Game On: If I wasn't her student, it would be game on.

by Daiko, SC

  “She did, but he’s an important guy on the island. Rich and influential. It was Mam’s word against his.”

  “What happened?”

  I consider what to say next, and decide to go all-in. “One day, she arranged a viewing of one of his villas. But the viewers didn’t show up. We worked out afterward they were stooges. Instead, he was there. He tried to rape Mam.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “Mam arranged for me to meet her there as we were going out to a restaurant for dinner that night. We used to eat out a lot in Ibiza. If I hadn’t arrived and thumped him one, he’d have succeeded.”

  “What about Sara? Did she witness it?” Beth asks, and her voice is concerned.

  “No, thank God. She was at a friend’s place.”

  “Different life for you here,” Beth strokes my arm. “But at least you and your family are safe in Wales.”

  “I fucking hope so.”

  I don’t tell Beth about the fear that’s a part of my life. The fear that fucker will find out where we are. The fear he’ll come after Mam. I put my arm around Beth, hold her close, and my heart thuds I’m so crazy about her.

  She runs a hand up my back. “Why don’t I give you a massage,” she suggests. “You know how that always relaxes you. I can feel the tension in your shoulders.”

  “That would be awesome, princesa.” And it would. Beth’s massages are the best.

  We go through to her bedroom. She gets me to strip off and lie face-downwards on her bed. She pours massage oil into the palms of her hands and gets to work, her fingers kneading the knots from my muscles.

  But her touch is also fucking sexy and soon I have a hard-on that would break glass; my balls are so tight they could explode at any minute. Fuck!

  “Enough,” I groan, flipping myself over.

  She eyes my dick. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Damn right I am,” I smirk, grabbing her hand and placing it on my cock.

  13

  I catch my lip between my teeth. This boy, this boy… I’m so hot for him I could self-combust. It’s wrong, I know it’s wrong, so why does it feel so right? I’m developing feelings for him, that’s why. And I shouldn’t.

  Definitely shouldn’t.

  There’s no way he could feel the same way about me.

  Definitely no way.

  I pull off my clothes and clamber onto the bed. He presses his ripped body against mine, and reaches between my legs. “You’re soaked, princesa. I love you like this.”

  He pulls out his finger and touches it to my lips, and, without hesitation, I suck off my juices.

  “Dirty girl,” he laughs, and I laugh with him.

  He palms my tits, softly to start with, then more roughly, flicking my nipples with his thumbs and sending sparks down to my clit.

  I want him. I want him so fucking bad.

  My pussy throbs and I breathe real shallow, my hands running down his back to reach around his firm asscheeks. Then I writhe against him, rubbing myself against his toned young body.

  “I wanna taste you,” he grunts.

  He scoots down until his head is level with my pussy. I spread my legs wide and he positions himself between them. My fingers thread through his thick hair, and his fingers delve between my lower lips, making me even wetter for him. “Do it, Ryan, please,” I hiss.

  A quiver runs through me as he lowers his mouth to my clit, and the feel of his tongue is electric. I’m writhing into the sheets, my toes curling. Fuck…

  He pushes two fingers inside me while still flicking my clit with his tongue. Jesus, he’s so good. He adds a third finger, stretching me, pushing deep, hitting my g-spot. My legs jerk and I grab hold of his head as I buck against him, arching my back and hissing. “Oh, God, Ryan, I’m nearly there…”

  His fingers twist inside me, igniting the spark of my orgasm, tipping me over the edge; I come like a train, my legs thrashing. “Oh, yes!”

  Chuckling, he glides back up my body, and I feel his cock brush my thigh. I reach down to touch him, caressing his length and working it with my fingers.

  He rests on his forearms, and brings his mouth down on my breast, clamping my nipple between his teeth. I yelp, but it’s a nice pain, and sparks shoot through me, making my pussy clench with need. I want him again.

  “Let me get on top,” I say. He’s so big, we’ve learnt this is the best position. Our first fucks left me with a painfully bruised cervix, but now we know what works best. No need for a condom; I’ve been on the pill for over a month.

