Schooled 4.0

by Deena Bright

  “Ice cream!” I squeal, thankful for the distraction. “Pull over, let’s get ice cream.” Leo turns the car into the ice cream shop’s parking lot. The place is packed; summer nights’ heat brings people out of the woodwork.

  Leo and I stand in line, discussing our many options. Luckily, things aren’t uncomfortable between us. It’s strange like that with Leo; he’ll make these statements and then act as if they never really came out of his mouth. It’s a puzzling, yet endearing quality. Normally, when I reveal too much or lay everything out on the table, I’m mortified after and want to crawl immediately into a hole and die a slow a painful death.

  Beginning to eat our sundaes, we decide to sit on the back picnic table at the far corner of the parking lot. I pick up my cherry, disgusted, about to throw it out, when Leo grabs my wrist, and scolds, “Don’t even think about it.”

  “What? This cherry here? You want it?” I tease, trying to release his grip. He’s too strong for me. He holds my wrist, bringing my hand to his mouth, cherry dangling. He sticks his tongue out, pulling my wrist closer to him. Finally, I unexpectedly give up my restraint at the same time he pulls harder, forcing me to punch him in the mouth, smashing the cherry all over his face.

  “Holy shit,” he groans, holding his mouth.

  “Oh my God, Leo, I’m so sorry.” I apologize profusely, trying to wipe his face.

  “It’s fine really,” he says, taking the napkins from me to wipe off his face. “But let’s be perfectly clear on this, we’re even now.” I don’t know if it’s the heat, his dimples, his confession, or his strength, but I am truly beginning to melt. Still feeling horribly, I tell him I’ll be right back and run around front to the counter, while he waits at the picnic table.

  Returning, I dangle a cherry between my thumb and forefinger, donning the best guilty puppy-dog face I can muster. With my lip out, I ask, “Am I forgiven?” He nods, his eyes blazing. I feed him the cherry; his tongue darts out, grasping the cherry and my thumb simultaneously. He sucks both into his mouth. I gasp as my eyes widen, and my knees weaken. He sucks softly on my finger, not taking his eyes from mine.

  Frozen, not moving, staring at him, he inches closer to me at the same time we hear, “Miss Garrity!” Startled and guilty, I turn.

  Vince!

  Vince is closing in on us, shaking his head, disapprovingly. “Well now, Miss Garrity seems like you’re just getting all around this summer, huh?”

  The creep.

  “Hey Vince, do you know Leo Cling? I think you graduated together.” I say, casually, regaining my composure.

  Leo stands up, offering his hand. Vince just nods, and says, “Yeah, didn’t I fuck with you a few times in high school?” Vince laughs, looking every bit the smug asshole that he is.

  Leo just sits right back down, not phased at all by Vince. I roll my eyes, and turn away from him. Vince walks around to stand between Leo and me, separating us. “So Miss Garrity, it’s good to see you so soon again.” He looks at me with raised eyebrows, and an all-knowing look. Shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head, Vince finally walks away. Calling over his shoulder, he adds, “It’s good to see that you’re still trying to touch so many students’ lives.”

  Groaning, I tell Leo that I’m ready to go back home. We’re still about fifteen minutes from my brother’s house. Of all people to run into! Vince is a loud mouth, sneaky bastard. Isn’t he supposed to be golfing anyway? He’d stopped by the house earlier today to get his clubs from Briggs. How can Briggs be friends with him?

  Briggs.

  Oh God, Vince is going to tell Briggs that I was here with Leo. But what does that matter? That’s okay, right? We said we weren’t “dating,” didn’t we? Well, we aren’t. I can hang out with whomever I choose. Why is whomever I choose these days always former students?

  Hot, sexy, mouth-watering students?

  This doesn’t have to be as big of a deal as I’m making it out to be. I toured houses with a former student, offered my advice. We stopped for ice cream, at my request, on the ride home. No more, no less. Briggs has to know Vince is a douche. I can truly convince Briggs that Vince doesn’t know what he saw, if he saw anything at all. I’m making too much out of this—worrying over nothing. Briggs won’t be at my house for another hours. I have time to figure this out.

