See Me After Class

by Quinn, Meghan

  I switch the vibrator on, the buzzing sound easy to hear in the quiet classroom. Her legs clench and I smile so hard, my cheeks start to hurt.

  “What’s that buzzing sound?” Nyema asks.

  Greer laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, I . . . uh . . .”

  I turn it off; her legs relax.

  “I think it’s the air conditioner.”

  “Oh, okay, how annoying. I’ll put a word in with maintenance.”

  I turn it back on and press harder against her clit.

  “Oh, there it goes again,” Greer says, her voice strained. “Darn that air conditioner. Keeps us c-cool, but . . . oh God.” She swallows hard. “Sorry, I have a . . . um, my back. Oo, it’s . . . hello, it’s cramping up. Old volleyball . . . wooo”—she blows out a long breath—“injury.”

  I switch the vibrator off.

  “Oh, maybe you should get up and stretch.”

  “Nope, good . . . I’m good.”

  “Okay. Well, I wanted to talk to you about the volleyball team.”

  I turn on the vibrator.

  “Oh, dear God . . . what about them?” she asks, her voice attempting to sound casual. “Sorry, little hyped up from the buzzing.” Technically, that’s not a lie. “It’s been driving me nuts all day.”

  “Understandable. Anyway, we’ve a bit of a bus issue for the game tonight. There aren’t any available. Could I ask you and Stella to drive two twelve-passenger vans to the game?”

  “Umm, yeah. Sure.” Her legs clutch around my hand like a vise. “Do we have permission to do that?”

  “Yes, the permission slips the parents signed at the beginning of the season cover that.”

  I ramp up the vibration.

  “Yes!” she says loudly. “Yes, that would . . . uh-huh, yup, we can do that.”

  “Wonderful.” Nyema pauses and then says, “I’ll send maintenance over after school, get that fixed for you.”

  “Th-thank you.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Thank you for being flexible.”

  “Of course.”

  “Door shut?” Nyema asks.

  “Pl-lease,” Greer stutters.

  The door clicks shut, Greer exhales, and I dip the vibrator closer.

  “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” she whispers. “Oh, fuck, Arlo.” And then she’s coming. From under the desk, I watch her convulse, her entire body shuddering as she rides out her orgasm.

  When her legs fall open again, I take that moment to remove the vibrator and press my mouth against her arousal, lapping up every last drop. She lets out a long moan. I push her away from the desk and crawl out to observe her.

  Cheeks red.

  A light sheen of sweat on her upper lip.

  Completely sated.

  “I hate you,” she says, her beautiful eyes opening up to me.

  “No, you don’t.” I reach over, place the vibrator in one of her drawers, and then turn to leave.

  She grabs my hand, though, and stands on wobbly legs. I help steady her, but once she’s set, her eyes go from hazy lust to pure anger.

  She pushes at my chest and asks, “Are you insane?”

  “No.”

  “Arlo, you could have gotten us in serious trouble.”

  “Maybe. Good cover with the air conditioning.” I tip her chin up. She swats my hand away.

  “Stop acting like what you just did was nothing.”

  “It wasn’t nothing.” I grip her hip and pull her in tight so she can feel me, how heated and turned on I am. “It very much was something.”

  “You could have gotten me fired.”

  I shake my head. “A mere slap on the wrist.”

  “She doesn’t like promiscuous activity.”

  “Was that promiscuous?”

  “Ugh.” She nudges me away and pushes her hands through her hair. “You’re infuriating.”

  “Normally, people are calmer after having an orgasm like you just did.”

  “And normally, people have those orgasms in a safe environment, not a classroom. And I can’t believe you didn’t lock the door. Were you hoping for someone to walk in?”

  “More fun like that.” I wink. “Didn’t think it’d be Nyema though. That was entertaining.”

  Greer points her finger at the door, undeniably upset. “Get out. Get out now. Do not come in here again, do you hear me?”

  I move, but not toward the door. I move toward her and back her against her whiteboard. I reach up and cup her cheek, angling her jaw up.