  He sits cross-legged on the bed, and I wrap my knees around his hips, straddling him, using his raised thighs to support my bottom so he doesn't penetrate too deep, too quickly. I move slowly, rocking back and forth, letting him enter me gradually as I push my pussy down on his massive cock. Ah, mmm…

  I ride him, his length sliding inside me. Fuck, this is hot. I bend my head for a kiss, and our tongues dance together as our mouths mesh and my erect nipples push against his rock-hard chest. I stroke his face. My lips pull at the soft skin of his neck and I give him light kisses behind the ear.

  Arching my spine, I close my eyes, and throw my head back. I squirm and grunt and ride his shaft. Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes. I feel him reach a dead end inside me, and it aches, oh fuck it aches so fucking nice.

  A low growl escapes his throat. “Fuck, Beth, gonna come.”

  “Yes, come for me, Ryan.”

  I love watching him come. I love seeing the pleasure in his face as he empties himself into me. I fucking love him. Oh, God…

  Everything draws up tight inside and I let out a squeal, my pussy throbbing as his pulsating dick pushes me over the brink.

  Collapsing on top of him, our skin hot and sweaty, I feel his fingers brush gently through my damp hair and I press a kiss to his lips. I caress his face, my fingers trailing across the dark stubble above his upper lip. “You’re so beautiful,” I say, pressing my cheek against his, “so beautiful when you come.”

  He angles his head and smiles, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Wanna do it again?”

  I roll off him, and stare at the ceiling. “Much as I’d love to jump your bones one more time,” I say, “we both have school tomorrow.”

  And the thought sends shivers of guilt through me.

  Can Ryan and I get away with this? I’ve been asking myself the question so often when I’m not with him it’s on a loop in my mind. When I’m with him, the way he looks at me, the way he touches me, the way he makes me feel, causes me to lose all reason. It’s like I’m two separate people… teacher and lover.

  The following day, I’m teaching Year 9, and there are a group of boys in the class, Tom, Spence and Jonathon, who like nothing better than to wind me up. Typical thirteen-year-olds. Today, their behaviour is a thousand times worse than usual. There’s a storm blowing outside, and wind is rattling the windows of my classroom just like the boys are rattling my equilibrium.

  They haven’t sat still all lesson, repeating the mantra that Spanish is boring and they can’t wait to drop the subject. Yadda yadda yah.

  I set the class a speaking task, getting them to act out a role-play where they’re shopping for clothes, practising their Spanish in groups. They’re noisy with it and I can barely hear myself think. I walk between them, listening and making suggestions, keeping an eye on the disruptive boys in the periphery of my vision.

  There’s a sudden scuffle between them, and Spence calls out. “Miss, Tom just threw my shoe out the window.”

  “Did not,” Tom smirks, mouth full of chewing gum.

  I walk up to him and hold out the wastepaper basket. He rolls his eyes, removes the gum and drops it into the bin. I didn’t see or hear the window being opened, so I decide to ignore the accusation.

  But, as walk past him, I notice that Spence is, indeed, missing a shoe. Jesus, I need eyes in the back of my head.

  Suddenly, Tom leaps out of his chair. “Ugh, Jonathon just farted,” he dances from one foot to the other.


  “He who smelt it dealt it,” Jonathan grins.

  And now the whole class are making retching noises and holding their noses. “It stinks,” blonde Samantha, squeals. “I nearly threw up in my mouth.”

  I go to open a window to let in some fresh air, but the wind makes it slam shut and catches my finger. Ouch!

  How did Tom manage to throw out the shoe with this gale blowing outside? He’s probably just hidden it somewhere.

  Jesus, it pongs in here. Kids break wind all the time, and the resulting odour goes with the territory of sharing a small room with a bunch of teenagers. Wait a minute. It occurs to me that no human being could have produced such a horrible stench. Someone must have let off a stink bomb. Oh, shit!

  “Right, everyone. Stay calm. It’s just a bad smell. It won’t kill you.” I glance at my watch. Nearly time for the bell. I’ll let the class out early…

  Without warning, the door bursts open and Ryan strides into the room… a black leather Dr Martens in his hand and a dark expression on his rain-splattered face.

