Maybe it wasn’t lust maybe I did have genuine caring feelings for him. I chewed on my bottom lip at the thought of becoming Mrs. Sanders one day. It set my belly to quivering and I cleared my throat as if I’d been speaking for hours.
“Okay, well I guess you can call me when you finally get home.” Camilla gave me a hug then bounced out of the door carefree.
I passed Mr. Lomax on the way to see Mr. Sanders; he smiled and nodded at me. “Hello Miss Jamison,” he spoke. When he talked to Camilla his tone was so different. I couldn’t place it exactly but he sounded nothing like the principal that greeted me.
“Hello Mr. Lomax, sir,” I smiled politely.
I pushed the classroom door open with my hip and stuck my head in. There he was: Mr. Sanders, gathering his things for the evening. His head was down, earbuds in, not once looking up or noticing my presence.
Sweet Lord he was a fine man. His shoulders were so broad and he filled out his pale blue shirt like a Greek God. I swallowed the knot in my throat and walked into the class with false confidence.
The Lord is my shepherd… I thought to myself. I know it’s wrong to call on the lord for strength when you’re about to shamelessly ogle your teacher but…
“Miss Jamison, hello…” His smile lit me up inside like a million fireflies. It was definitely the dimples.
“Um…hi, Mr. Sanders…” I stammered. Ugh, for one freakin’ second I wish I had whatever it is that Camilla had when she talked to people! He chuckled at me and continued placing things in his bag.
More things than he usually carries for a day of subbing. My brows furrowed together as I watched him. One…two…three…four books he put away since I’d been standing there. I ran my sweaty palms down the length of my uniform skirt nervously.
“You sure have a lot of books today,” I noted.
“I do. You’re such a perceptive girl,” he winked and I about melted into a Laurel puddle on the floor. I felt my most private area throb with sinful desperation. I averted my eyes to my feet pressing my thighs together shamefully. Hopefully I wasn’t blushing too hard.
“Can I tell you a secret, Miss Jamison?” I lifted my head and looked him in his honey hued eyes. I wish the school didn’t have the stupid rule where all faculty has to refer to the students by last name. I needed to hear how he sounded saying Laurel.
I nodded my head and my ears strained to hear every word that came out of his beautiful mouth. I wondered what kind of kisser he was. How his arms would feel wrapped around me in a hug? How big his…
“I got a permanent position here at Trinity,” he finally closed his bag up and slung it across his body. I couldn’t believe my ears. Maybe the feelings I had for him were a mix of lust and love.
Maybe that’s why Jesus answered my prayers.
I tried to hide my excitement at his news but I couldn’t help the smile that stretches from one side of my face to the other. “Is there something I can help you with, Miss Jamison?”
“Oh, um…I uh …” Nothing of any substance comes out of my mouth. Only stupid gibberish that made Mr. Sanders flash me a kid-friendly smile. He may as well have patted me on the top of my head.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Jamison. You have a blessed day,” and with that he was out of the door.
Another missed opportunity! Not that anything could have ever happened between us but we could have at least talked for a while. I liked hearing his deep, smooth voice, and the way he knew the bible was unlike even Pastor Scott, Camilla’s dad. I watched him walk away; his stride was so confident and strong.
I wanted to reach out and touch his shoulders. They were probably so strong. My stomach clenched and a bit of sadness washed over me as we went in opposite directions.
Chapter Three
Camilla
“The power of Jesus will make you surrender. It will make you confess any and all sins, and it will make you feel unworthy! But oh…my Lord, when he makes you whole again!”
The congregation erupted with shouts of praise. It was all I could do to keep myself from rolling my eyes right out of my damn head. My dad’s sermons were so boring but everyone ate them up like he was preaching the words straight from Jesus.
My eyes scanned the crowd and I saw all the usual suspects falling out and screeching for him to continue. I groaned under my breath and my mother tightened her grip on my hand. I smelled her cinnamon flavored breath when she leaned in threatening me with confinement to my room if I didn’t straighten up.
I didn’t react. I never did.
