Panzina's Passion

by Teresa D. Patterson

  Novels

  1. Big Tobe: Retribution

  2. Ex-boyfriend

  3. Fetish

  4. Food Stamp B!tches

  5. Headlines

  6. In Need of a Joshua Man

  7. Panzina’s Passion

  8. Project Queen

  9. Project Queen 2

  10. Spin Cycle

  11. They Call Me Mr. G-Spot

  12. Uncrossing Her Legs

  13. What About Your Friends

  14. When There Are No Tomorrows

  Novellas

  15. My Cousin, Lenore

  16. Under the Oak Tree

  17. Unseen Wounds

  Young Adult Titles

  18. Janell Has an Attitude

  19. Sequoia Denise, Just a Kid

  Short Stories

  20. Boy Who Needed Someone & Other Stories, The

  21. Christmas Morning

  22. Daddy Never Loved Me

  23. Office Grapevine

  24. Power in Words, The

  25. She Gets What She Want

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Teresa D. Patterson is the author of several novels, novellas, and short stories. She is the founder of Edit Again Publications. She attended St. Petersburg College and has a degree in business. She resides in Florida with her three children.

  www.teresadpatterson.net

  SPIN CYCLE

  EXCERPT

  ***CAUTION***

  This excerpt contains strong language, sex, adult situations and is intended for mature open-minded readers, only.

  PROLOGUE

  Principal Austin Johnson monitored the hallway as the students filed into the school building, rushing toward their lockers and classrooms. He was a tall, handsome, light-complexioned brother, with a smooth skin tone. He stood six-feet four, wearing a three-pieced suit and tie. His broad shoulders and muscular physique were hidden underneath the suit, but he wore it well.

  “Slow it down, Johnny Ridgecrest. Don’t make me send you to the office to get a detention for running in the hallways. You shouldn’t have been macking with the girls in the bus circle. You wouldn’t be late getting to class,” he called out causing the young teen to blush in embarrassment.

  “Awww man, Mr. Johnson. Why you gotta put me on blast?” Johnny mumbled good-naturedly, hurrying past the principal.

  “Destiny. Destiny. Stopping slamming that locker door before someone’s hand gets smashed in it. Get to class. Children, the warning bell has rang, you have thirty seconds to get to class. I need these hallways cleared in thirty seconds,” he bellowed. The children scattered, giggling as they did so.

  Austin watched as a stray student with big-framed glasses, rushed past shooting him a nervous glance. He wore a huge backpack and struggled to stand up straight with the weight of it.

  “Why are you giving me that guilty look?” Mr. Johnson asked. “Yes, you’re late.”

  “No fair. My bus just got here,” the student whined. “And I didn’t even have a chance to go to my locker yet. And I just bet I’m not going to be able to open that combination lock on the first try. Drats!”

  “Okay. Okay,” Austin said, waving him off. “Go to the front office to get a pass so you won’t be marked tardy by your teacher.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Johnson,” the boy said gratefully and shuffled off down the hallway. Austin smiled and shook his head.

  Another hectic week had just begun at Thurgood Marshall Middle School. As he headed toward his office, he spotted Mrs. Greta Stevenson entering the building. He rushed to hold the door open for her.

  “Thank you, Dr. Johnson,” she said. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Stevenson,” he greeted. She smiled and breezed past him. He caught a scent of the soft fragrance she wore. For some reason, he turned around. That’s when he saw another teacher, Larry Newsome, watching Greta.

  He knew that look. It was one of lust and longing. It was a predatory gaze, and it unnerved him.

  Larry must have felt Austin’s eyes burning into him because he glanced in his direction. Knowing that he’d been caught gawking at Mrs. Stevenson’s ass didn’t embarrass him in the least. He nodded his head in the direction of the principal and walked off.

  I already don’t like him, Austin thought. He gives me a bad vibe.

  Chapter One

  Greta Stevenson groaned as she reluctantly pushed herself into a sitting position on the couch. She wanted to continue lounging, but the three baskets of dirty laundry glared at her. She wished she could wave a magic wand and make them float outside and into the trunk of her car.

  Those liars, she fumed. They told me my shit would be working last Tuesday. Now, here it is damn near two weeks later and my washer and dryer are still on the blink. That’s why I detest living in apartment complexes. The trifling maintenance personnel never fix jack. And when they do—the crap still doesn’t work.

  She couldn’t wait until she signed the lease on her four-bedroom home in south Saint Petersburg. Her new house would be located on Pinellas Point Drive, known as The Point. Quite a few of the famed and the elite purchased homes in that area. She’d worked hard to earn her bread and butter and finally it all seemed worth it. She looked forward to leaving the apartment behind that she’d shared with her deceased husband, Gerald, and start anew.

  She sighed as she picked up one of the baskets of clothes. Thinking about Gerald always brought about a melancholy mood because it reminded her of the letter and the pictures.

  I wouldn’t go there. I won’t think about it. He’s gone and I just need to get him out of my head forever. But how?

  She blinked back the tears and shook Gerald out of her memory and concentrated on something else.

