"Like I said, it gives me pleasure to please you; I love it. But my ultimate pleasure comes from knowing that I'm the only want who gets to do that," he replied. "I won't sacrifice my convictions just because you are almost too incredibly sexy to turn down. I can be stronger than that. When I first made love to you, I didn't know…or even think…that you'd go back to him. When you did, I vowed not to…not to cave on how I felt or what I wanted."
He knelt down on the floor, looking me in the eye. "And I haven't caved or changed my mind. I want you—only you. That's not going to change," he said. "I really need to go though. Work's been so great about Megan and everything. I can't just skip out on a client and dinner. I'm sorry Janelle. I'll see you Thursday."
Leo grabbed my hand and pulled me up off the bed. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me close to him, securing me tightly against him. No matter how close he held me, I felt a million miles away from him, more distant than I knew was possible. In the past month, Leo had become a part of me, a crucial part of me. I believed that we were bonded: emotionally, intellectually, and sexually. Now, I felt worlds away from him. I hadn't even realized that the time Leo and I'd slept together was the only time we ever actually had. For some reason, I'd felt like Leo and I had been sexually connected forever. Nearly every second I spent with Briggs, we were having sex or about to have sex or just done having sex. Briggs was sex, raw, carnal, hot sex. Leo'd made love to me a grand total of two times, yet I felt like he'd always been a part of my sexuality. How could that be?
Char and I decided to spend the morning getting ready for Briggs' birthday. She dragged me all over town, so I could buy sexy lingerie, a birthday gift, and a cute outfit to wear that night. Sometimes, she was out of control. She was on a spending spree, too, buying something at every store we stopped in. I guess she really was blowing through her "bigger boobies" stash.
I actually went entirely out of my comfort zone and bought a sexy little costume instead of the lingerie. We'd gone to an adult store, and there were these trampy, but adorable referee costumes on the clearance rack. I couldn't resist, knowing the football player would enjoy penalizing me all night long in the end zone. I was thinking like a dirty whore; obviously it was Briggs' day. The birthday boy certainly brought out the trollop in me, and I enjoyed every minute of it.
I'd texted Briggs earlier in the day to tell him that he didn't have to plan our date night; I had everything I needed to give him a fun and memorable 24th birthday. Briggs' plan was to spend the morning with Tate, hanging out and brotherly bonding. He'd said that he and Tate were in a better place. Obviously, Briggs worried about him, but was treating him more like a valued brother than like his scum-of-the-earth kid brother. I guess that was a start.
Briggs told his parents what was going on, and they'd apparently put a shorter, much more durable leash on Tate. Supposedly, Tate was angry and reluctant, but Briggs thought he actually secretly liked the strict attention and sturdier barriers. My plan was to enlist Tate's help in the fall as a student aide during his free periods, so I could keep a closer eye on him and connect with him on a friendly level, hoping to deter him from future poor choices.
Since the day before was my "day off" from my boy-toy fun, I'd spent the majority of it trying to figure out what I wanted to do for Briggs. I even Googled "fun dates," but didn't get much there. I needed to use my own creative juices to get Briggs' juices flowing. I had a few tricks up my sleeve, but felt a little funny carrying them out. I knew that I wanted to be an uninhibited little tart, but the wholesome rule-follower inside me often reared her bashful, remorseful head.
Char and I swung by the mall to buy an outfit for the night. Char convinced me to buy white skinny jeans, which I was reluctant to do, because I was beginning to think my ass and thighs were getting much too large for skinny jeans. She disagreed, and so did the adorable, twig-like, perky little sales girl. She couldn't have weighed more than 101 pounds; I wanted to stick her in my pocket and give her to Tate as a gift for good behavior. She was totally adorable. Anyway, I caved and bought the white skinny jeans. I fell in love with a bright emerald green halter-top with an empire waist. The flowy shirt made me feel better about the tightie-whitie jeans. I wanted to buy green flat, gladiator sandals, but Char wouldn't hear of it. Using the competitive card, she said that if I took Briggs to Cleveland, then I needed to look hotter than all the skanky ass whores, who were going to be drooling all over him. That did it. I bought the dangerously high white and green striped wedges she'd insisted upon.