I couldn’t stand her ass. Mrs. Perfect fucking First Lady Scott. She was so full of shit, her holier than thou act grated on my nerves ever since I could remember. I used to press her out and try to find out who she was before she became First Lady. She always acted like she was born holy and waited under lock and key until my dad found her and made her an honest woman.
I knew she had a past though. I knew because of the pure carnal lust that coursed through me. No way in fucking hell that I got it from my dad; if anybody is holy it’s that man. I may not have been close to the man but I’ve seen all aspects of his past and he was groomed to be the preacher he is today.
A camera man panned to get a shot of my mother, little sister Christina and I and we cheesed it up for the fucking camera. As soon as he moved on my smile dripped away. Fuck those cameras. I hated them all.
My dad, Emmanuel Joseph Scott was standing at his ornate podium carved out of cherry wood with crosses and doves etched into the surface. It was enough to make me vomit. I once considered holding Alka-Seltzer in my mouth and letting the foam rush out of my lips when holy water touched my skin. The thought alone made my lips curl into a smile. That would be one hell of a show for daddy’s millions of followers.
Stupid sheep.
Why would anyone let one man dictate his or her personal relationship with Jesus? Yet every week he preached to millions worldwide. The church community revered him as the most powerful televangelist in Florida…maybe even the country. It annoyed me to no end. It meant that my own father was never there for me, neither was my mother.
I’ve always felt alienated from all that religious shit though. I sat with my family on stage every Sunday because I was forced to. Unlike my little sister Christina, she ate all that shit up with a fucking spoon.
Little brat.
She was the devout one and yet she got treated the worst out of us two. I never got in as much trouble as she did and I did ten times more fucked up shit. All Chris ever did was not clean up her room, steal sweets from the pantry, and miss a couple assignments. Me? I snuck out, I cursed, I smoked, I did whatever I wanted and I barely got scolded from my parents. If they knew I was fucking Mr. Lomax they would have a heart attack. Well…at least they’d meet Jesus.
I always assumed I got special treatment because I was their precious light skin, green-eyed child. While Chris was chocolate as a Hershey bar with coffee eyes like dad and gorgeous kinky hair. I thought my little sister, while annoying, was beautiful as hell. My parents however, always pushed me to the front of the cameras.
Me of all people.
We were riding back to our house in the Escalade and my mother was lecturing me about my lack of attention in service. “Camilla, you could have at least pretended you wanted to be at service,” my mother sighed as she fussed over my hair. I slapped her hands away, my lips turned down.
“Watch it, Cami,” Dad grumbled at me. “At least she smiled for the cameras this time Dana.” Mom looked at me and glared. I swear she would’ve called me a bitch if it didn’t threaten to break apart her pristine image.
“I smiled too Daddy,” Chris beamed. Her chocolate skin glowed in the sunlight. She looked so much like our dad that he could have spit her out himself. He was a tall man that towered over most, with deep mocha colored skin and matching mocha eyes. His hair was neat and close cut, and he was always groomed to a tee. Exactly like Chris, never a hair out of place on either of them.
“
I know you did, baby.” His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror and I tossed him an obviously fake smile. He shook his head and continued home.
I couldn’t wait to shed the stupid church clothes I had on when I got in the house. They were so restricting. In a furious motion, I stripped off my blazer, blouse, and tights.
I slipped into a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. Much better. I kicked my church clothes into the closet and sparked a cigarette. Finally I could settle down and be alone.
I scrolled down my Facebook timeline laughing at memes and commenting on Laurel’s statuses when Christina bounced in my room. Although she was only two years younger than me, it felt like she was a damn toddler.
“What Chris?”
“Me and mommy are going shopping, you wanna come?”
“Not really,” I muttered. It would be awful if we all went out. All my mother would do is talk to everyone and pose for pictures. Then she’d want me to get in on the pictures too while Chris stood off to the side looking lost.
“Well I think you should come.” My mother’s voice cut through the room like a knife.
“I don’t want to,” I whined.
