by Rochelle Alers, ReShonda Tate Billingsley, Brenda L. Thomas; Crystal Lacey Winslow
“You’re the one that keeps calling yourself that.”
“I never should’ve crossed that line with you, Mason. You said so yourself.”
“I don’t give a damn about a line. I want you. Now. And if it makes you feel like this isn’t personal, then I’ll give you money. I’ll do whatever you want. I have to have you, Max.”
He wouldn’t let up.
“I know you miss me. I could see it in the way you danced yesterday. Where are you? I’ll come get you.”
“No, don’t do that. Mason, I can’t keep letting you have your way with me. It’s just not right, the way you take me like you own me.”
“Listen to me, Maxie. Listen to me real close. I do own you, and when I see you, I’m going to rip your panties down to your knees and slide my mouth all over your pussy. Come to me, Maxie.”
I was weakening. I looked around the teacher’s lounge at the administrators opening their brown bags of leftovers and my fellow teachers trying to decide whether they would go to McDonalds or Big Georges for lunch. I wished I could tell them what I was being offered, but I couldn’t concentrate as Mason continued to seduce me with his words.
“You hear me, Max? I wanna fuck you right now.”
“I…I…I don’t have much time. I’m on my lunch hour.”
“Just let me ride you, Max. Let me ride that sweet ass.”
I met Mason at his car in Fairmount Park, and we sat there talking only briefly before he reclined his front seats as far as they would go. I tried to reason with him, but he quieted me with his kisses while unbuttoning my blouse and burying his head between my breasts. There was no need to resist, so I unzipped his pants.
“I love fucking you, Max, and you love it, too. I’m the one that knows how to satisfy you. You’re my bitch, remember that,” he said, while dipping his fingers under my panties, stroking me.
Mason was the only man that had ever talked dirty to me, called me names. I climbed onto him, and just like he said, he ripped my panties off, allowing me to spread my legs over his wide dick. It was true, Mason did know how to satisfy me.
And there in the afternoon on Snake Hill in Fairmount Park I rode Mason, rode him behind the tinted windows of his Mercedes-Benz 500 SL.
“I love this pussy, Max. I love you.”
But I learned that even though he’d exploded into me, he wasn’t finished, because he had to have all of me. He somehow managed to lean me against his car door while he bent over and licked me there, in that spot, on the left side of my clit, sending my body into multiple orgasms.
I was trembling when I got back to work. Mason had a way of doing that. I went to the ladies’ room in an attempt to gather myself, and that’s when I realized something was missing. My panties. I’d left them in his car.
The next morning, traffic was heavy. I was going to be late for work on the first day of classes. The first day of school was always the most exciting—everyone talking about summer vacation and taking in each other’s new looks.
Even though I taught math, I always started the school year off by having my students write a two-page essay on how they spent their summer break. I felt it was the best way for us to get to know one another and get things off to a good start. They agreed to do it only if I provided one, too. I couldn’t imagine what I would write, but I knew it wouldn’t be the truth.
One of the school rules was that you not befriend the students, but sometimes it was hard not to. Just showing an extra amount of attention would bring the students out of their shells. It was all about trust. Eleventh grade was hard, but if students passed, they could fly by the twelfth grade straight into graduation.
As the week went on, I found myself fighting off flirtatious young boys who had been honest enough to write about how they’d hustled over the summer. But I took a special interest in one young girl as she read her essay. Kareema read about how she’d worked for her uncle during the summer while her parents were going through a divorce. Her story was very moving, and it practically brought tears to my eyes.
After class Kareema asked to speak with me and told me that she was really looking forward to being in my class because she’d heard from my previous students that I had a way of making math fun. She also told me that she couldn’t wait to hear me read my summer essay.
That night I agonized over what I would write. I had to read it in the morning, and nothing I wrote made sense. Frustrated, I tried to call Lynn, something I’d done about three times, but I never got any responses to my messages. I left another message asking him to come see me so that we could talk about what happened.
Mason made himself available to me, but I wouldn’t let him come to the house. It was filled with things from my life, and I didn’t want him to know anything about me. I was beginning to enjoy his company, and he made me believe that my being a stripper didn’t make it impossible for us to have a relationship. But I knew I’d have to be careful. I hoped it wouldn’t be a big deal that I was a schoolteacher and had been a stripper for the summer. Why should he care?
Early the next morning I still hadn’t written my essay. I was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a blank piece of paper when I heard a car pull up. I went to the front door, where Lynn stood.
“I wanted to come by and bring the things you left at my apartment.”
“Lynn, why didn’t you answer my calls? I wanted to talk to you. Can you come in?”
“Max, I can’t. Believe me, I’ve tried to forget about what you did, but I can’t. I thought you were my woman, and I have to find out through a porno that I’m not the only one you’ve been fucking.”
“It wasn’t like that. I swear to you I didn’t fuck anybody else. If you just come inside and let me explain—”
But he wouldn’t step over the threshold. He set my boxes inside the door and walked back to his tractor.
“Lynn, it wasn’t like what you’re thinking. It was just—”
But he’d gotten into the cab of his tractor and pulled off, so I was talking to myself when I said, “—that I needed a different kind of summer break.”