"Why're we going here?" she asked, when we entered the Indians' Team Shop at the mall.
"I'm not wearing green…or even those heels…to a baseball game," I explained.
"Why the fuck—frick—why the frick not?" she asked, clearly upset with this decision.
"Frick? Really?" I asked, scoffing at her and her choice of word correction. "Because, that's just weird. I need my Tribe gear. I'll change after the game into the sexy shit. I promise."
"Whatevs. I just don't get why you can't be sexy all night?" she asked, cringing at the red t-shirt I was buying for myself, and the blue one I decided to buy for Briggs too.
As we were arguing over the ridiculousness or rationality of choosing to wear Indians clothes to a Tribe game, we heard, "You should be ashamed of yourself, young lady."
Turning around, an overweight woman in her early to mid-50s was staring at us. Char and I glanced back and forth at each other, not knowing what she was talking about or to whom she was talking.
"You," she said, pointing at me. "I read about you…Professor Pedophile…the way you prey on your young impressionable male students. You're a disgrace to the teaching profession. I cannot believe—"
"Shut the mother fuck up or I will rip your goddamn tongue out of your judgmental, bitchy ass mouth," Char screamed, drawing a great deal of unwanted attention over to us. "You know nothing, but pass judgment on everything,"
I grabbed at Char's arm to pull her out of the store, but she shoved me away. Charlene continued, as her voice carried, and she built up a giant mouthful of spiteful anger. She was a powder keg about to explode. "Just because your husband hasn't bothered to hacksaw his way through your cobweb-coated cooter to fuck you in over a decade doesn't mean…does not fucking mean…you can accost my friend in a store."
Pointing at Char, closing in on her, the lady said, "Listen here you little sluts, you will not—"
Batting the woman's hand out of the way, she said, "No you listen…and you listen good, because I'm only going to say it once. You don't know her, have never even met her. This girl would do anything for her students; she's the teacher you dreamed your kids could have. Ya know why?"
Horrified, the lady started to back away and turn her back on Char, but Char circled around to face her again. "Oh I'm not done, not even close, lady. You started this; you will listen, while I fucking finish it. My friend, she actually cares about her students, not just their damn schoolwork or their grades. She cares about their lives, their futures, their happiness."
Char put down her purse, forcing the lady to back up, probably afraid Char was going to hit her. "For nine months…nine months…out of the fucking year, I lose my friend, because she devotes all of her time and her energy to those kids. Ya know why? Because people like you spend too much time worrying about what everybody else in this world is doing and not what your fucking kids are doing."
At this point, the woman had heard enough and began to leave the store, only infuriating and firing Char up more. As she was exiting the store, Char followed her, yelling loudly, "Your kids, they're out getting high, getting drunk, getting abortions, and bullying kids into suicide, while you sit your lazy, fat, sex-deprived asses at home finding new ways to ridicule and hurt the lives of those around you. So go fuck yourself…go fuck your husband…or just go fuck off…and leave us…and everyone else the fuck alone. You ugly fucking cunt-rock." Applause erupted throughout the store, stopping Char in her tracks. She looked around, somew
hat bewildered. Oftentimes, when Char was on a roll, she forgot her surroundings and sometimes her overall purpose.
Char stormed fiercely back over to me, raging like a lunatic. "I cannot fucking believe—"
Cutting her off, "So do you think I should buy a baseball hat to match?" I asked, holding one up near my head, smiling from ear-to-ear.
"No, I think you should buy me a shot…maybe four of them," she said, slumping down on the bench next to the dressing rooms, breathing like she'd just run a race.
Laughing and hugging her, I said, "And the best friend of the century award goes to…Charlene Palmer."
Char rolled her eyes and shoved me off of her. "And what lesson did we learn here today, Janelle?" she asked. I shrugged my shoulders, not certain what she was getting at. "Oh for God's sake...there is no reason for two sexy, single women to be buying clothes in the Indians' store."
