Teach Me a Lesson

by Jasmine Haynes

  “Then why are you so angry with him, Melody? What happened?”

  “Nothing happened. We just grew up. And he turned into a total dick.”

  Charlotte decided not to correct the language. She didn’t want to stifle the girl now, not if she wanted to learn more. “What did he do that made him a total dick?”

  “He’s just like all the others.”

  “How is he like everyone else?”

  Melody shoved her hair aside and glared at Charlotte. “He called me Mudly like they all do. So I poured the sugar water over his head.” She smiled, an evil cast to it. “And I enjoyed it. Detention was worth the look on his face. I’d do it again just for that.”

  “And you dumped the contents of his backpack on the ground because . . . ?” She let the question hang.

  “He called me a bitch.”

  “So you punished him.”

  “Yes.” The word was almost a snarl.

  Kids didn’t go from being best friends to insulting each other without some inciting incident. Or maybe several. Though she couldn’t rule out peer pressure either. Teenagers started high school among a whole new set of people, older kids they wanted to impress. When other people made fun of Melody, a weak boy might feel he had to follow suit.

  “Melody, it only seems logical that something occurred before Eric called you Mudly and a bitch.”

  “Right. So it ends up being my fault.” Melody sneered at her.

  “I can’t help you if I don’t know the whole story.” Charlotte paused.

  “I never asked for your help,” the girl snapped. “I don’t need it.”

  “If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to ask Eric.”

  The girl’s lips pinched. “Fine. Go ahead and ask him. I don’t care what he says.”

  Charlotte waited, adding nothing.

  The silence worked. “I don’t want your pity,” Melody burst out. “I’m flat-chested and I’m ugly, and I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.” She leaned forward, cupped her barely there breasts. “I’ll grow a pair of these next year, and all the boys will be hot for me.”

  “It isn’t about all the boys being hot for you.”

  “Then what is it about? High school is just one big popularity contest. You’re either in or you’re out. Bet you were in, weren’t you, Miss Moore,” Melody jibed.

  “Actually I was a nerd. People made fun of me for studying too much. But I had a really good friend, and we always supported each other no matter what.”

  “Well, goodie for you. I don’t have any friends.”

  “What about the kids you knew in middle school?”

  “There was just—” She stopped.

  “There was just . . . Eric? He was the only friend that mattered?” Charlotte asked softly.

  Suddenly Melody’s face crumpled. Two fat tears welled up, fell over the brim, and rolled down her blemished cheeks. She wiped one track away with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

  “It’s okay, Melody. You can tell me.”

  More tears fell. She scrubbed them away. “I hate high school,” she whispered.

  “Most of us do.” Charlotte’s hadn’t been unhappy, but honestly, she’d never want to be a teenager again either.

  “Right, like you ever had big problems besides being called a nerd,” Melody muttered.

  Twenty years could certainly put it all in perspective, but Melody was too young to understand that now, and any words Charlotte said would be nothing more than trite.

  “Why are you butting in anyway?” The girl’s mistrust had resurfaced.

  “I just want to talk, Melody. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

  “Yeah. Because it’s your job.” She emphasized the last word with disgust. “Well, I don’t need to talk. And I gotta go. I’m going to be late.” She grabbed her backpack off the floor and stomped to the door, flinging it open so hard it banged into the back of the chair she’d just vacated.

  “I’d like you to come back on Thursday at the same time,” Charlotte called as the girl stepped into the hall.

  “I’ve got a dentist appointment,” she tossed the words over her shoulder.

  “Then let’s make it next Tuesday.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” Melody disappeared down the hall.

  Grilling her hadn’t gotten any answers. Empathy hadn’t encouraged her to open up either. Charlotte’s next move was risky. It could backfire and alienate Melody completely, despite the fact that the girl had given a grudging agreement. But there were always two sides to every story, and since Melody wasn’t talking, Charlotte would have to get the other side from Eric Collins.