And so I went into class that morning with eyes red from crying. Instead of reading from an essay, I began talking.
“This was the first summer I did something different, out of the norm. I spent the summer in Charlotte, North Carolina, helping my mother care for my grandfather. And while I was down there, I was exposed to another side of life. I’d had a preconceived notion that the South hadn’t grown like the rest of the world, but I was wrong. So I took a risk and tried a different way of living….”
When I finished, I was sure they thought I’d been shucking corn or picking cotton. But I’d gotten through it, and I was glad to be back in the classroom.
Week Two
It was still hot by the middle of September, and school was in full swing. I’d decided to see Mason, and for the first time he invited me to his house.
When I arrived on Sunday evening, I found his house to be quite simple, simpler than I expected. He had a raw bar set up with shaved ice that held every type of oyster I’d ever eaten and some I hadn’t. There were lemons to drizzle over shrimp, crab, and lobster and even sushi, which I wasn’t too fond of. We sat eating on his deck and drinking a pitcher of gin and tonic. It was so different from our usual sexual escapades that I began to open up to him. I told him about my family and how I’d begun dancing in Charlotte. Then just when I was about to tell him what I really did for a living, he’d had enough of my talking. He wanted me, and I was so accustomed to him having me that I couldn’t resist. Our bodies were drawn to each other.
When I got up to leave in the middle of the night, I looked around the room. The sheets were on the floor, as were my clothes and his. My red lingerie lay in the doorway where he’d finished undressing me. Glasses we’d been drinking from and a wad of money lay on his nightstand. It was everything that represented us. After I was showered and dressed, I headed down the stairs. But he stopped me before I made it
out the door.
“Why do you always sneak out like you’re some whore?”
“Mason, I have to get home. I have to go to work in the morning.”
“I thought you worked here, for me. Isn’t that what you always tell me, that I’m a client?”
“I can’t believe you said that.”
“You’re the one who always says it’s business, yet you tell me you’re not a prostitute. Every time I try to get close to you, you shut down. So here, if you want money, take it,” he said, and then threw a handful of money at me that scattered all over the stairs.
“Mason, please don’t do this. You and I both know that I don’t want your money. But you don’t know me. All you know is that I’m some stripper that you’ve been fucking.”
He briskly walked toward me and pulled me into his arms. “Max, I love you, and I’ll give you whatever you want. I just don’t want to lose you. I don’t care what you do when you’re not with me. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Mason, it’s not that easy.”
“Max, did you hear me? I love you. And you already know I love fucking you. You can’t tell me you don’t love it, too. I see it in your eyes when you’re coming. No man has ever made you feel like that, and I know it.”
I spent the night with Mason, and in the morning I wound up going to work in the clothes I’d worn Sunday. I’d promised him that I’d give our relationship a try and invited him to my house for dinner. He told me that he had a housewarming gift being delivered to my home, so I told him where I kept the spare key.
I knew it was going to be a long day, because in addition to classes, I had open-house night with the parents. Kareema asked if she could stay and help me prepare, and I was actually glad to have her assistance. She was very mature for sixteen, and I enjoyed talking with her. She even got personal and asked me if I had a boyfriend. When I told her yes, she was disappointed because she said her uncle was coming to the open house, and she wanted me to meet him because he was single and she’d told him so much about me.
After school ended that afternoon, I was beat. I tried to reach Mason, but his secretary said he was at an offsite meeting. Around six o’clock I headed to the auditorium to meet with the parents. We’d laid out refreshments and put a school information packet on each chair. These nights went on forever because the parents never seemed to want to go home. I was also anxious to get home to see what Mason’s gift had been, and I was hoping he’d be there with it. But once again it was time for me to take the stage.
I walked to the podium to introduce myself and smiled at Kareema, who was sitting in back by herself. I assumed her uncle had been unable to attend. As I told the parents my goals for the semester, I felt a familiar gaze staring at me, cutting through the crowd. I searched the room, saw Kareema, and then sawhim . Mason was her uncle. When our eyes met, there was no wanting or lusting; last night and this morning was all forgotten. Mason grabbed Kareema’s hand and walked out.
I uttered a few more words and nervously returned to my seat. I had to sit through three more teachers’ speeches. When it was finished, rather than walk off the stage to greet parents, I left the auditorium in search of Mason and Kareema. I had no idea what I’d say, but I needed to explain. I went out to the parking lot, but I didn’t see his car anywhere. I returned to my room, got my purse, and repeatedly called his cell phone. But he wouldn’t answer.
In the middle of the night, I heard him banging on my door. Without asking who it was, I opened the door to his drunken rage.
“I just came to tell you that I’m reporting you to the school board.”
“Mason, come in so I can at least explain.”
He stumbled in the door, almost knocking me over. I closed the door behind him.
“So what are you, Max, the opening act for the school play?”
“Mason, I don’t deserve that.”
“You deserve whatever you get, or should I say, whatever I pay for.”
“I see. I’m good enough to fuck but not good enough to teach school.”