Truthfully, the whole incident had me spooked. I was beginning to see what Mr. Baker, my superintendent, had meant. I'd worked for so long to try to make a name for myself, a reputation in the district that meant something, only for it to be tarnished and destroyed within a month's time. Was this really how I wanted the general public to view me? Briggs Alexander was a hotshot superstar now, but that didn't change how the rest of the world was going to view me. Janelle Garrity was the harlot school teacher who seduced her impressionable young students. Nobody seemed to think or want to believe that this grown man, this 24-year-old man, was the one who seduced me. I was the villain; he was the innocent victim, as was Leo. Wow, that sucked ass.
"I can't believe you wouldn't let me drive," Briggs whined, leaning his seat back in my car.
"You can't drive. I've got big birthday plans for you. They won't pan out if I don't get you sloppy-ass drunk so I can take advantage of you," I said, glancing quickly at him.
Let's be honest; I'm a piss-poor driver, distracted at all times. Whenever I go anywhere with my friends or family, I very rarely get to drive. Briggs had already yelled, "Watch it," three times, and we'd only been driving for ten minutes. But I wanted this day to be all about him. I didn't want him to have to worry about anything. I was in the driver's seat, in every possible way.
"It's not being taken advantage of if I'm a more than willing participant," he argued. "Janelle, I am willing. Very willing."
"You don't think I already know that?" I asked, giggling at him.
"Not how I mean, you don't," he said, turning more to face me. "I talked to Char the other day."
"Y'all are pretty chummy," I said. "And what did my big mouthed bestie bitch say?" God only knew what Char and Briggs talked about when I wasn't monitoring and censoring their conversations.
"I don't think you realize how into this…into you…I am. You should've told me about those skanky chicks in the bathroom," he said, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Briggs, I didn't want to upset you, too," I admitted. "Plus, it was so embarrassing. I didn't want us to have to deal with all that shit on top of the huge pile of shit we're already dealing with."
"Janelle, the Marcus and Vince shit is going to go away, probably pretty soon," he explained. "But that shit, the shit from that bathroom, that's not going anywhere. I've been dealing with that kind of crap for ages. If you're into me…into us…then you're gonna need to get some thicker-ass skin." He trailed his hand down my arms and back up through my hair. "Babe, you need to tell jealous bitches like that to fuck off and that Briggs Alexander has all he's ever wanted…and will ever want."
"Jealous? You think they wanted you?" I asked, jokingly.
"Hell yeah, have you seen this?" he said, grinning, lifting his shirt as he ran his hand over his stomach. "They wanted what you have baby."
"Or…maybe…" I couldn't think of anything clever, so I just bit my lower lip.
"Ya got nothing, right?" he teased.
"I got nothing," I confessed. "You sir, are so right, so fucking right.
After the Indians' game, Briggs was all bummed out, because we'd lost. He was such a guy; you'd have thought that he played for them the way he acted all defeated and mopey. It didn't matter that we had Club Seats (thanks to Jasper), didn't matter that we had all-you-can-eat food and drinks throughout the entire game (Jasper again), didn't matter that I'd put a cute birthday message on the scoreboard, and it didn't matter that he'd caught a foul ball and was glorified all over the jumbo-tron. What mattered was that Briggs' night was ruined, because the Yankees beat the Indians, 10-4. This was new for me; Marcus was certainly not into sports. Jasper was, but I never had to hang out with pouty "My Team Lost" Jasper.
"Are you gonna pull yourself outta this funk?" I asked, as we walked down the street. "Have you not seen what I'm wearing?" He hadn't even commented when I went into the bathroom after the game and changed quickly into my skank-a-licious outfit. Briggs didn't even give me his "I wanna fuck the shit out of you look" that I was getting quite accustomed to.
"I'm not in a funk. I just can't believe we gave up six runs in the seventh inning. Who does that? They didn't have anyone better in the bullpen?" he asked for the millionth time.
"Seriously, if you use the word 'bullpen' one more time, I'm going to lock you in one," I threatened.
"Janelle, a bullpen isn't a real—"
I stopped dead in my tracks, crossing my arms over my chest, refusing to take another step. "Briggs Alexander, I'm gonna drive your whiny ass home and call your birthday a total loss if you don't get back into the game—this game—the game of Janelle seducing the mother-fuck out of you," I scolded.
