "Oh? You think because I'm a woman, I'm not supposed to be strong enough to lift a 50-pound bag?" She was smiling, but not happily. "Who do you think stacked the ones already there?" She reached down suddenly and picked up one of the bags. "Here," she said, and tossed it easily to Eric at chest level. Eric caught it and felt himself rocked back against the railing of the little step cart, as the 23-kg bag's weight pushed him off balance. "Oops! Sorry, Eric! I thought you were ready," she goaded him. She smiled as the slender boy had to use all his strength to reach the 6-foot level with the bag of clay. "Ready for the next one?"

Eric thought to himself, "OK, now I've done it. I've insulted her. I'm so dumb! How can I fix this?" He said aloud, "I'm sorry Mrs. Ross, I didn't mean you wouldn't be able to do this, I just wanted to be thoughtful, honest."

"Good. Great. Catch," and Diane tossed another bag, at the same location, right at Eric's chest.

"Oof," he grunted, and again leaned back against the safety rail. He labored to stack the bag on top of the last one. It was all he could do to press it up. And there were at least 8 more to go; no'10! There were a dozen, in all! He wasn't going to make it at this rate, that was for sure. Just as he was turning back toward his teacher, wham! In came another! This time Eric started a new stack, immediately next to the last one. When he turned to catch the next bag, there was none. Mrs. Ross was just standing there, grinning at him.

"Sure you want to stay there? I'll be glad to switch back," she suggested. She walked around to the bottom of the step-cart. Eric turned to face her, still about 18 inches above her. "Let me demonstrate something," she told him. Suddenly, to Eric's amazement, his teacher slipped one arm behind his knee, grabbed his wrist with her other hand, and easily pulled him face down across her shoulders, carrying him from the step-cart to the center of the room. She looked up at the boy who was staring at her helplessly and in total confusion, his head hanging on one collarbone, his legs dangling helplessly over the other. "How much do you weigh, Eric? I'd guess in the low 150's, right? Around 70 kg?" Eric could only nod his head yes. Mrs. Ross did three quick squats and easily straightened up again, finally setting the confounded boy on his feet on one of the art room work tables. "Turn around, Eric. Face away from me." The boy did as he was told. "Good. Now, step back, slowly." Again, Eric obeyed. He felt his thighs bump something behind him, then Mrs. Ross's hands were gripping them tightly as she pulled him back and down on to her shoulders. She walked back to the step-cart carrying him easily, and Eric finally began to enjoy the exhibition she was providing for his private pleasure. He was amazed and thrilled at how firm and solid the young woman felt beneath him. When they reached the step-cart, Diane scrunched down and his feet finally were back on the floor. She backed out and stood behind him. Quickly, she demonstrated her last feat--squeezing him around the waist and leaning back, lifting him several inches off the floor. She made three complete turns, as Eric hung there helpless in the young teacher's arms, finally stopping as he again faced the cart. Still, she held him off the floor, gently bouncing his weight in her arms. "OK, Eric? Understand now, that a "little woman' can be strong enough to do what she has to do?" She set him down.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, nearly breathlessly. "I really didn't mean to insult you or belittle you. I just thought'"

"It's OK Eric. Just forget about it. Sometimes I'm a little overly sensitive about being thought of as a member of the "weaker sex,'" Mrs. Ross told him. "Now, if you really want to help, stay there and hand those bags up to me. I know what I'm doing."

"OK, Mrs. Ross. Whatever you like," Eric smiled up at her. Maybe they were friends again. He leaned down, and lifted the next bag. God! It did seem heavy! How the hell could this little babe be that strong? He tossed a bag towards her as she had done for him, but it landed lower, near her knees. She caught it though, and straightened up. Eric admired her thigh and calf muscles as she did so. Then, as she reached up with the 50-lb bag he watched in unmasked admiration as her biceps, triceps, and forearm musculature all worked together in beautiful definition and harmony.

Diane looked down for the next bag and almost had to laugh out loud as she caught a glimpse of Eric's expression. "Eric, you don't see many fit and strong women, do you? Quit staring, and hand me the next bag!"

Eric smiled at her. One more semester of high school, but he knew at least Art was going to be enjoyable!