by Claire Adams
“Tessa! Are you going to let me in?”
“Sure,” I said. “I was just getting changed, but come on up.”
I unlocked my apartment door and then rushed off into the bedroom, grabbing a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants out of my drawer. I was just sliding the shirt on over my head when I heard the door open and my mother bustle in. She headed straight for the bathroom.
“Ah,” she said a minute later as she came out. “Sorry about that. Tea runs straight through me. It was delicious though; you should let me take you out there sometime. Such a nice view. Anyway, I wanted to stop by and see how you were doing. I didn’t love the way that we left things the last time you stopped over.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” I said. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“Are you sure? Your father and I had a long talk about it when he got home from golf that day. He’s not going to change his mind about anything, which I’m sure won’t come as any surprise to you. I partially agree with it—we did all talk about it beforehand. But at the same time, I know that you’re a good girl and if you say you’re going to turn things around, then you will.”
She smiled, and I immediately felt bad, because she had no way of knowing what I was about to go do.
“Well, thanks, Mom,” I said. “It helps to hear you say that. And I wasn’t expecting Dad to change his mind about anything. I know he’s not like that.”
“It wouldn’t hurt him to be a little more flexible about some things, though. And it’s not like you’re failing anything, right? That’s what I told him—you weren’t failing anything, though I realized after I said it I didn’t know for sure whether or not that was true.”
“No, I’m not failing anything.”
“I knew it. Everything’s going to work out, Tessa. We all hit rough patches now and then. I don’t want you to feel like we’re just going to cut you off if everything doesn’t go perfectly in your life, and I realized that’s kind of how it sounded.”
I rarely wore G-strings, and I wasn’t used to the feeling of the string part in between my ass cheeks. I shifted. “Well, it’s good to hear you say that you don’t mean that. But I think Dad does. I think if I were to get B’s on my next report card, he’d just cut me off.”
“Only until you got your grades back up. The way he sees it is that he’s been very generous with you and that you’ve got ample time to dedicate to your studies. You know, your father put himself through college. Your grandparents weren’t wealthy, and your father put himself through school, and he worked.”
“I know, Mom. I’ve heard the story before. I don’t need a whole Donovan family history lesson.”
My mother smiled. “I know. Anyway,” she said. “I didn’t come over here tonight to be a Debbie Downer. I thought that maybe we should go out and do something. Would you like to go see a movie? I think there’s one out that I wanted to watch but I can’t remember the name of it. I’m sure it’ll be playing though.”
“I can’t,” I said. “Tonight’s not a good night for that. I’ve actually got a lot of studying to do.”
“Oh, of course!” my mother said. “Silly me. I’m not trying to get in the way of your studies. That’s so responsible of you, Tessa. I’ll be sure to tell your father that I was trying to get you to go out and do something fun and you chose to stay home and study. That will please him very much.”
I forced a grin. I just wanted her to stop talking, because everything she said was just making me feel worse. She was looking at me with such pride, like I’d already gotten my grades back up. I could just hear her in my head, what she’d be telling my father when she got home, how I was just going to stay in and study and what a good, responsible girl I was.
“Yeah, I better get studying,” I said. “I don’t mean to kick you out or anything, Mom, but—”
“No, no, you don’t need to apologize. I’ll just show myself out. Maybe we can go out to brunch or something in a couple days. I’ll be in touch though; I won’t just drop in with no notice.” She came over and hugged me, and as I felt her hands go around my back, I was suddenly overcome with the fear that she would feel the bra I was wearing and know exactly what I was up to. But she just gave me a squeeze, and then she let go and waved and showed herself out.
I showed up at Leo’s wearing a pair of black leggings, a rose-colored skirt, and a scallop-necked black T-shirt with ruched sides. Before I’d gone into his building, I turned the voice memo on my iPhone on and slipped it into the front part of my backpack, which I left partially unzipped.
He lived in a high rise that overlooked the Financial District, and he came down to let me in. We took the elevator to the 10th floor, and I followed him down a softly lit carpeted hallway. It almost felt like a hotel.
He hadn’t said much, other than hi and to ask how I was. In the elevator, part of me had been expecting him to rip my clothes off right then and there, but he didn’t.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” he said when we went into the apartment. It was a one-bedroom, like mine, but I could tell it was much bigger. There was a front entryway, then to the right was a small office with a laptop and a desk covered in papers. To the left was the kitchen, with a bar, and then the living room. There was a short hallway that led to two other rooms, which I assumed were the bathroom and the bedroom.
“Come on in,” he said, closing the door behind me. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a gray T-shirt. I wondered if he was nervous, or if he had spent any time thinking about what he was going to wear. Probably not.
“Hi,” I said, glad that my voice didn’t shake. I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders. I was nervous, but it was an excited nervousness. I didn’t want to come across that way though—I wanted to come across as the empowered sort of woman that Lindsey had said I should be. I let my eyes travel around his apartment, and then I looked at him. “Nice place.”
He held my gaze for a moment, as though he was trying to decide if I was being genuine. Then he nodded slowly. “Thanks,” he said.
