Veiled Innocence

by Ella Frank

  Lying between the white sheets of my bed, I enjoyed the coolness of them as I parted my bare thighs and slipped my fingers down between to touch.

  Nighttime was my time, a time where I could imagine whatever I wanted, and that night, I imagined my teacher. The man who had dismissed me in the blink of an eye. The man who was making my body weep as I lay in my bed. Why I found his rejection so appealing, I was unable to pinpoint, but it was. Almost…challenging.

  Biting my top lip, I slid two fingers along the edge of my panties. I wiggled them in under the pink cotton and flexed my toned thighs. As I parted my legs farther and arched my back, I pushed my body into the weight of the sheet, enjoying the feel of it over me—imagining it was him. I teased myself, flirting my fingers over my bare mound. My mouth parted, his name on my lips as my fingertips grazed my clit and then dipped below to slide inside.

  I’d been doing this from an early age, learning my body and exactly the way I needed to be touched. Brandon never got it right. He was always in a rush, and it was over before it began. Didn’t that apply to most boys?

  But Mr. McKendrick…

  I knew he’d be different.

  He’d touch me the way I desired, and he’d take me the way I craved.

  Not like a boy—but like a man.

  Chapter Two

  Present…

  Tick, tick, tock.

  “Would you say that you consciously try to push people’s boundaries, Addison?”

  Tick, tick—what?

  Seated again in the tiny, white office, I glance around at the bare walls, then back to the desk placed in here for my “stay” and I think—what?

  My face must convey my thoughts because he starts over.

  “Or do you think it’s more”—he pauses, I’m sure for dramatic effect—“subconscious?”

  He knows I’m aware that I don’t have to answer, so what does he get from me? Silence. Complete and utter silence.

  “Okay, let’s go back to Mr. McKendrick.”

  Let’s not, I think as I study my nails.

  “You aren’t in trouble.”

  Aren’t I? Being locked away sure doesn’t help his case in convincing me.

  “We just need more information.”

  Don’t we all.

  Tick, tick, tock.

  “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about how things began?”

  I feel my anger start to rise. This man knows me better than anyone but about this, he knows nothing.

  They’re all grasping. Grasping for a reason to make this his fault.

  To somehow make him the devil and me the angel in this salacious little tale of sin.

  They want to know who approached whom.

  None of your fucking business, that’s who.

  If he thinks this is going to be easy like it use to be, he best reevaluate.

  I only have me to think of now. Me in this place, with nothing but time. Time to remember or, as they are all hoping, time to forget.

  Tick, tick, tock—the mouse ran up the clock.

  Is my hour up yet? It has to be close.

  I glance at the only thing on the wall, a wooden clock, and then turn back to Doc and lick my lips.

  Do I like to push boundaries? Yes.

  I raise my thumb and bite my nail, noticing his eyes drop to it before he shakes his head.

  Do I do it consciously? Yes. Yes, I do.

  * * *

  Past…

  Again, she was late. This was the kind of conduct I could not tolerate. Blatant disrespect for my authority, that’s what this was. I shut my classroom door with a firm hand and locked it.

  She was going to be that student. The one I battled all fucking year.

  Clenching my teeth, I faced my other students. There was a clear void where she’d sat yesterday and the more I fixated on the empty space, the more annoyed I became.

  Everyone sat patiently, waiting to see what would happen when Addison Lancaster decided to grace us with her presence, but she remained a no-show. Knowing I couldn’t let a student dictate the way I ran things, I stepped to the front of the room and rested back against the desk.

  “Okay, guys. Please open your textbooks to page thirty-seven. As you know, this term we’ll be learning all about the reign of King Henry the Eighth. So let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”

  Straightening from the desk, I slid my hands into my pockets as the kids flipped their books open.

  “Did this dude really have six wives?”

  I looked down at my roster to check the name of the boy talking. Brandon Williams.

  “Yes, he really did, Brandon” I confirmed.

  He slouched back in his chair and dropped his arm on the desk. “The dude had game.”

  “He was a king, you idiot,” his friend ribbed. “He was rich and powerful. Women love that shit. Why do you think Addy’s with you, your brain?”

  “Ahh, Sam? Language, please.”

  “Sorry, sir,” he mumbled, his cheeks turning a ruddy color as if embarrassed, but I’d already moved on and was thinking about…Addy? No, that didn’t fit her at all. Not the girl who’d given me that look…that inappropriate look from the day before.

  Addy was a little girl’s name. It didn’t fit, but Addison? Addison was a name that belonged to those deceptive eyes.

  “It’s okay, just don’t do it again. So let’s read chapter one, then we’ll—”

  That was when the banging on my classroom door began. I turned toward it and saw her through the narrow pane of glass. The room fell into complete silence as her fellow classmates waited to see what I would do. They had all sat through the same speech she’d been given, so now was the time I’d have to assert my authority over the situation. Something I really didn’t want to do on the second day of the school year.