  LEO’S QUIET ON the way home. I welcome the silence. We listen to the Best of Howard, only talking when we want to comment on the show. Nearing Jasper’s house, Leo finally says, “Janelle, I had fun today. Thanks for going with me and for trying to help me decide.” I love his sincerity and sweet nature. I wonder what would’ve happened if Vince hadn’t shown up. Guess that answer is best unknown.

  Looking down at my phone, I didn’t realized we’d pulled into the drive until Leo asks, “Hey what’s Briggs Alexander doing here?”

  Holy fuck! No no no no, this cannot be happening.

  “Hmmm, I’m not sure. I guess we’ll find out,” I respond with a barely audible whisper. I get out of the car and start down the drive. Walking slowly toward Briggs, Leo joins me at my side, walking a little closer to me than normal. This is not good, not good at all.

  Leo walks up to Briggs, shakes his hand, and says, “Briggs, hey man, that special on ESPN last night was sweet. Congrats, dude.”

  Leo thumps his back, looks at me and says, “Did you see the show, Jan… Miss Garrity?” Briggs catches Leo’s stumble with my name, glances at him quickly, but then his gaze, his burning hurtful gaze stays mainly on me.

  Oh fuck!

  Oh fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck!

  With his blazing crystal blue eyes still pinned only on me, Briggs says, “Yeah MISS GARRITY, did you see my show last night?” He’s mad. He’s hurt. I’m speechless. “Or maybe you’d like to see the picture one of my buddies just sent me?” he asks, accusingly. Oh my God, Vince took a picture of us. How in the world could I have thought any of this was a good idea?

  “Yeah Briggs, I caught the show,” I say, guilty, searching for redemption in Briggs’ icy blue eyes. “Leo, why don’t you gather up your yard stuff, and I’ll be right with you?”

  What am I going to say to either one of them? Leo senses something’s off, he looks from Briggs to me, and then back to Briggs, curiously. Leo shrugs and walks away slowly, glancing back at us every few steps.

  I walk closer to Briggs, lowering my voice, “Briggs, this is not what you think…” He cuts me off.

  “Come on, look at it,” he says, showing me the picture. “That dude’s sucking your damn finger—the same finger that—”. Briggs runs his hands over his head and rolls his eyes. Finally, he sighs, and says, “Hey, I get it. Don’t even worry about it… it’s cool.” He starts walking away. I stop him.

  “Briggs wait, what? What do you get?” I grab his arm, turning him to face me, questioning him.

  Briggs stops. His eyes softens. He pushes a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, and says, “I get it. You do want to date, you just don’t want to date me.”

  His eyes drop. He pulls his hand away, turns, and leaves. I can’t speak. That is exactly how all this looks to him. I just spent all night screwing the shit out of him and then tell him that I don’t want to date anyone. Then, he sees a picture of me out with another student with my thumb in his mouth, eating ice cream. How else would this look to Briggs?

  Fuck.

  Getting ready to go after him, Leo comes up next to me and says, “What was that all about?” I can’t deal with him too.

  “Nothing really; he’s got something going on with Garrity Advertising,” I lie. I hate lying to Leo, but the last thing he needs is to be embroiled in this mess with Briggs.

  “Man, I’ll tell you what, that guy surprised the Hell out of me,” Leo marvels excitedly. “After that surfing accident, I thought he’d just fuck up his life, never go anywhere,” he explains, shaking his head in disbelief. “But he’s on the fast track now. That ESPN special made him out to be a king.” Leo’s awed by Briggs’ comeback and success. It is inspi
ring. Briggs is an amazing man. He’s so tenacious, so confident, and God, so sexy. Oh shit. What did I do?

  I explain to Leo that I have some things to take care of and that I’ll see him next time he’s over. He’s reluctant to leave, waiting to say something. We both know that we have unfinished business between us. But now, I know maybe that business needs to remain unfinished. I’m not sly or courageous enough to attempt, Hell, to even think about juggling two men at once. I’ll leave that trick to Char.

  Char! She’ll know how to handle this.

  After Leo leaves, I call Char and tell her everything. “Holy Fuck! That’s way too much information to process.” She in full freak out mode on the phone. “Janelle, we need a catch up day, soon. But first, get that hot piece of ass back to your house and make him forgive you.”

  I want to, but I’m not certain what to do. Needing help, I ask, “But what, what can I do?”