We went in, and I put my bag down; we sat next to each other on the couch. The air seemed to crackle between us, and I wondered who was going to speak first. If it ended up being me, I knew I was going to say something stupid, like some comment about the weather or something. But neither of us said anything; instead, he slid closer to me and reached up to touch my cheek, turning my face toward his.
“Kiss me,” he said.
I closed my eyes and leaned forward, maybe an inch, until I felt my lips brush against his. He pressed his mouth back against mine, gently at first, and then with increasing intensity. His mouth opened, and mine did, too, and the tips of our tongues touched. It felt like I had kissed him before; he felt familiar, yet exciting, and my body pressed up against his.
He slid his hands up my skirt, his palm cupping me between the legs. I could feel how wet I was. He pulled one of his hands out and yanked my shirt up, pushing my bra up so my breasts were exposed. My nipples were hard, and he leaned down and put his mouth on my right breast, lightly biting at my nipple. His other hand kept rubbing me, and I felt my inner thigh muscles trembling.
“Let’s get these things off of you,” he said in a low voice, raising his head for a second. He didn’t slide the leggings down, though. Instead, he grabbed the waist and pulled, and I heard the fabric rip. My bra and shirt were up near my collarbone, my skirt was up around my waist, and my leggings were hanging in tatters. The only thing separating me from him now was that flimsy little G-string, made even flimsier by how wet I was. My thighs were slick, and for a second I was afraid that it was going to gross him out, but then he put his hand down there again, and I saw on his face just how much this turned him on.
“How lovely,” he said, almost to himself, and then he pushed the G-string to the side and ran a finger from my clit to my pussy. He did this several times, each time making my whole body tremble. The next time he did it, he didn’t bring his hand back up, but instead, worked a finger inside of me, watchi
ng my face the whole time.
I knew I was making funny expressions, but I didn’t care. It seemed to be the only way to respond to how good he was making me feel—grit my teeth, squeeze my eyes shut, furrow my brow. My whole body felt like warm clay that he could mold however he wanted to.
He paused to take his own pants off, then his shirt. Before he settled back on the couch next to me, he stood there for a moment, naked, his cock hard and huge, bigger than I remembered Nick’s. He sat down next to me and took my hand, and brought it over to his lap. I closed my hand around him, my fingers not quite able to meet. I moved my hand slowly up and down, pressing my fingers against the ridge that ran along the underside. He leaned back against the couch, hands clasped behind his head. He watched me the whole time, and then after about a minute, he had me stop. His cock was huge, pulsing in my hand, the skin soft like satin. He sat up.
“Lean back against the couch like I just was,” he said. We traded positions, so I was sitting, and he stood in front of me, pushing my thighs apart. He kneeled on the edge of the couch, hoisting one of my legs, then the other, up onto his shoulders. I could feel the head of his cock pushing against me, that momentary pause before he slid in, halfway first, then, with a slow push of his hips, the rest of the way in. I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to relax my muscles around him. My body felt as though it were humming with electricity.
He started to move, pushing himself in and out of me. I’d never actually done this position before, with my legs up on someone’s shoulders, and it felt as though he were further inside of me than anyone had ever been. I tried to take deep breaths. Little groans escaped from my throat.
He was moving faster now, practically folding me in half, as though he was going to compress my pleasure into the tiniest space possible before allowing it to explode out. I was right there at the edge, about to get pushed over, when suddenly he stopped. My eyes flew open. He was still inside of me, still hard, but his hips remained still. He eased back a little so my legs slid off his shoulders.
“Wrap your arms around my neck,” he said. “And wrap your legs around my waist. Hold on tight.”
I did as he said, and, with his cock still inside of me, he stood up slowly. Now that I was upright, he was putting more pressure on a different part of me, and it sent a shiver up my spine. I rocked my hips back and forth, trying to rub against him, because each time I did it, that shiver got more and more intense. It felt like it was shooting into my brain, and like my whole body was just going to dissolve. I thought he was going to walk over to the wall and press me against there and finish the job, but instead, he went over to the sliding glass door at the other side of the living room. He slid it open and then we were out on a small balcony. I could hear cars below, someone shouting something. There was a round teak table and a few chairs; he kicked one of the chairs out of the way he slowly lowered me onto the table. The wood was cool and smooth against my ass. There was the mildest of breezes, and it blew my hair softly against my face. His cock had remained in me this whole time, and once I was on the table, he grabbed onto my hips and began to fuck me again. He moved slowly at first, doing circles, first one way, then the other. My inner thighs were like jelly. I reached around and gripped his shoulder blades, then raked my fingers down the smooth planes of his back. His movements sped up, and I arched my back, feeling the head of his cock press right against that spot inside me. I shuddered, feeling like the amount of pleasure coursing through my veins was going to overflow and explode out of me. We were both panting, our movements synchronizing. I squeezed my eyes shut, my brain short circuiting as the sensation overtook me and I let out a shriek, not caring that we were outside, that people could hear me. Leo came a moment later, letting out his own anguished-sounding growl, his muscles trembling underneath my fingertips. We were both slick, drenched in sweat. He buried his face against my neck, his breath warm.