  She was tired. She didn’t get home from work until almost seven that evening. She had to play taxi cab driver for two of her students. Their trifling parents hadn’t bothered to show up to get them after detention ended. That wasn’t right. She couldn’t understand why some people didn’t just burn their damn tubes and not have children. Everyone wasn’t cut out to be parents.

  She couldn’t stand smart-alecky kids who didn’t know the meaning of the word respect. However, she didn’t fault the child. She blamed the parent for not teaching them manners.

  Greta had been teaching for fifteen years and her nerves were at the breaking point. She had just about enough of dealing with other people’s demon seed. It might be time for a career change.

  Take today, for instance, she had to stay late because two want-to-be-thugs thought it was cute to practice rolling blunts with their notebook paper the previous week. That type of behavior would not be tolerated in her classroom. She sent a letter home to their parents and received no response. She followed up with a phone call. One of the boy’s mothers had been downright rude. She gave Greta a piece of her mind for disturbing her. She pretty much stated that she could care less about her child’s behavior. Her exact words had been: I don’t give a fuck about what he does at school, as long as he doesn’t do it at home.

  Speaking to the other boy’s father had been like having a conversation with Forest Gump. The brother had been off in the ozone layer or something. He kept inhaling and coughing making her think that he might be smoking through the phone.

  She had no choice but to assign the two children an after school detention, hoping that would convince them of their wrong-doing. Hence, the reason she arrived home late. Neither of the boy’s parents came to pick them up. She ended up taking them home. She simply refused to let them walk and felt it was her responsibility to make sure they arrived at their doorsteps safely.

  Greta took the first basket of clothes to the car and placed them in the trunk. Today hadn’t been any better. The incident with the two boys was actually mild in comparison. She shook her head as she thought about it.

  She’d encountered a little foul-mouthed heifer that made her blood pressure rise. Little Miss I’m America’s Next Top Model came to school with her breasts on display. When Gr
eta advised her to put on a jacket, Miss Too Grown for My Own Good got an attitude and told Greta to kiss her ass.

  Greta was known for being a no-nonsense type of teacher that didn’t take crap off the children. That’s how she’d persevered for so many years. You had to have patience, guts and a backbone to be around hardheaded, wayward teens all day, damn near every day, for so long. Not too many of her students tried her because they knew that she didn’t play the radio when it came to her classroom.

  For some reason, Miss Pumps and a Bump stepped over the boundaries. Greta had to count to ten and it took the patience of Job to hold herself back. She almost came across her desk and rolled the girl’s head around like she was on the Exorcist.

  The new principal just so happened to be sitting in the classroom that morning and sent the Stripper in Training to the office. It was a good thing, too, because Greta would have probably lost her job and caught a charge on the same day if he hadn’t intervened. She’d never been disrespected in such a manner in all her years of teaching.

  Greta finished putting the last basket of clothes into the car and shut the trunk. She wasn’t looking forward to the visit to the Laundromat up the street. Some unsavory characters hung around the facility. Since it was opened twenty-four seven, the homeless saw fit to loiter there. Most of the time, they just begged for spare change. Even though they were probably harmless, Greta couldn’t let her guard down because she’d heard of reported rapes and muggings in the area.

  Surprisingly, when she pulled up, she found the place empty.

  Good. I won’t have to keep looking over my shoulder, she thought. It was semi-dark, and a single woman always had to be cautious. She popped the trunk and took the clothes inside.

  After she had arrived home, took a shower, and cooked dinner, she sorted the clothes. If only she’d gotten home earlier, she’d be done with the laundry by now. A dusty, white, clock on the wall ticked. It was eight thirty. It should take her no more than an hour and a half, two hours tops to wash and dry all of her clothes. She threw them into vacant washing machines, poured in detergent, and added coins to begin the wash cycle.

  The washing machines hummed and she sat down and began grading papers. Minutes later, she heard someone enter, but didn’t look up, assuming it was a vagrant.

  Damn. There goes my concentration.

  “Mrs. Stevenson, fancy seeing you here,” someone called out. She looked up into the handsome face of Principal Austin Johnson.

  “Hello, Dr. Johnson,” she greeted politely. She saw him struggling to pull a large container of clothes inside. She put her folders on the seat next to her and went over to hold the door open for him.

  “Thank you,” he said, graciously.

  “No problem. So, what brings you here?” she asked.

  “I guess the same thing that brings you here,” he replied, pointing at his clothes. “Dirty laundry.” The two chuckled.

  Greta returned to her seat, discreetly surveying Mr. Johnson as he went about the business of putting his clothes into the washing machines.

  Mr. Johnson was the new principal of the middle school where she taught. She didn’t really know much about him, just what she’d heard. He’d graduated from Northeast High School, enlisted in the Army, serving a four year term. He returned to St. Petersburg to teach children. He’d been a juvenile justice counselor, a teacher at the recreational center, an assistant principal at one of the elementary schools, and now he was the principal of the middle school.

  She heard that he’d been married, but was presently divorced. She wondered if he were dating anybody. She watched as he poured entirely too much detergent into the machine.

  She thought, a man that fine should not be doing his own laundry. I’d hand wash his drawers. Damn.