  I walked over to the door and saw her looking directly at me. I should have sent her to the principal’s office immediately. I should have left her standing out in the hall. There were a lot of things I should have done, but instead, I unlocked and opened the door.

  “Sorry I’m late. I got…held up. But it was for a good reason,” she tried explaining, as she stepped into the room.

  Not believing her for a second, I gestured to the hall. “Outside. Now, Miss Lancaster.”

  I watched her closely as her expression changed, and she gave a cocky grin to the other kids. “But I really did get held up.”

  I ground my teeth in frustration. She was impertinent, she was brazen, and right now, she was pushing every single one of my buttons. Lowering my voice, I once again gestured to the hall.

  “Outside. Now.”

  With an exaggerated sigh, she stepped out into the empty hall and I followed close behind. As the door clicked shut, I noticed the way she dropped the cutesy schoolgirl act and morphed into a much more threatening creature.

  I wondered at that moment what I’d done to deserve this. Surely, this was some kind of fucked-up karma because the girl in front of me had the face of a woman that would bring men to their knees.

  Men just like me.

  * * *

  “I really was held—”

  “Stop talking.”

  The smile that crept onto my lips was sly as Mr. McKendrick cut me off.

  I wondered for a brief moment what he thought of the skintight jeans that clung to my hips or the black lace tank that had ridden up over my stomach. I also wore a black vinyl jacket with zippers all over it because my mother had made me.

  All the better to keep my secrets covered.

  “Listen to me very carefully, Addison, because I only plan to say this once.”

  He didn’t have to worry. I was listening. So much so that I was lip reading as I memorized his mouth. The same mouth that had become a new fascination of mine.

  “I will not put up with this kind of behavior from you or anyone else in my class. Do you understand?”

  “You don’t look like a teacher.”

  “Excuse me?”

&
nbsp; He seemed bewildered, and I liked that, so I continued. “A teacher. You don’t look or dress like one.”

  As if I hadn’t spoken at all, he resumed his previous line of conversation.

  “I expect you to be in my classroom early or on time. Not one minute after the bell and certainly not ten. It’s not only rude, it disrupts the class that’s already in session. Do I make myself clear?”

  His hair wasn’t tied back today but was pushed behind his ears so it hit his shoulders. Dressed in black jeans and a matching long-sleeved, button-down shirt, the picture he made was that of some kind of rocker sex god, not a history teacher.

  “Do you like what I’m wearing?”

  “Addison, stop trying so hard. No one is out here to see.”

  I pouted, thinking over his statement before I shrugged. I was trying hard—to get his attention. “You’re here.”

  “Get inside. If you’re late again, I’m not unlocking the door, and you can explain why you are standing out here to Principal Thomas.”

  “And what do you think he is going to do?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  He really didn’t know how this school ran yet, poor delusional man. I could clearly see just how agitated he was. It was all in his eyes. I daringly stepped closer to him.

  “You don’t know it yet,” I said, deciding to enlighten him. “But you will soon enough. I’m his star. I make this school when I step out onto the track, and he won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

  I’d never been hunted before, usually I liked the chase, but when Mr. McKendrick leaned down and his eyes narrowed, I felt the adrenaline course through me. Instinctively, I stood my ground, all but daring him to attack.

  “I don’t care who you are, young lady. If you turn up late again, I will make sure you are held accountable. Understand? Now get inside, sit down and open your book, and try to remember that you are the student.”

  Moving around him, I caught the scent of his cologne. He smelled just the way I imagined hot sex should smell, and I knew that if I stood there long enough, my panties would do nothing to contain the wetness between my thighs. I paused just before opening the door and ran my gaze down his body a final time.

  “I will, when you start to resemble a teacher. Oh, and by the way, sir. I like what you’re wearing, just in case you wanted to know.”

  * * *

  I silently followed Addison back into the classroom and noticed finger marks on her shoulder as her bag fell. She quickly shrugged the jacket back into place and went to take her seat. As she aimed her eyes my way, I knew I was in big fucking trouble. The expression in them was definitely not that of a student facing her teacher.

  Brandon stretched across the aisle to whisper something in her ear, and as I studied them together, her focus never wavered from me. His lips brushed so close to her hair that I caught a strand of it move with his breath, and I couldn’t seem to turn away.

  Imagining instead, the unthinkable—me in Brandon’s place.

  I tried to convince myself that my interest in her was nothing more than annoyance, but after the conversation in the hall, I had to reevaluate my own judgment.

  Why was I allowing her to get under my skin? And what did she mean about me not dressing like a teacher? Maybe I needed to change something, present a different front?

  Or maybe, I needed to stop letting her play me because that was what she was doing…or trying to do. Play me like a fucking game.

  A very dangerous game.

  * * *

  Present…

  Memories are the only thing keeping me sane.

  It’s surprising how one specific memory is what will make you fight to come out alive. It’s what makes you dare to push your way through the darkness, searching for any tiny shard of light.

  My darkness comes when you would expect it to…at night.

  It’s much more than the night closing in. It’s the pill I’m given, the way my light is switched off for me and the way I’m told when to get some rest. They might as well say lights out like they do in prison because that’s what this place is like.