“Oh, Camilla…your father wanted to reward you for being so well-behaved at the taped service this morning. He said you could use his card…” Her voice trailed off and I stopped listening after hearing I could have Daddy’s card.
“Let’s go,” I smiled sweetly.
“You need to put on a bra, Camilla. And something more tasteful than jeans and a t-shirt please.” She smiled but venom dripped from her words.
“What’s wrong mommy? You miss how perky your tits used to be before you popped out me and Chris?” Her eyes widened, and then narrowed to slits.
“Watch your mouth young lady. Honor thy mother,” she snapped before storming out. Christina looked at me with horror, like I’d slapped the woman or something. I pushed past her and took my comfy tee off and traded it for a dress and flats.
Still no bra though. I knew that if I didn’t have on a bra, I wouldn’t have to pose in any pictures.
That evening, after the sun set and I put away all my new trinkets, we had family worship. Which meant Daddy read from the bible and we listened. I glanced over at my mother who somehow had conjured tears to the rims of her eyes. Nothing my dad was saying was that fucking serious though, so I knew she was bullshitting.
She stroked my hair and I moved my head away from her hand. It was a subtle move but it stung her nonetheless. Later she confronted me, “What is your problem Camilla? I can’t touch my own daughter all of a sudden?” She let her lips drop into a frown.
“I don’t wanna be touched,” I snapped.
“I bet all those boys you’re always entertaining could touch you though…but your own mother annoys you?”
“What boys?” I grumbled. I never mentioned boys to my parents, besides I only fucked men. Boys my age didn’t interest me at all.
“You think I’m blind? I know a girl as pretty as you has to have boys drooling at school.”
I lifted an eyebrow at her and said, “Are you speaking from experience?” Another attempt to unearth some of her past.
“No. I told you I didn’t have boyfriends until your father came along.”
Lie. Such a fucking lie.
I’d seen three pictures of my mother from her teenage years. In each photo she was a bronzed goddess with a perfect body and long, Rapunzel like hair. She didn’t have green eyes like me, but she didn’t need them to charm men with everything else she had going on.
“Mom, why do you keep everything such a damn secret? Tell me about how you were growing up. I wanna know where I get my personality from.” I leaned forward and she eyed me with a look I’d never seen, a look of longing. Like looking at me reminded her of her teenage years. Though I didn’t look much like her, I did have her shapely body and long hair.
“You’re your own person Camilla Nicole Scott, that’s for sure. You didn’t get your ways from your father or me. You’re just…you.” With that she walked away from me, leaving me frustrated yet again.
Why wouldn’t she give me a glimpse of her true self so I could understand my true self? I could feel the pressure of an angry mood swing rising in my head. Instead of wanting to kick something or punch or even scream…I wanted to fuck.
I called up Brian but he shut me all the way down. “No. Not now, Camilla. We shouldn’t have earlier. What we did was wrong. You know it. I need time to think.”
The line went dead and more anger coursed through my veins. It pumped through me until I felt like someone was sitting on my chest. A low growl rumbled through me, but at the same time it wasn’t me. I fell to the floor, my back against my closet door. This is always how my episodes start off with anger and pressure.
Colors started to blur together and swirl. I was having an episode and it felt like I was dying. My eyes shut tight and I knew if I didn’t cum or feel some sort of pain, I would pass the fuck out. I slipped my hand inside my panties and rubbed my stiff clit in small circles. My chest heaved up and down and I thought of the countless men I’d slept with.
Faces rushed around in my mind until I pushed myself over the edge. My pussy clenched and sent shutters through my body. I could finally breathe. I opened my eyes and colors no longer swam like an ocean before me.
I was back to normal.
At 6 in the morning, Trinity Prep is all dark except for the lights at the entrance. I knew that because nearly every morning Mr. Lomax and I met at school before the doors opened. Before even the custodial staff came in at 7:30. So I fully expected to see his silver Benz in the parking lot but it wasn’t there.
I drove around to the front lot for visitors and saw a white Avalon but nothing else. I pulled up beside the Avalon and glanced inside. I saw someone looking at a phone, but the tints were too heavy for me to see who it was. I got out and walked up to the driver’s side.