"Okay, you win. You're right. I'm sorry. Keep seducing. Not another word from me," he said, raising his hands in surrender.
"Blow on this, Baby," Briggs said, staring into my eyes. I glanced around at the crowd around us; women just flocked to him. Many people even took pictures of him without his knowledge or consent. Maybe he did know, but he didn't let on like he did.
"If I had a quarter for every time someone begged me to blow—"
"Just do it," he said, laughing. I blew on the dice, and he threw them down the table. We were acting like we were old pros at Craps, betting big on the table, and losing the majority of our money. I was already down $80.00; Briggs was down $470.00. Gambling was certainly not our thing, but we were having a blast. Once he really snapped out of his funk, he was back to the fun-loving Briggs that I was falling for. You could always bank on a casino being a good time—even if you weren't bringing home the bank.
He hadn't noticed my outfit or that I'd really even changed until some random guy stared at me as I walked by. I tried to ignore him, but the guy said, "Dayum" while staring at my ass. Briggs turned on him, sizing him up. The guy gave him "a thumbs up" and kept walking. When Briggs turned back and looked at me, he almost looked shocked that I no longer had my Tribe gear on. "When'd you change? That's…that's…'dayum'…you're so fucking hot."
I winked at him and said, "I figured that since the Indians didn't get lucky and our gambling wasn't so lucky that I'd better take you home and make sure we both got lucky on 7-11."
"Now, you're thinking. Let's blow this last 30 bucks on slots, and get home to play a whole different kind of slots," he teased.
"Well look at you, feeding me some puns. You sure know how to make an English teacher hot," I said, kissing him.
On the drive home (Briggs drove), he kept hounding me to tell him what the rest of his surprises were. I wouldn't cave, knowing that he'd love what else I had up my sleeve. He could wait it out.
'Wanna know what I really want for my birthday?" he asked, glancing at me.
"Let me guess," I said, scooting closer to him. 'You've always dreamed of getting 77 South road head."
"Fuck no!" he said, shaking his head vigorously. "I had a buddy in college whose girl used to get off on sucking him while he drove. Liked when truckers could see and shit," he explained. "Well, one time, he got too into it, and hit the guardrail. Well, she bit down. Let's just say, he was out of commission for a bit. Ha…'
nother pun."
"Seriously? Did she like bite it…off?" I asked, shocked.
"Nah, but he had some bad injuries. Stitches in some crazy places," he said, shivering at the thought.
"Noted. No road head for Briggs. Got it." I said.
"No, what I really want…what would make this the best birthday ever…would be to spend all night with you, sleeping with you in my arms," he admitted.
Looking at him, seeing the sincerity and hope in his crystal blue eyes, I knew I couldn't deny him this request. Honestly, I didn't even want to deny him. I wanted to sleep all night in his arms and wake up next to him.
"I love them," he said, trying on the sunglasses I'd bought for him. "I've been meaning to get another pair. Lost mine last summer. How do they look?"
"Perfect," I said, kissing the tip of his nose. "They'll do the trick."
"What trick? What's that mean? What're you trying to do?" he said eyeing me suspiciously.
"Uh, let's just say, you get a little uglier when you put them on," I said, laughing.
"Uglier? What?" he said, pretending to be offended.
"I'm trying to keep those eyes to myself. I figure chicks will back off if they can't see those beautiful baby blues," I explained, feeling territorially victorious.
Taking of the sunglasses, "You're using me for my eyes, aren't you?" he asked, making his eyes really wide and crazily creepy.
"You know it," I said. "Now for the fun gift." I went around to the other side of the couch and grabbed the jar, handing it to him. "This is a jar of 24 things, because you're 24 today, that I'd either like to do to you, have done to me, or think we should do together…and they're all deliciously dirty and sexy." He reached for one of the papers, but I stopped him. "Slow down. We want to save some, grab a few every day or so. It'll be fun. So let's see what fun things we're gonna do tonight."
The Final Lesson Plan Page 16