  Rest is something that eludes me because even in my dreams, peace is nowhere to be found. It’s as elusive as it has always been, except for when…no. It’s best not to even think it.

  Sitting up in bed, I wrap my arms around my knees and tap out a calming beat—one, two, three—as a tiny slither of light slips through the crack of my door. It’s illuminating a black-and-white picture taped to the wall.

  Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss.

  I reach out and trace my finger along the woman lying back in Cupid’s embrace, and I can hear and see him just as clearly as if he’s in the room with me…

  “Sometimes curiosity should stay just that,” he advised as he pushed his chair away from the desk.

  “Should it?”

  Standing slowly, he made his way behind me, and my entire body shivered with anticipation.

  “Yes. There’s a reason Psyche was told not to open the flask.”

  This was wrong. He’d told me that so many times. But I wanted him, and I was going nowhere.

  “And that reason was?”

  “Because opening it would only bring about the most severe of consequences.”

  …He’d been right all along.

  I lie down and stare into the darkness, searching for answers, but I have none. Our choices tore us apart, and my decision led me here.

  My own choices and my own decisions, I knew that.

  Why didn’t anyone else?

  Chapter Three

  Past…

  When does an obsession become unhealthy?

  I didn’t mean to follow him home that first time, but before I knew it, I was doing it every day and had been for the last few weeks.

  It was a ritual now to sit in my car at school and wait as the second hand would tick, tick, tock its way around to 3:00 p.m.—when he would appear.

  Today, he jogged across the field holding his satchel in one hand and his jacket over his head. I’d become addicted to watching him—especially unobserved. I slumped down in my seat, careful not to be spotted, as he exited the track and walked over to his truck.

  How many days will I allow myself to do this?

  I knew this behavior of mine was insane, but when it came to him, rules didn’t seem to apply. Ever since that first day of school, I hadn’t been able to think of anything but getting close to him, and every class I sat through only intensified my determination.

  I checked to see if he was backing out of the lot, but instead of his truck reversing as usual, I saw him briskly making his way toward me.

  No…there was no way he could know I was there. It was raining, and raining hard. My breathing accelerated as his shadow fell across the driver’s side, and when his knuckles rapped on the window, I jumped in my seat.

  Caught, I’m caught.

  I took a deep breath as he motioned for me to lower the rain-streaked glass. Swallowing hard, I pressed the down arrow on the door and heard the slow whir of the window motor as it slid open a crack. He bent down so he was able to peer inside the car, and I could see his lips were now shiny and wet from the rain.

  “Are you having car trouble?”

  I slouched back in my seat and let out a relieved sigh before shook my head. He wasn’t there to ask why I was following him. He was being what he was—a concerned teacher.

  “No, sir.”

  I could see a frown crease his forehead, and his eyes grew suspicious. “Then why are you out here? School let out thirty minutes ago.”

  From the dry interior of my Honda, I could see the water hitting his long hair and sliding down the dark strands to pool on his shoulders. The windows were starting to fog up with every breath I took, and my view of him was disappearing.

  I twisted in my seat and placed my hand on the glass, swiping off the condensation. When I could once again see through it, I pushed up closer and confessed.

  “I was waiting.”

>   “What?” he shouted as the rain fell harder against the car roof. “I can’t hear you, Addison. Speak up.”

  I shifted until my lips were hovering in the open space as I repeated, louder this time, “I was waiting.”

  “Oh. For the rain to stop or for someone inside?”

  I was mesmerized by the way the raindrops clung to his stubble-covered jaw—that was when we slipped into uncharted territory as I admitted, “I was waiting for you.”

  * * *

  What is she talking about? I thought as the rain beat down on me and streamed inside my shirt. The water soon went unnoticed as she lowered the window farther, and her perfect face came into view.

  Seeing her sitting only inches away had me consciously taking a step back from the car—away from temptation. I knew whatever she’d meant by that statement was nothing I could acknowledge, and it was certainly nothing I was allowed to pursue.

  Pure calculation swept over her face, and I was jarred back to reality by the popping of the locks. She pushed open the driver’s side door and slammed it shut behind her.

  I needed to say something to get this back on the right track because the way she was checking me out was not helping to remind me who she was—and who I was supposed to be.

  “Get back inside the car, Addison. You’ll get soaked.”

  As she stepped closer to me, I surveyed the lot, paranoid that someone would see us. Paranoid that someone would read my mind.

  And what exactly would they see?

  They’d see me backing a student up against her car and lifting her skirt—the same miniscule scrap of fabric currently plastered to her thighs.

  For the past few weeks, Addison had been watching me. I knew it, I felt it, and every time I’d caught her, she’d brazenly held my stare in a way that made my cock hard and my guilt compound.

  “I’m already soaked,” she explained, and I got the feeling she was not referring to the rain.

  “Well, there’s no reason to stand out here. You’ll catch a cold. Get in your car, drive home, and take a warm shower.”