Schooled 4.0

by Deena Bright

  I mean, who wouldn’t want to be paraded around town on the arm of one of them? Who wouldn’t want to be publicly seen with Briggs Alexander, displayed openly with Leo Cling? Ummm, the answer was nobody. Everyone would die to be in my shoes.

  Well, not at this particular time, the shoes I had on were Jocelyn’s old black pumps. Char had my good pair, and I couldn’t get ahold of her last night to get them back. She was the worst “borrower.” I mean, do you have any idea how many times she’s borrowed my clothes, shoes, purses, whatever, and not given them back? Countless. I tell you; it’s frustrating. People who borrow stuff should always—

  Focus Janelle. Bring it back. Anyway, so, fuck yeah, this was definitely the picture I wanted to be painting. Screw the rest of the people who couldn’t even get themselves a paintbrush to create such a masterpiece. I was working with acrylics and pastels, while all those naysaying assholes were dabbling in finger paint. Screw you jealous bitches. I had my job. I was in the clear, and now I had two gorgeous guys to help cure my woes. Booyah!

  As I got out of the car, both of them walked over to me, looking impatiently at me for answers. “Leo,” I asked, “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “I am. Sort of. I need to pick up a client at the airport. I have a few hours to kill before his flight gets in,” he said before walking closer to me and kissing me on the cheek. “I have to take him to dinner tonight, so I get a few hours off this afternoon. So tell us, what happened.”

  After relaying the story to them, I felt better. Sometimes just hearing the story, even when you’re the one telling it, puts things in a better perspective. Talking, the cure all. Couldn’t get enough of it.

  “I can’t believe he said that shit about painting yourself. What a douche! I bet he wouldn’t want the world to know what he does behind closed doors either,” Briggs said.

  Briggs continued, while Leo stood patiently listening to his tirade. “Don’t you worry about what you look like to those judgmental assholes. You shouldn’t give a flying fuck what those people think,” he said, hugging me quickly. “I’m glad that they’re not going to publicly crucify you. I’m getting pretty used to you being around, Babe.” Then, before he let me go, he turned to Leo and said, “The letters worked. Nice job, Cling.”

  Leo shook his head slightly and looked away. “What does that mean?” I asked. “Why ‘Nice job, Cling?’ Why would you say that?”

  “He’s been sending messages to people, calling people, and stuff like that about how they should write to Baker, telling him that you’re a good teacher, good role model, all that shit,” Briggs admitted. “And totally true shit… Hell, my dad even wrote one for you.”

  “It’s no big deal… really… I just told a few people that it would probably help,” Leo confessed, looking away.

  “And they told people, and they told people,” Briggs said, rubbing my back.

  “You did that for me?” I asked, walking toward him, needing to see his eyes. I was torn. I’ll admit; I kind of liked when I believed that the community had stepped up to the plate to back me all at their own fruition. I liked that the parents of my district chose to fight for me. It was flattering, ego-boosting, and validating.

  However, just knowing that Leo would go to so much trouble to help me was incredibly heartwarming and let’s be honest, panty-wetting. I mean let’s face it. People don’t usually go out of their way to help others; it was wonderful. And, it was still flattering that they actually did it—even though they didn’t think of it on their own. Leo was like a knight in shining armor, always coming to my rescue.

  “Of course, I’d do that for you. I’d do anything for you,” he said, tossing the football up and catching it. Staring at him, he amazed me in so many ways. Leo was so smart, so sensitive, and so selfless. Plus, I couldn’t believe that he could pass and catch a football. I wasn’t sure why I was so shocked that he could actually catch a ball. He wasn’t some uncoordinated loser, but I was shocked all the same.

  “Babe, I’m going to get going… It’s not my day,” Briggs said, as he grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll see you Wednesday though.”

  Briggs was being so respectful and reserved. I loved it, but part of me missed the barbaric fighting between the two of them. It made everything so animalistic and downright sexy. Truthfully, it was nice to feel wanted, really wanted. Leo and Briggs certainly made me feel desired and sexy, feelings I’d been denied for a long time. I wasn’t sure how all of this was going to pan out, what the end result would be. But I did know one thing: I would never settle again for being someone’s second choice. Hell, I was Marcus’ fifth choice if we’re really counting. It was so refreshing being someone’s priority, someone’s round one first draft pick.

  “Okay, I’ll see you Wednesday. What time?”

  “I’ll pick you up around 3:00. Sound good?” he asked.

  “Per-fucked,” I said. They both shook their heads at me. It was going to catch on. I just knew it.

  “If I don’t see you, Happy Birthday Alexander,” Leo said, thumping him on the back.

  “Birthday? When?” I asked. And Leo knew about it, and I didn’t? Briggs just nodded and shrugged. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me it was your birthday!” I whined.

  “No big deal. I’m just glad to get to spend my birthday with you,” he said. “It makes me so much luckier.”

  “Yeah, he fought like Hell to have you on his birthday,” Leo admitted. “Kept saying ‘Dude, 7/11, lucky 7/11.’ Man, I’m not going to lie. I kind of wanted to punch him.”

  “Good thing you didn’t. I’d have flattened you, Cling,” Briggs said.

  “Only on your birthday, Bro,” Leo said, laughing.

  “Whatever. See you guys. Have fun,” he said, walking to his car.