  * * *

  AT A FEW MINUTES BEFORE TEN IN THE EVENING, A BRISK WIND blew off the San Francisco Bay. Charlotte pulled her calf-length coat tighter around her, but goose bumps pebbled her bare legs. Her high heels clicked loudly on the concrete. A couple of cars still pockmarked the lot of Lookout Point, and she knew to whom the big black sedan belonged. Off to her right, headlights flashed along the San Mateo Bridge and on the other side of the bay, inky black at this time of night, the lights of Hayward and San Leandro twinkled. Overhead a jet roared its approach to the airport. Despite the noise, the county park with its paved walk was a haven for runners and dog walkers during daylight hours, but after dark, it was practically deserted. Which was exactly why Lance had chosen the location, she was sure.

  His email had arrived in her in-box at two thirty. He’d told her when to meet him, where, and what to wear. After that, she couldn’t concentrate on a single thing. Thank goodness she’d already had Mrs. Rivers send Eric Collins a note to come to Charlotte’s office on Thursday morning. She’d wanted to meet with him today, but his class schedule was full.

  She focused on the outline of a tall man standing at the rail. He was well outside the pool of light from lampposts on either side, and behind him, the waves of the bay crashed on the rocks.

  She didn’t pick up her pace. In fact, she slowed slightly, allowing a little more sway to her hips. As she closed in on him, she saw that he stood with arms folded over his chest and feet crossed at the ankles as he leaned nonchalantly against the railing.

  “Miss Moore, I see you found a most appropriate coat. You follow instructions well.”

  It was long, flowing, and warm, exactly what she needed out here along the bay. “I thought you were going to make me come to your house, only to let me go at midnight.” Like Cinderella.

  “Perhaps next time,” he said.

  “Only if I’m bad.”

  He chuckled. “You can’t help yourself.” He held out a hand. “Come here.”

  She stopped when she was close enough for the wind to swirl aftershave and his musky male scent around her.

  “Open the coat,” he ordered.

  They were alone. Whoever owned the other car in the lot was as invisible to her as she and Lance would be to them, lost in the darkness between the light posts.

  She parted the lapels, the cool night air a shock to her flesh.

  “Perfect,” he murmured, his gaze on her nipples, his fingers only a touch away. “All that pretty, naked skin.”

  Those had been his instructions. The high heels, the coat, nothing else, not a stitch. Hands at her waist, he reeled her in until their bodies were separated by mere inches.

  “I thought about this all afternoon.” His breath was sweet with mint.

  So had she. Wondering what he’d planned. She’d thought he would be waiting in his car for her. She imagined him laying her down on the back seat. Or pulling her onto his lap.

  The pads of his fingers were slightly rough against her skin, and hot. Or maybe she was just cold.

  “Now what, Principal Hutton? I’m not sure how this is going to be punishment.”

  He laughed softly again. “Everything doesn’t have to be punishment. Sometimes it’s just about obeying my whims.”

  “And what is your whim?”

  “Hold your coat against my arms so the wind doesn’t get insi
de.”

  She cocooned herself with him inside the jacket.

  Leaning in, he whispered against her hair. “Spread your legs for me.”

  Right here? “But someone could come by. There was another car in the lot.”

  “All they’ll see is a man and woman embracing.”

  She’d never had public sex, but its allure made her wet even as the risk pushed her heart to a faster beat. “You are a very bad man, Principal Hutton.”

  “And you’re a very bad girl.” He leaned back to reveal the spark in his dark eyes.

  Then his hand was between her legs. Charlotte groaned, closed her eyes, shivered with the exquisite roughness of his fingers against her clitoris. He circled the nub, seduced her, drew forth another flood of moisture.

  “You are so damn wet.” He slid a digit inside her, found her G-spot, rubbed it gently, the slow stroke driving her almost to the brink. “This was what you wanted me to do this morning in my office, wasn’t it, Miss Moore.” There was no question in that statement.

  “God, yes.” She gasped as he added his thumb to the rhythm, doubling the sensation, taking her on the inside, the outside. She was so wet he glided easily over her flesh.

  “Did you want me to make you come this morning, Miss Moore?”