  “Don’t be mad at me.”

  “I am.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “I can’t just switch it off like that, Arlo. I’m trying to prove myself at this school, and you’re making that hard.”

  “You’re making me hard.”

  Growling, she says, “Are you even listening to me?”

  I slowly nod and lick my lips. “I am. And I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  Her brow furrows. “Really?”

  I chuckle and stroke my thumb over her cheek, trying to tell myself to walk away, that this hold right here, the way my thumb loves rubbing her cheek, it’s too intimate. It’s too much. But I can’t stop myself. I hate that she’s upset with me, that anger resulted from this, rather than lust.

  “I won’t fuck you under your desk again. Now, on top of your desk, that’s another story.” I step away and stick my hands in my pockets. I give her a small once-over and say, “You look beautiful today, by the way. And when your face is flushed like that, freshly fucked, it simply adds to your beauty.”

  I start to walk away, when she calls out, “Arlo?”

  I look over my shoulder.

  “You’re forgetting your vibrator.”

  “That’s yours, Miss Gibson. I suggest you take it home. You don’t want the air conditioner acting up in the middle of class, do you?”

  She purses her lips. “I don’t. But, hey, we need to talk.”

  I smirk. “Good luck tonight.”

  “Arlo, I’m serious.”

  Yeah, I can hear it in her tone, but I’m not ready to talk, so instead, I leave, thinking how that was more satisfying than I thought it’d be.

  Chapter Fifteen

  GREER

  “Didn’t expect to see you here. I saw that you guys won tonight,” Gunner says, breaking the silence in the gym.

  From the bleachers, I give him a soft smile and then turn back to my notebook, where I’ve been writing down notes for class, notes that have morphed into realizations . . . feelings . . . and emotions.

  I’m conflicted, and there’s only one person to blame: Arlo Turner.

  He has me convinced that I want more from him than secret orgasms. He has me feeling like . . . like I could possibly start something more.

  And I honestly don’t know how I feel about that.

  He’s been so cold toward me, and now, he’s soft at times, dedicated, leading me to believe that he cares about me.

  He’s mercurial.

  He’s unpredictable.

  He’s addicting.

  And he’s toying with me.

  I desperately want to talk to him, ask him what his intentions are, because even though I’ve been a more-than-willing participant in these one-on-one orgasmic interactions, I also know this is not who I am. I’ve never been the girl to sneak around and search out pleasure, and only pleasure. For me, sex goes hand in hand with intimacy, with a relationship, and even though Arlo makes me feel out of this world, his refusal to let me touch him, hold him, kiss him . . . it pains me.

  I’m a lover, a feeler, the girl who not only deserves to be intimate, but demands it when physical attraction crosses over to more.

  As Gunner approaches me, I say, “Hey, yeah, we did. I dropped off the van and thought I’d try to catch up on a few thoughts.” I snap my notebook shut, not wanting him to see anything.

  “Looks like more than just thoughts. You okay?” He presses his finger between my eyes, smoothing out the furrow in my brow.

  “Yea
h,” I sigh, but I sound less than convincing.

  “Sounds like it.” He bumps his shoulder with mine. “Come on, you can talk to me.”

  Ha, yeah, okay.

  Let me just talk to one of Arlo’s best friends about how the underwear in the hallway was mine, thanks to Arlo and his sinful mouth.

  “I’m really fine.” I shove my notebook into my backpack and zip it up. “I should get going. I’m starving, and that game has taken every last bit of strength from me.”

  “Perfect. We were just headed to the bar for some dinner. Why don’t you join us?”

  “Who’s we?” I ask, a lift to my brow.

  Gunner chuckles. “Just me and Romeo. Don’t worry, you’re safe. Turner has retired to his abode. I know this because that’s what he texted me when I asked if he wanted to grab a beer. Pretentious ass.”

  “Just you and Romeo? Does that mean you’ll dish the goods on your best friend?”

  A large smile spreads across Gunner’s handsome face. “Anything you want to know, we’re here to hand out all the details.”