“That was incredible,” he said. “Holy shit. Wow.”
Instead of going back inside right away, we stood there on the railing, looking out over the city. I didn’t care that I was completely naked, that anyone could have looked up at that moment and seen me, even though we were mostly shrouded in darkness. It felt deliciously risky, the whole thing.
And I couldn’t wait to do it again.
Chapter Twelve
Leo
There was a part of me that wanted to go over to the white board and scrawl I am sleeping with Tessa on it, just to see what the reaction would be. I could imagine the surprised, disbelieving faces. With the exception of her friend Lindsey, no one in this classroom had any clue what was going on, and I found that to be both unbelievable and a bit arousing. To everyone else, me looking over at Tessa was simply a teacher making eye contact with a student, nothing more. I liked the idea that we were sneaking around, that we were doing something that no one else had any idea about. Yet at the same time, it seemed almost implausible that no one was able to sense the energy between us, no one was able to realize that the looks we were sharing were so much more than just looks.
Today, Kristin had a stack of assignments she’d graded and was going to hand back. I had gone through the papers after she did, mostly skimming what the students had written, and glancing over some of the comments she’d added, too.
“I’ll hand the papers back,” I said to Kristin. She had started to reach for the stack, but I pulled them back. I had paper-clipped, not stapled, the note to Tessa’s assignment, and I didn’t want to take the chance that it would get detached before reaching her.
The note said: Wear a skirt and no underwear to the next class. I handed Tessa her paper back, and though I continued handing the rest of the papers to the other students, I kept her in my peripheral vision. I saw her flip the first page back and come across my handwritten note. Her brow furrowed slightly as she read it; then that friend of hers, Lindsey, leaned over, said something I couldn’t quite make out, and Tessa had to hurriedly flip the front page of her paper back down. Her cheeks were flushed a little, but there was a tiny smile at the corners of her mouth.
I took my place back at the front of the classroom. “I’d like you to begin brainstorming possible articles for submission to the first issue of the Benton Daily Journal,” I said. “Ideally, it would be a feature article, but something shorter would also be acceptable since this is the first time that most of you have submitted something for publication.”
“Are they allowed to submit previously written articles?” Kristin asked. “I think there were a few that would make good candidates.”
I hadn’t thought about this, but sure, why not. “I don’t see why that would be a problem,” I said.
“And who’s in charge of deciding what gets published?” someone asked.
“I think eventually the students will be in charge of that. They haven’t named an editor-in-chief yet since this is really just getting back off the ground again, but right now, Carla Douglass is going to be overseeing that role. I’m helping her, so together we’ll get to decide which articles we put in the first issue. And we’ve definitely covered enough material in the course that I have full confidence in every single member of this class being able to write something that could be published. You all have that ability; you just need to put it to good use.”
Most of the students seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of possibly getting something published, which, even I had to admit, was a bit refreshing. I still remembered how I felt the first time something of mine had been published, and there really was something to be said for seeing your name, in print, and knowing that people who didn’t even know you were going to read it.
I was hoping Tessa would hang around after class got out, but she and Lindsey were deep in conversation; rather, it appeared that Lindsey was telling her something and Tessa was listening intently. They walked out of the classroom together, though not before Tessa shot a burning look my way, with such an intensity it made my groin ache.
I could feel Kristin’s eyes
on me as she packed up her stuff. “What do you think those two are scheming?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Tessa and Lindsey. It seems like they’ve got something up their sleeves.”
I shrugged. “Maybe they’re talking about what sort of article they’re going to write for the paper.”
She snorted. “I doubt it. Though I must say, Lindsey did a far better job than I was expecting on that most recent assignment.”
“Well, don’t judge a book by its cover,” I said.
Kristin frowned at my use of a cliché. “I’d like to help you with picking out the articles. I mentioned it to Carla, and she thinks it’s a good idea.”
“Sure,” I said. That meant fewer articles that I would have to read, and that was fine with me. I packed up my shit, said bye to Kristin, and headed down to my office.
Someday, this would not be my office anymore, a prospect that didn’t exactly make me sad. Though I didn’t hate it right now. I didn’t hate Benton right now, either, and I wasn’t eagerly daydreaming about when I would no longer work here; rather, I was eagerly daydreaming about getting to be with Tessa again.
There was a knock on the door, and I looked up, hoping it was her.
It wasn’t, though; it was just Carla, returning that book she’d borrowed.
“Thanks so much,” she said. “I really do need to get my own copy.”
“No problem.” I took the book from her and slid it back onto the shelf. She was still standing there. “Was there something else you wanted to talk about?”
“Well, I thought it might be a good idea to set up a time to get together to talk about this newspaper. I think it’s a great idea, but to be completely honest, I’ve got so much going on right now that I’m not really sure how I’m going to be able to fit this in, too. Which is why I’d like us to be prepared, in terms of how this is going to proceed, and not leave it until the last minute.”