“You know, I can’t believe I actually thought this relationship was going somewhere.”
“And it’s not? Why, because I’m more than just your private dancer? I’m sorry—yourbitch. Isn’t that what you always call me?”
“Let me tell you something. You’re right, I thought I could help you get into something decent. You led me to believe you needed me, but the only thing you needed from me was a good fucking.”
“Mason, you’re drunk. Why don’t we talk about this when you sober up?”
He looked around the house, swaying back and forth in one spot, then looked back at me. I didn’t know if he wanted to hit me or fuck me, or maybe he wanted to do both.
“So when were you going to tell me that you were giving my niece lessons on how to take her clothes off?”
“If you weren’t so busy getting me into bed last night, you would’ve heard what I was trying to tell you. But sex is all you ever want from me.”
“You know what? Fuck you, Maxine Tate. You’re nothing but a two-dollar ho, and by tomorrow you won’t be teaching anybody shit.”
Epilogue
Lynn
I’d planned to ask Max to marry me that night because I’d made up my mind that she was as perfect as they were gonna come. She had a stable job, and we both wanted the same things—financial security, a comfortable home, and children.
But that month in Charlotte had changed Max. Initially, I’d loved that change. She’d become sexy, more desirable than she’d ever been. But then I saw that tape. I wasn’t really sure it was her, but when I rewound it, I could tell by every move she made that she was my woman, my Max.
I’d tried to forget about her, but I couldn’t. I hated imagining her being with another man. But if she had, could I blame her? She never complained, but I knew I didn’t always satisfy her. I tried. I tried to slow down and take my time with her, but she just got me too excited.
And anyway, who was I to talk? I hadn’t always been faithful to her. There had been women on the road. Women I’d slept with, who sometimes went with me on my trips. And unbeknownst to Max, I’d been with a woman the night I saw that tape.
Maybe she too needed a change, some excitement. But why couldn’t she be like other women—get a tattoo, take a trip? But not this, not selling herself for money. She’d begged me to believe that all she’d done was dance, and I had to admit she was good at it. So why wouldn’t another man want her?
That was it. I’d made up my mind. If I made it home through this storm, I was taking her back.
Mason
Max loved to fuck, and I loved to fuck Max. She was a nasty girl with an innocent Goldie Hawn face that made me weak. Every time I saw her dance, I could see in each man’s face that he wanted her. She had a way of making a man dig deep into his pockets just for the fantasy of having her brush her sweet ass against his dick.
She hadn’t made it easy for me to get next to her. She always kept up a front. I was never sure if I was the only one that Max was fucking because it was obvious everybody wanted her. She took her job so seriously, and it was easy to see she enjoyed her profession.
In the beginning I wore a condom out of fear and good sense. It was probably the fear that fed my sex drive. I’d told myself repeatedly that I couldn’t possibly love her. She was a stripper, a whore.
Then came my niece, telling me all about her teacher and how she’d be perfect for me. And she did sound perfect. I wanted to meet her because I needed somebody to pull me out of Max’s grip. I needed someone to pull me back into the world where I belonged. But now for all intents and purposes Max was in that world. Hell, any man would want a woman like Max. Maybe she was perfect after all. A woman who could be both, a wife and a whore, every man’s dream.
But I’d said some cruel things to her. Why the hell had I gone there so drunk? Even then she looked good to me. It was only with a little bit of sense that I didn’t try to fuck her as soon as she opened t
he door. She was right, she was mine, my bitch, and I didn’t care what she’d done. I was going to go to her and beg for her forgiveness.
Max
A storm was coming. The news had been predicting it for two days. I lay in bed, supposedly sick. That’s what I’d told my principal. I didn’t even care. They’d already planned to close the schools, but what did it matter? I probably wouldn’t have a job soon anyway.
I had a pretty good stockpile of money, and I wasn’t about to lose that. Even if I ended up being a salesperson at the local mall, I was sure I could still hold on to this empty house. The one thing I knew I could do was dance, but that too had lost its luster. Right now I didn’t want anything but to be left alone.
I went into my gourmet kitchen and heated up the lasagna my mother had left. After picking at it, I went into my bathroom and ran a tub of water. I could hear the wind begin to kick up. It was 87 degrees, and I was grateful for the central air, especially in the bathroom. Lying in the tub wishing I could wash away the summer, I heard the rain start to fall, light at first, but within minutes it began to pour and thunder and lightning. I stepped out of the tub, went into my big bedroom, and the lights went out. Not just the lights but also the air conditioner, the clock radio, and the television. When I looked out on the street, it too was dark.
Great. I had no idea what to do with myself. I didn’t know my way around the house well enough to go looking for anything, not that anything was there. So I said to hell with it and plopped down across the bed. I’d paid fifteen hundred dollars for my heavenly bed and had nobody to share it with. I couldn’t cry again because I didn’t have any more tears.
I believe it was the rain that put me to sleep. The wind beat against the trees, knocked things around on the street, caused the walls to shake. I heard something fall over. I’d forgotten to bring my chairs in off the porch. There was nothing I could do about it now but say a prayer. I picked up the phone; there was no dial tone.