  Did he just say, “have fun?” What was going on? They’d never gotten along that well. What in the world was that all about? Granted, it was nice that they weren’t at each other’s throats, but it seemed like I was witnessing a budding new bromance. Maybe, my ultimate fantasy could come true. We could all live together, nakedly, on a deserted island, catering to each other’s every whim and wish. We’d spend the days frolicking in the waves, lying in the sand, and eating fresh fish and berries from the island. The nights, we’d spend in each other’s arms, enjoying our inherent sexuality, not worrying about judgmental people or feelings of jealousy. We’d be happy—all of us—together. That would be the ultimate utopia. That, and if we were spies, too. Now, it was the per-fucked fantasy.

  “Want to go in?” Leo asked, tugging on my arm, eyeing me playfully.

  “More than you can even begin to imagine,” I replied.

  “Oh, I can imagine. I can certainly imagine,” Leo said, as he picked me up, cradling me back to the pool house.

  Leo didn’t put me down when we entered the pool house. He carried me straight back to my bedroom, laying me back on the bed. Kissing me, he said, “Wait here,” and walked back and closed the door to the pool house and then to my bedroom. When he got into my bedroom, he took off his suit, slowly and sexily, leaving only his boxer briefs on.

  “Leo honey, what’s your rush?” I asked.

  “I’ve got to pick up a client and take him to dinner,” he complained. “I really don’t have a lot of time. It’s actually not my day either. Today and tomorrow are your scheduled ‘days off.’ I’m surprised Briggs didn’t fight me on staying,” he stated. Leo was right. I wasn’t technically supposed to see him until Thursday. Briggs wasn’t fazed at all by Leo staying. What in God’s name was that all about?

  “Alright, speedy, what do you have in mind, then?” I asked, teasingly.

  “Well, I was going to start with this,” he said, kissing my neck. “And maybe, a little of this,” he said, covering my chest in light pecks.

  “That is a great start,” I said, enjoying his little game. “What would you do after that?”

  “I’d unbutton these,” he admitted, as he began to unbutton my shirt, slowly. “Th
en, I’d open it up, like this,” he said, exposing my bra.

  Leo’s game went on pretty much like until I’d experienced two incredible orgasms, leaving me breathless and pleased. Feeling guilty and selfish, I kissed his chest, licking a slow tantalizing trail down his stomach. As I reached for the waistband of his boxers, he put his hand on mine, and said, “Doll, I hate this, but I’ve got to leave. Getting to the airport is going to be Hell at this time of day. I better get going now.”

  Smiling at him, and not wanting to be diverted, I winked and said, “Give me three minutes, this won’t take long.”

  I reached for his underwear again, and he said, “I’m sorry, but I really do have to go.” He sat up, and kissed me on my forehead. “I promise, next time, I won’t have to go. You can spend all night in my arms.”

  When he got up and grabbed his shirt and tie, I was speechless. Leo was bailing on me again. I knew he had to pick up a client, but everyone had a few minutes to spare, especially when they were going to be a few wonderfully climatic minutes.

  “Leo, what’s going on?” I asked, pulling my blankets up over my chest, feeling hurt and too exposed.

  “Going on with what?” he asked, feigning innocence, unconvincingly.

  “Start talking, Leo,” I commanded. “Last week, out in the pool, you didn’t have time. You needed to get home to Megan. I got that. Made perfect sense.” He pulled on his pants and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking away from me. “Then, the other day at your house… houses… you wouldn’t let me touch you at all. You said, ‘it’s all about you, Janelle.’ I liked that. It was flattering,” I admitted. I crawled over to face him, forcing him to look at me. “But today, this doesn’t make sense. You’re… You’re avoiding me. Evading me and my advances,” I accused. “Why?”

  “I’m not. I have to… I’m just—”

  “No lies, Leo. Be honest,” I said, pleading with him.

  “Janelle, I’m sorry. I just can’t do it,” he admitted, running his hands through his hair, looking away.

  “Can’t do what? Can’t get it—”

  “No… no… not that. It’s extremely functional,” he said.

  “I know that. I felt that,” I said. “So what’s the deal?”

  “I waited a long time Janelle… a long time to have sex. I wanted it to be special, mean something,” he said, grabbing my hand. “And it did. It so did.”

  “Okay… so?” I wanted him to give me every last thought in his head, not hold anything back.

  “I want to be with you. I mean really with you. If a little fooling around is all I get, then that’s fine for now,” he explained. Turning toward me, pulling me closer to him, he said, “I love pleasing you. Making you happy. When we’re together, it’s perfect—everything I’ve ever dreamed about.”

  “But?” I knew there was a “but.” Typically, people didn’t monologue-compliment someone unless some giant Sir Mix-a-Lot “but” was coming.

  “But… (see, told you)… I can’t make love to you, share that intimacy with you, if I know that you’re going to be sharing that with him tomorrow… or Wednesday… or any day for that matter. I can’t play like that.”

  “Leo, but you knew—”

  “I knew what he was going to do… what you were going to do with him, but I also know that I can’t be a part of that,” he confessed. Standing up and grabbing his tie, “I agreed to the contract, because… because… I could get a few more weeks with you. But I also knew the morning I saw Briggs at your house… I knew that I wasn’t having sex with you again… until you were mine. Completely and totally mine—I won’t share you like that.”

  “But that was before you even signed the contract. That doesn’t make sense. How is what we did here… what we did at your house… in the pool… any different?” I asked, needing to get to the bottom of this, the heart of everything he was saying.

  “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 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 ado
rable.

  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—”