  “Yes, yes.” She panted.

  “Right there in my office?”

  “You know I did.” She sucked in a breath, let it out with a low moan, almost a growl.

  “Such a risk-taker.”

  “Just like you, doing this to me out here.” She squeezed her eyes tight as heat began to build deep inside her, spreading out, to her limbs, her skin. She was no longer cold. She burned for him.

  “Are you afraid someone will see?”

  In this moment, she didn’t care. If they ended up in jail, so what? She gasped, shuddered, quivered, and rocked with him, adding her own motion to the heady mix.

  “How sexy it would be to take you in front of an audience, Miss Moore. Or to watch you with another man.”

  Her legs trembled, her knees felt weak. She clutched the coat tightly around his arms. His words reminded her of something, someone. What? God, it didn’t matter now.

  “Don’t scream, Miss Moore. Someone’s coming. Don’t make a sound.”

  She couldn’t help herself. She opened her mouth, a cry welling up in her throat even as the climax began with a rumble, then a roar. Or maybe that was another jet overhead. His mouth covered hers, swallowed the sounds, swallowed her orgasm, possessed her, made her his slave.

  * * *

  SHE WAS AMAZING, GAME FOR ANYTHING, AND SHE TURNED HIM inside out when she opened her eyes to gaze up at him with sultry satisfaction.

  “Such a dirty man. I’m shocked, Principal Hutton. Right out here in the open.” She rubbed against his hard cock.

  “You didn’t want to spend the night. This assured the impossibility of that.”

  “Hold my coat in place.” Heh, now she was issuing the orders.

  When he tugged the collar closed, she drew her hands in and wriggled out of the arms.

  “What are you doing, Miss Moore?”

  She unzipped his slacks. “You don’t think I’m going to let you have all the fun, do you?” She released him from the confines of his briefs.

  “Jesus.” He sucked in a breath. “Your hand is cold.”

  “Your cock is hot.” She squeezed. “And extremely hard.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “You’ve been thinking about me all day, Principal Hutton?”

  He laughed hoarsely. “Fuck yes.”

  She stroked expertly. No woman had ever tempted him the way she did. How could he have waited three long years to take advantage of her?

  She cupped his balls, and his world seemed to shrink down to just the feel of her hand on him, her seductive scent mesmerizing him, the ache building in his gut. A shadow ran by, man and dog, disappearing into the night, and Lance didn’t care if they were seen.

  “So who’s the master here, Principal Hutton?” She swirled a drop of pre-come around the tip of his cock, used it to lubricate her strokes.

  “You are, and you fucking know it.” A deep groan rose from his belly, and his hands fisted tightly in the lapels of her coat. He’d never had anything like this, never touched a woman like her. It was more than a simple hand job. It was that she made a hand job the most important thing in the world, like a teenage boy touched by a girl for the first time, all new, all exciting, rushing him to the edge in a matter of seconds.

  “Would you fuck me right here if I told you to?” she whispered.

  “Christ. Yes. Please.”

  A great roar started in his head, made his body tremble. He put his head back, stared at the plane far above them, feeling the vibrations through his entire body.

  “You’d do anything I say,” she whispered. He shouldn’t have been able to hear, but it was as if the words were inside his head.

  He rocked to the rhythm of her hand. “Yes. Anything.”

  She teased and stroked, twisted and caressed. Sensation shot down to his balls, exploded out to his extremities, and he shouted. If not for the thunder of the plane, the world would have heard his climax.

  He jetted, jerked, pulsed, throbbed, on and on, as if he were that same teenage boy, now totally out of control. Then finally he could breathe again, but all he could manage was a hoarse “Fuck.”

  She leaned back slightly. “Look at that, you dirty man. You made a mess all over me.”

  In the darkness of her voluminous coat, he couldn’t see it, but the scent of come rose to his nostrils. Her hand moved, the back of it brushing his still semi-erect cock.