  My mouth forms a stunned O.

  “I was outside, on my way to the library, and this landed on my head.” He waves the shoe. “Who threw it?”

  “He did,” Spence points to Tom.

  And before I can say or do anything, Ryan has lifted Tom up by his neck and pinned him to the wall.

  My stomach lurches.

  I go up to Ryan, my legs shaking. “PUT. HIM. DOWN!”

  He relaxes his hold, and Tom crumples to the floor.

  “What did you think you were doing, Ryan?” I can’t keep the anger from my voice.

  He ignores my question and sniffs. “What’s that smell? Which one of you motherfuckers is giving Miss Matthews a hard time?”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “I had the situation under control. It’s only a stink bomb and I was about to evacuate the class.”

  He shudders and holds up the offending shoe. “This landed on my head just now.” He jabs his finger into Tom’s chest. “I looked up and saw this douchebag grinning at me through the window. His dipshit buddy just confirmed it was him.”

  “I didn’t throw it at you,” Tom squeals. “It wasn’t supposed to land on anyone. Jonathon egged me on. Spence was bragging about how his Mam paid fifty quid for ‘em.”

  Ryan stares at him like he’ll eat him for breakfast. Whoa! Clearly Tom hasn’t a clue who he’s messing with.

  “You can’t take matters into your own hands, Ryan. There are procedures we should follow,” I say in my teacher voice.

  He glares at me, face like thunder.

  I step back, and rub my hands down my pencil skirt. The class has gone completely silent. “Right everyone, pack away your books. I’m letting you out a minute before the bell, so go quietly.”

  I stop Tom, Spence and Jonathon at the door. “You’ve landed yourselves in lunchtime detention, boys. I’ll want incident reports.”

  Ryan glowers at them as they race off. “I protect what’s mine,” he snarls in my ear. “And you are mine.”

  Lifting my bruised finger to my lips, I watch him stride down the corridor, and my pulse races.

  This isn’t a work night for Ryan. Our routine has been that I go for a run when I get home, and tackle any marking and lesson prep before supper. I usually manage a short nap before Ryan arrives. He often stays until the early hours and I’m not the kind of person who can manage on too little sleep; it makes me cranky. The nights when he doesn’t work, I go to bed early.

  Tonight, I follow the early-to-bed routine but I can’t drop off. There’s a worm of worry wriggling in my brain. Ryan and I still haven’t talked. He had rugby training after school, and it’s not the sort of conversation I want to have with him on the phone. He overstepped the mark today, crossed the line between our separate lives, and put me in a difficult position.

  The headteacher will be informed tomorrow. What if he thinks I’m unable to control my classes? And, more importantly, what will happen to Ryan?

  I find out the next morning as soon as I get to school. Megan takes me to one side in the staffroom. She smooths her blouse. “There’s been a complaint from Tom’s parents,” she says. “They’ve threatened to go to the police. They’re claiming Ryan attacked their son. The head has no alternative than to exclude Ryan from school, pending further enquiries.”

  My hand flies to my mouth. “Hasn’t the head read the incident reports I emailed to him, you know the ones I also copied to you? Tom’s and his friends’ behaviour was totally disruptive. Jonathon set off a stink bomb shortly after Tom threw Spence’s shoe out of the window.”

  Megan shakes her head. “Ryan shouldn’t have taken matters into his own hands.”

  “I know,” I sigh. “At least he let go of Tom when I told him to.”

  She touches my arm. “The head is very experienced at sorting out these kinds of problems. He’s arranged a meeting with Tom’s parents. I hope they won’t report Ryan. A criminal record would ruin any chance of a good future for the boy.”

  I watch Megan leave the room, guilt stabbing into me. This is all my fault. If Ryan and I weren’t having an inappropriate relationship, he wouldn’t have done what he did. I’ve abused my position of trust as his teacher. I’m a terrible person.

  14

  Mouth dry, I shove my key into the front door lock, turn it and step into the house.