  Austin glanced her way and their eyes locked. Greta swallowed.

  Hell, I hope he can’t read my thoughts. Shoot, then again, I hope he can.

  “So, you almost went postal on that kid today, huh?” he said, smiling as he closed the lid on the washer. He had perfect white teeth and dimples. Standing at about six feet four, he was a tall refreshing drink of water. Greta’s throat suddenly became parched.

  “At times, it gets hard to brace myself. But, I’d never put a hand on a student,” she answered.

  “Sure you wouldn’t. I know you envision shaking one of ‘em like a bobble headed doll, though,” he joked. “I have those moments,” he admitted. “Especially being the new principal of a fundamental school. Whew,” he exhaled.

  “I can’t even begin to feel your pain, brother,” she sympathized.

  She got up to check her clothes. They’d stopped so she began taking them out of the machine.

  After she’d gotten out of the shower earlier she’d thrown on one of her hoochie mama skirts. Just because she was a teacher didn’t mean she had to dress like a nun when she was home.

  As she bent over, unknown to her, the cheerleader skirt rose in the back. That captured Mr. Johnson’s attention.

  “Um-” He cleared his throat. “You know, red is my favorite color.”

  “Excuse me?” she quipped, turning to stare at him innocently.

  “I said, red is my favorite color,” he repeated. “You’re wearing the hell out of them thongs,” he boldly stated. “You’re about to make a brother burst at the seams.”

  “Dr. Johnson.” Greta blushed. “I am so sorry. I had no idea.” She straightened up immediately, pulling self-consciously at the skirt’s hem.

  The thought that he’d been drooling at her ass cheeks turned her on. Hell, she knew that her body was together. She worked out three nights a week to keep everything toned to perfection. She wasn’t about to the let the fact that she was pushing up on forty keep her from feeling and being sexy. If the truth were told, she looked better now than she had when she was in her mid-twenties. She had rock hard abs, a slim twenty-four inch waist, a banging set of tits and a tight ass. To top it off, she was easy on the eyes. Her mocha colored skin was flawless and make-up free. She had a set of Angelina Jolie type lips that made a brother think dirty thoughts.

  Her attractiveness and attributes did not go unnoticed by Austin. She had nice, shapely legs. They looked well-toned in the short skirt she sported. Her smooth brown skin glowed, appearing inviting. He wanted to touch her to find out if she was as soft as she appeared to be.

  As Greta went to put her laundry into dryers, he watched. He willed her to bend over and show that red thong one more time. His member grew harder than a slab of concrete, the imprint straining against the front of his pants, as he thought about it.

  Since he’d made the comment about her panties, she wouldn’t look his way. Austin hadn’t played the aggressive role in a minute. He didn’t have to. Women threw themselves at him on a regular basis. Even some of the teachers, the ones who got paid to teach the future generation, were nothing but sluts. That’s how he ended up divorced. He’d been too worn out from screwing all the teachers, and hadn’t been able to get it up for his wife. That got old and she left him. He wasn’t mad at her though. If the roles had been reversed, he would have done the same thing.

  Mrs. Stevenson, he couldn’t quite figure her out. He’d been at the new school for almost three months and she hadn’t given him a second glance. He’d pulled her file and did some research. He couldn’t complain about her track record as a teacher. She was excellent in her field and he could tell she genuinely cared about the children. He saw it in her interactions with them in the hallway and from the glimpse he’d gotten sitting in her classroom.

  She wasn’t married. As far as he knew, she didn’t have a man in her life.

  So, what’s the deal? He wondered. He hoped she did like men. Was that it? Maybe she liked fish instead of beef.

  He would find out. If she swayed the other way, that was her prerogative. It would just be a damned shame for all that fineness to be wasted like that, though.

  He stood up to check the washer then he turned toward her, breakin
g the silence. “If I offended you, I apologize,” he said.

  Greta had her back turned, attempting to compose herself. She didn’t know why she was being betrayed by her body. Her swollen nipples strained against the thin blouse she wore as she pictured the two of them in some uncompromising positions. She bit the corner of her lip.

  She had to control her emotions. She’d never before contemplated doing something so wild and reckless, but she wanted to let him ravish her. She needed to feel him buried deep inside her.

  Her stomach churned at the thoughts. She turned toward him and smiled, pretending that he had no affect on her.

  “I don’t get easily offended,” she said. Her traitorous eyes fell on his crotch. “Let’s just cut the bullshit, okay? I don’t mince my words. I say what I mean and mean what I say. What about you?”

  Her heated gaze made his dick jump.

  So, she’s a dick bandit after all.

  “I’m pretty much straight forward,” he answered.

  “You want to fuck me, don’t you?” she asked.

  “Hell yes. Now, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “As long as it doesn’t get out, I’m down with it. But, I want to make one thing clear: I don’t mix business with pleasure.” She looked him straight in the eye. “This will be a one-time occurrence. Got that?”

  What the fuck ever.

  He called the shots. If he wanted another piece of ass after he’d test driven it, he’d get another piece. “Yeah, if that’s the way you want it,” he said, unblinking.