  “Do what girls have been doing forever, tease the shit out of him, make him want you. He’ll come back.” She wishes me well and hangs up. I realize that, but how? She was of no help. What can I do or say that will make him come running back, wanting me again? Then it hits me, I know exactly what I have to do.

  WHILE I WAS in New York, Jocelyn, Rick, and Dave, cleared my junk out of my house and stored it in Jasper’s giant storage room. I went to the storage area and sifted through all the boxes, discovering all sorts of things that I needed. Finally, I hit pay dirt, finding exactly what I needed. If this doesn’t work, then nothing is going to get Briggs Alexander back to me, back in my bed where I enjoy every inch of him. I send him a text, inviting him over.

  His response takes a lot longer that I expected.

  BRIGGS: Sorry got plans.

  Damn, I hate that I hurt him, pissed him off. That was never my intention. I’m in over my head; this is unchartered territory for me.

  Alright, if this doesn’t work, then I’ll be the laughingstock of the town, because he’ll have the proof right in the palm of his hands. I slip out of my teal romper, shuck off my strapless bra and thong, and shimmy into the infamous baby costume. Realizing that my hair is still braided, I giggle, knowing that braids are the final touch. I only zip up the costume to the top of my stomach, barely covering my breasts, which are spilling out of the opening. Lying back on my couch, hating myself for stooping to such ridiculous levels, I snap a picture of myself.

  Attaching the picture, I tap out a text.

  JANELLE: Are you sure you can’t stop by for just a few minutes?

  I hit send and wait. A minute goes by, no response. Five minutes goes by, no response. After fifteen minutes, I decide to throw in the towel. I lost. Without a response blowing up my phone, I realize that my baby costume picture is probably all over Facebook and Twitter already—traveling the cyber world through Instagram and Snapchat. I’m going to be one of those people whose life gets ruined due to inappropriate texts, pictures, and sexting. I always warn my freshman girls about it, hoping to get through to them. Now, I’m no better, no wiser than a 14-year-old girl, complete with the pig tail braids and baby costume for proof. At least I didn’t make some dumb sign with my fingers and a ridiculous duck face.

  Rejected, I slink back to my bedroom. Standing in the full-length mirror about to unzip the pajamas, I hear, “Don’t you dare; that’s my job.” I turn around, Briggs is standing in the doorway of my bedroom. I walk over to him, wrap my arms around him and kiss him hungrily. His mouth overtakes mine, ravenously, like neither of us have tasted the other in years. We tightly hold one other, pressing our bodies together as one.

  “Briggs,” with a raspy growl, “we need to talk,” I announce.

  “Now?”

  I nod, leading him back to the living room, away from the bed. I need to talk to him before anything goes any further, before either of us gets hurt. He sits on the couch. I sit in a chair across the room, the ultimate tease, distance between us.

  “I’m sorry about today—wait, let me finish,” I say, shushing him when he starts to interrupt me. “I hate what you saw, what Vince sent you, but there is nothing going on between Leo Cling and me.” I explain. He shifts on the couch; his body language is saying that he doesn’t believe me for one second. “Briggs, look at me. This can’t be about anything other than sex and fun.” I explain, needing him to understand me. “It just can’t be. You have to be on board with the way things are now.”

  “Janelle…” he says, trying to stop me.

  “I’m not kidding around here,” I stand up, pacing the floor. “I don’t know what I’m doing; I’m so messed up right now. I know that I want you, want you so badly, all the time.” He smiles, starting to come toward me. I hold up my hand, stopping him. “But I’m not ready for anything more than that. I can’t handle it.” I hope that he understands.

  “We can take it slow,” he argues, still trying to reach me.

  “No… no slow… just sex and fun,” I plead.

  He grabs my hand, “We can figure this—”

  Walking out of his reach, I argue, “No, I need you to agree to these terms, a purely sexual relationship, no other expectations.” I sound like such a whore, like the roles are reversed. But how can I possibly jump into a relationship with him; my disillusionment papers aren’t even drafted. This is the only way this can work. The only way we can keep doing this.

  Chuckling, he says, “You want me to agree to make love…”

  Cutting him off, I say, “Sex, only sex.”

  “You want me to agree to have sex with you, no strings attached, whenever we both want it?” Laughing, he says, triumphantly, “Did I just win the lottery? Yes, I accept your proposal, gladly accept your proposal.”