  “I’ll just have to rub it in,” she said. “It’s all slippery.” Her hand circled and swirled around, rising to her breasts, rubbing his come there as well. Then she raised her fingers to her mouth and licked them, her gaze on his, her eyes beguiling him. “Yum,” she mouthed, smiled, then went back to rubbing and stroking herself.

  The act was sexy as hell, intimate in an elemental way. She wasn’t afraid of his come, loved it, wanted it, massaged it into her skin. Even the taste didn’t repel her. It was more than a woman swallowing a man’s come during a blow job. His first wife had kept a box of mints on the side table. But Charlotte loved it. He’d never had a sexual partner like her, so sensual, so passionate, so in love with everything about the sex act, the tastes, the scents, the sensations. He was enthralled with her sensuality.

  The words were on the tip of his tongue. Come home with me. Stay with me. But while she loved the act, she didn’t want the intimacy. She wouldn’t spend the night. Hell, she probably wouldn’t even have dinner with him.

  There was only one way to shut himself up. He cupped her cheek with one hand, holding the coat in place with the other, and lowered his lips to hers, took her mouth, tasted himself. It wasn’t repellent. It was hot as Hades. She was his devil, tempting him.

  Then she was tucking him back into his trousers, zipping up, patting him down. “I’m really going to need my beauty sleep tonight, Principal Hutton.”

  Come home with me.

  “Well, at least you’ve had your beauty lotion,” he said instead.

  She laughed. Christ, even her laugh made his cock jerk with renewed desire. “I’ve heard it said that come is very good for the skin.”

  “And here I thought you simply wanted my scent on you when you woke up in the middle of the night.”

  She cocked her head slightly, batted her lashes, but didn’t answer as she wriggled her arms back into her sleeves. Holding the coat tightly closed, she stepped back, putting cold air and space between them. “I think you’re the one who’s going to wake up in the middle of the night to taste me on your fingers.”

  He would. No doubt about it. He would think about her all tomorrow, too, then into the night again. He was on her skin, but she was definitely under his.

  10

  CHARLOTTE SLEPT NAKED. SHE HADN’T SHOWERED WHEN SHE arrived home after leaving Lance. S
he couldn’t bear to wash him off. His come wasn’t sticky; it was delicious. Once in bed, she pushed the covers aside so the scent of him filled the room, filled her head.

  She was in control. Completely. Sure, at the moment of climax, she’d thought of herself as his slave, but then she’d switched everything around on him, turned him into her slave, forced him to admit he’d do anything for her.

  Putting her hand between her legs, she caressed herself as his medley of aromas surrounded her.

  This wasn’t obsession, it was perfection. She ran a flourishing therapy practice, she helped kids as a guidance counselor, and now this. They were consenting adults, they didn’t have sex at work—she didn’t count that first time after detention, since she’d never even raised her skirt—and truly, no justification necessary, it would work wonders with her practice. In the heat of the moment, he’d suggested having an audience and even watching her with other men. A rush of moisture flooded her fingers, and she dug her heels into the mattress, arching into her touch.

  On show for him. The thought made her hot and wet. It proved how powerful fantasy could be. It worked for her. It could work for Jeanine and her husband. Charlotte felt that truth deep in her core as her pussy contracted, her orgasm building. She imagined people watching as the principal filled her, thrusting deep. Doggy style. God. She tossed her head on the pillow, heat rushing through her body. Then she imagined Principal Hutton standing over the bed, pointing, directing. Fuck her hard, she heard him whisper. Make her come. Charlotte hit her climax, crying out, rolling and clamping her thighs tight around her hand, riding the wave of bliss.

  When it was over, she spread out bonelessly on the bed. God. So good. It was one thing to tell Jeanine to experiment with fantasy. It was quite another to experience the wonders of fantasizing. Just add a little kink, not much, a little risky business, a shot of sexy role playing, and it worked miracles.

  * * *

  “WE NEED TO CONSIDER INSTITUTING SCHOOL UNIFORMS.”

  Lance barely suppressed an eye roll. There were a lot of things he’d rather be doing, the most delightful being a review of last night’s spectacular adventure with Charlotte. Unfortunately, he had a lunch meeting.