  “In that case, I’m in.”

  * * *

  “These garlic fries are hitting the spot,” Romeo says, picking one up and shoving it in his mouth.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for food,” I say, wiping my truffle-coated fingers on my napkin.

  Romeo arrived at the Atomic Saloon before us and, like the amazing man that he is, had drinks and an appetizer of truffle garlic fries already at the table when we arrived.

  “You know, I’m happy Gunner ran into you at the gym,” Romeo says, bringing his lager to his mouth. “I don’t think we get enough time to sit down and chat with you.”

  “Because your overlord is always bogarting you two,” I say with a grin.

  “Overlord? You think Turner is our overlord?” Gunner asks.

  “Uh . . . yeah.”

  Gunner and Romeo exchange glances, playful smirks on their faces, and then they both shrug. “Yeah, that’s an accurate description,” Romeo says. “But he had his chance tonight of breaking up the prank band and he missed it.”

  “We should take a picture and send it to him.”

  I shake my head. “Or we can keep it a secret and be in cahoots, you know, like the good old peeing-blue days.”

  Gunner rubs his chin. “I do like being in cahoots.” He smacks the table. “We keep it a secret.”

  “That way we can talk about him and he won’t be the wiser about it.” Romeo lifts his glass and says, “To gabbing all the gossip.”

  I can toast to that. I lift my glass, and we all clink right before we tip back and drink.

  When we set our glasses down, Gunner picks up a fry and says, “What do you want to know?”

  “Oh . . . uh . . . I mean, we don’t really have to talk about him.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Romeo asks. “Is he still being a dick to you?”

  Hmm . . . what a complicated question.

  After what happened under the desk, I’d say no, but then again, he runs so hot and cold, I honestly have no idea what’s going through his mind. And then he said I looked beautiful. It’s moments like those that have me wondering, craving more.

  “Uh, not really,” I answer. “He’s calmed down, but then again, we haven’t been poking the bear, and I haven’t rallied the troops to bang on their desks, so I’m pretty sure he’s content with himself.”

  “Sounds about right,” Romeo says. “I swear, that guy needs to loosen up.”

  “Oh?” I ask. “What, uh, what do you suppose would loosen him up?”

  “Getting laid,” Gunner says, picking up another fry.

  “That’s such a man thing to say,” Romeo scoffs.

  Gunner raises his brows. “Last time I checked, I have a penis. Therefore, I am a man.”

  I chuckle as Romeo says, “Yeah, but show some class, dude.” Turning to me, Romeo says, “In the words of Keiko, Arlo needs coitus.”

  I snort.

  Gunner scoffs. “How is that different than what I said?”

  “Has hints of maturity and refinement.”

  “Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

  Chuckling, I ask, “So, how come you two don’t help the poor, cardigan-wearing man out?”

  Romeo finishes off the last fry, dusts his hands off on his napkin, and says, “Ever since I’ve known Arlo, he hasn’t been one to talk about relationships, or even getting some, for that matter. I think the only reason I know he’s not gay is because of the way I’ve seen him check out women. Other than that, he’s very private when it comes to that part of his life.”

  Huh, that’s interesting.

  I can guarantee he’s not gay. I think that was debunked the moment he took me on his kitchen island . . . and on my desk . . . and under it . . .

  “Huh. Now that you point it out, I don’t think I’ve ever even heard him talk about a”—Gunner looks me in the eyes—“excuse the indecency, but I’ve never heard him talk about a conquest. Or a one-night stand. Or . . . anything, for that matter.”

  “He seems very proper,” I say, trying to add something to the conversation.

  “His upbringing made him that way. Rich grandparents, boarding school, all that fun stuff.”

  “He went to boarding school?” I ask, not realizing that at all.

  “Oh yeah, him and Coraline. When they were old enough, their grandparents sent them to a boarding school in New Hampshire. They came back for holidays and a portion of summer, but they spent a good amount of their lives living far away from home and were demanded to be excellent in everything they did. Found that nugget out one drunken night in his backyard. He had a few too many drinks and was talking about his childhood. No clue why.”