  Grandad looks up from his armchair. “What the hell are you doing home from school, boy?”

  I suck in a deep breath, and release it slowly. There’s no other way of saying this than coming right out with it. “I’ve been excluded,” I say through gritted teeth. “My attendance at school has been put on hold pending further enquiries.”

  Grandad looks confused. “What enquiries?”

  I’m about to tell him when Mam pokes her head around the sitting room door. “I thought I heard your voice,” she says. “Is anything wrong? Are you ill?”

  “Boy’s been excluded from school,” Grandad says gruffly.

  Mam’s face pales. She lowers herself onto the sofa. “How can you have been excluded?”

  Sitting next to her, I explain about what went down yesterday, how I took matters into my own hands about the boy in Beth’s class, and Mam’s face pales even more.

  She gives me a look, a look that makes me feel about three feet tall. “Why didn’t you mention it last night?”

  “I didn’t think it was that serious.” And I fucking didn’t. I never imagined for one minute it would lead to this.

  Mam’s brow knits. “Physically attacking a younger pupil is a serious matter. What got into you, Ryan?”

  “He pissed me off… and I went apeshit.” I don’t mention I was protecting Beth; I don’t want Mam to get the wrong idea. Mam would put two and two together.

  “Let’s hope this boy’s parents don’t take things further,” she sighs.

  “I know.” I put my arm around her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Too late for that,” she mutters, pushing herself to her feet.

  She’s disappointed in me, and her disappointment makes me feel like crap. After she leaves for work, I go to my room. The mock exams start next week. Joder, I hope they allow me back into school to take them. A chill feeling cramps in my stomach…

  I sit at my desk and stare at my phone. Still no answer from Beth to the SMSs I sent her after getting the news of my exclusion this morning. She’s mad at me, and with good reason... I’ve been a fucking idiot.

  I spend the morning trying to study, but it’s hard to concentrate. I’m in deep shit, and, until I know the outcome of the headteacher’s meeting with Tom’s parents, I feel like my life has been put on hold.

  I make Grandad some lunch and get back to my books. He calls me into the sitting room shortly before three pm. “I found those pictures you asked about the other day,” he says, smoothing the leather cover of an old photo album on his lap.

  He hands it to me, and I’m amazed at the care with which the images have bee
n mounted. Grandad was right about Nan being a beauty. I can see where Mam gets her looks from; she has the same shimmering blue eyes and auburn curls as her mother.

  “Nan was a real babe,” I say to Grandad.

  His eyes shine with unshed tears. “I still miss her.”

  “I wish I remembered her better.”

  “She was a wonderful woman. When your mam decided to move to Spain, I was dead against it, but your nan insisted I let her live her own life. She was so proud to have you as her grandson. I only wish she’d lived long enough to know she had a granddaughter too.”

  “Yeah.” I glance at my watch. “Sara should be home from school in a few minutes. I hope we find out soon about the outcome of the headteacher’s meeting.”

  “You’ve been a stupid wanker,” Grandad says, and my mouth flaps open at his choice of words. “In future, think before you act, boy.”

  I reach into my pocket for my phone. Still no message from Beth. But it vibrates in my hand, and an SMS comes through from Josh.

  Fuck, man. You’re the talk of the school. Mr Davis was fuming you weren’t at rugby training.

  Did you tell him why? I tap.

  Yeah. He said he’d put in a good word with the head about you.

  I should find out what went down in the meeting with Tom’s parents any minute now.

  Let me know, eh?

  I bring up Beth’s number, about to message her. But the landline rings and Mam rushes into the kitchen to pick up. My pulse pounds in my throat.

  Beth responded to my messages last night, briefly, saying we needed to talk after I finished work today. And now I’m standing at the door to her flat, my heart thudding.

  I’m on a week’s exclusion from school. The incident reports from the other two boys backed up Beth’s statement that Tom had thrown Spence’s shoe out the window. He’d claimed he’d done it ‘for a laugh’, to wind up Spence, but, thankfully, his parents didn’t get the joke and the laugh ended up being on him; he’s also been excluded from school… for two days not a week. The police will not be involved.