Tap…tap…tap.
The dark window rolled down to reveal Mr. Sanders’ handsome face. I was kinda annoyed though. Actually, I was really annoyed. I was hoping that Brian had a rental car or something, but turns out the fucker was avoiding me. I must’ve looked upset because Mr. Sanders asked me if I was okay.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
He raised a thick eyebrow and opened the passenger door for me to get in. I wasn’t in the mood for any fucking pep talks though. After an eye roll, I slid in beside him.
“Miss Scott why are you at the school this early? Is everything okay? You seem to be looking for someone.”
“I was looking for someone but they’re not here,” I pouted angrily and stared out the window. The familiar rise of anger and rejection started to creep across my skin.
Oh no…not now.
“Is there anything you need to talk about?” Mr. Sanders’ voice pulled me back to focus. I shook my head and started looking around his car to keep from having a full fledge episode. Because with me there’s only one way to keep me from passing out and that’s to fuck someone.
I couldn’t fuck Mr. Sanders. It wasn’t because he was a teacher, or even because he worked in the same school as Brian. It was because Laurel liked him and Laurel is so damn sweet and innocent I’d never forgive myself.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“I’m starting here full-time today and I’m supposed to meet Mr. Lomax but I don’t see him…” He glanced around quickly, and so did I.
No sign of the pussy.
My heart thumped against my chest at the thought of him avoiding me on purpose. Mr. Sanders was talking but I couldn’t hear him over the rushing of my boiling blood.
“Miss Scott are you okay?” Concern peppered his face as he looked at me.
“Call me Camilla. What’s your real name?” I almost purred and realized that the dark twisted side of me was taking over and I didn’t know if I could stop it. Painful pressure mounted in my head and my pussy was throbbing. Between Brian brushing me off last night and not showing his fa
ce the next morning I was livid. Mr. Sanders chuckled nervously in response like he could sense the shift in the very air.
“Student/faculty decency, Miss Scott. Remember?”
“Oh please…that’s such bullshit,” I laughed coolly. I fully expected to see him blush. To see his soft brown skin turn red but it didn’t. It intrigued the shit out of me and made me raise my eyebrow inquisitively.
“It is bullshit. My name is Xavier,” he sighed. A smirk quirked up on my lips and I felt a shiver rip through my body. My heart was pumping faster now. I wet my lips with my tongue and crossed my long legs to quiet my screaming vagina.
“Xavier? I like that. It’s sexy.” He showed me those goddamn dimples and I nearly lost it. I wanted to feel his dick.
I wanted to suck his dick.
Colors started to swirl.
“You don’t have any crosses in your car?” I babbled, trying to hold on to some sliver of sanity. He flashed me a devious look that sent me over the edge with lust.
“Nah,” his voice turned deeper and more relaxed. “I’m…” he paused then looked at me. “Can I trust you Camilla?” I nodded, anxious to hear his secret. He smiled and said, “I’m not Baptist.” My eyebrows flew up on my forehead in shock.
He chuckled at it. Suddenly I realized he didn’t wear a cross necklace or lapel pin like every other faculty member either. The realization momentarily halted my episode.
“Are you Catholic?” I inquired.
“I’m an Atheist.” He blurted. My mouth went dry and I wanted to climb in his lap and ride his dick until he couldn’t cum anymore. I don’t know why it excited me so much that he was an Atheist. Maybe because he also thought religion was bullshit just like me. I’d never considered myself an Atheist though.
“Why are you teaching here?”
“Money.”
“Fair enough,” I mused, “but you know the Bible so well.”
“I know. It’s why I’m an Atheist. I know the Bible inside and out, probably better than your dad. That’s why I’m comfortable believing it’s garbage.”
I couldn’t contain myself anymore. A mix of lust and anger made me chew the inside of my cheek until the familiar metallic taste splashed on my tongue. I locked his car doors and climbed over the console so I was straddling him. The shocked look on his face pleased me to no end.
Twisted Intentions Page 2