  “I brought Hot Cheetos. He said he’d never had one before, and we both took offense,” Romeo cuts in. “We demanded to know why, and that’s when he went on a rant about his childhood.”

  “Oh yeah.” Gunners nods as my mind starts to whirl, connecting the dots.

  Why he’s so proper.

  Why he feels like he’s holding on to something when I’m near him, as if he doesn’t want to lose control.

  Why he’s so adamant about excellence.

  Why he’s so closed off.

  “If he weren’t giving off strong Alpha vibes, I’d consider him a virgin.” Romeo takes a sip of his water.

  Gunner laughs. “There’s no way in hell Arlo Turner is a virgin.”

  Yeah . . . he’s not.

  “But hey, he’s not rude anymore, right?” Romeo asks.

  “Uh, yeah, I mean . . . he’s fine.” I pick up my beer and take a giant gulp, hoping they can’t read me.

  “Do you know what that tells me?” Gunner says with a knowing look, and I slowly begin to panic, thinking he might see through me. “That we need to pull some more pranks on him.”

  Romeo smacks his hands together and says, “I couldn’t agree more. What do you say, Greer?”

  I look between the two, noting the excitement in their eyes. “I, uh . . . I think I barely scraped by without the true wrath of your overlord. Pretty sure I’m going to stay out of this one.”

  “Ugh, come on. You were perfect to plant the seed.”

  “Yeah, and guess who he’s going to come to first if his pee is blue again?”

  “True.” Gunner taps his chin. “We’re just going to have to think of another way to annoy him.”

  Laughing, I say, “I love how your friendship works.”

  * * *

  “So . . . tell us, Greer, are you seeing anyone?” Romeo asks.

  Feeling a little loose from my three beers, I say, “Why? You interested, Romeo?”

  His eyes widen and he scrambles. “No, I mean, you’re hot, but no, because well, you know . . . uh . . .”

  I laugh and shove his shoulder. “I’m just playing with you.” I’m tempted to ask him about Stella, but I refrain. I don’t want to know, actually, because then I’d feel obligat
ed to say something to Stella, and from the uninterested vibe I get from her when he’s around, I’d say that’s not information she wants to obtain. Better if everyone is uninformed. “No one for me right now,” I answer, being honest, because even though I’ve received quite a few orgasms from Arlo, I think that’s all they are, orgasms.

  “So I’m the only attached one at the table?” Gunner asks, and I can’t help but chuckle. Who knew these two would be so invested in talking about love and relationships? But here we are, drinking beer and gabbing it up—like they said.

  “Looks like it,” Romeo answers.

  “Okay.” He rubs his hands together. “Then as the one currently in a relationship, it’s my duty to pry. How about some rapid-fire questions? You both have to answer.”

  “Dude, you know everything about me,” Romeo points out.

  “Yeah, but Greer doesn’t, and it’s only fair if she divulges information, so do you.”

  I glance over at Romeo. “He has a point.”

  “Fine. Let’s get to it.”

  Looking far too excited, Gunner considers his questions. “Greer, you answer first, then Romeo.” We both nod and then all three of us lean on the table, as if we’re in an interrogation room, a single light swinging above us. “Relationship or fling?”

  “Relationship,” I answer.

  “Both,” Romeo says.

  “Both, really?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “I’m not desperate to be in a relationship, but think it’d be cool to be in one if I find the right person, and I’m totally into a fling if it means zero strings attached.”

  Huh, I wouldn’t have guessed that.

  “Okay, men or women?”

  “Men,” I answer.

  “Women, duh.”

  “Okay, just checking. It’d be cool either way, but, you know, in case I run into someone who might work for either of you, as your friend in a relationship, it’s good to know what side you play for.” Clearing his throat, he asks, “Last time you had sex?”

  “Uhh . . .”

  I can feel my face flush, but before I can answer, Romeo says, “Four months ago, and my dick hates me for it.”