  “I mean it Briggs, none of this ‘take me out’ stuff, worrying about other guys, bullshit,” I clarify. “I’m not looking for anything, with anyone—just hot crazy sex with the hottest, sexiest black man I’ve ever seen.” I start walking toward him, stopping just out of his reach.

  “I got it, I got it,” he cheers. “Now, can I please take that ridiculous thing off of you and make my teenage fantasies come true?” Briggs begs.

  Holding on to the zipper and slowly, teasingly, unzipping it slightly, I tempt, “You mean, this costume? You want to unzip it?” He takes a step closer, breathing harder.

  “Garrity, you have no idea what you do to me,” he responds. “There isn’t a woman out there I’ve ever wanted more than you.”

  “Ohhh, Garrity, I like that. Now get over here and show me how much you want me,” I challenge.

  He’s on me in seconds. His hands are all over me, his mouth on mine. I gasp, relishing his taste, his exploration of my body. Taking a step back, his eyes devour my body, preying on every inch of the costume that he dreamed of removing. Anticipating what’s coming, my insides twitch, my stomach flutters. I have the starring role in many of his fantasies, his dirty, forbidden fantasies. That thought makes me hot, incredibly wet. Finally, he reaches up, takes ahold of the top of the zipper, looks into my eyes, and then stares back at the top of the zipper. He licks his lips and raises his brows, exhaling heavily, before he slowly begins unzipping the costume. He groans as each inch of my body comes more into his view. He works the zipper down slowly, enjoying the view, the reality of his fantasy coming true. Finally, he kneels on the floor, taking the zipper all the way down to my ankle.

  I start to slip the pajamas off my shoulders, when he says, “Leave it,” he caresses my leg, running his hands back up my body. “I’d like you to keep it on for a while, please.”

  Breathing hard, I say, “I like your restraint, but let’s not hold out too long this time.” I lean over and whisper in his ear, sticking my tongue in his ear, sucking his earlobe into my mouth. I want him; this whole fantasy fulfillment is turning me on just as much as it is for him. I lift my foot, and place it between his legs, massaging his hard penis with the arch of my foot. He growls, grabbing my foot and pulling me down to him. I sit astride his lap, my breasts exposed and rubbing his c
hest.

  He cups both of my breasts in his hands and massages them, pressing them together, and strumming my rock hard nipples with his thumbs. I rub myself eagerly on his straining penis. This is not the time for prolonged foreplay. Taking a nipple into his mouth, he nibbles it softly. I moan, desire flooding through me.

  Reaching his hand into the bottoms of the costume, he touches the center of my desire. Slipping one finger into me, he grits, “You’re so wet; that’s so hot.” I rock against his fingers; his touch sends currents of pleasure through my entire body. His knuckle presses against my clit, applying pressure, he begins stroking it, quickly and expertly. I gasp, rocking hard against his hand. I want release. I want it now. He slips his pinkie inside of me, gently tickling the edges of the opening, while his knuckle continues to manipulate my hardened nub. Completely aroused and out of control with passion, I grab my breasts, tugging on my own nipples. The look of desire on his face sends me over the edge. I release violently. My body spasms as I grind harder and faster against his hand.

  Briggs moves quickly, switching our positions with him on top. He lifts my foot and removes only one leg of the costume, leaving the rest in place. He pulls off his shirt; I coo with visual and sexual approval, licking my lips with hunger. He slips his running shorts down, and quickly slips a condom over his rigid penis. Crawling slowly up my body, his tongue travels up the exposed flesh.

  Darting his tongue out, mine meets his, sucking both of our tongues into my mouth. His body presses down on mine, my nipples tingle at the sensation of his hard pecs. He lifts my bare leg and holds it up to his mouth, licking my leg from my knee to the ankle, then places it over his shoulder. I whimper, so ready for what is to come.

  Briggs rests his penis at the brink of my opening. He slowly penetrates me, entering slightly until I’m able to take every inch of him in. He pauses, allowing me to adjust to the strain, stretching me, filling me. Slowly, he begins to move. I mirror his movements, rotating my hips with each thrust of his pelvis. He’s so hard, so big; my body molds to his, joining us. We rock together. He grabs my leg and bites on my calve, sucking the flesh into his mouth. He drives deeper into me, thrusting into me. I wrap my other leg around him, pushing him in further.