Schooled 4.0

by Deena Bright

  Putting his hands on either side of my face, he looks me in the eyes and says, “Charlene Rose Palmer, you have got to start believing me. I have never… ever… felt like this for another person in my entire life. In thirty-one years, I have never known anyone who has challenged me and infuriated me like you do… sometimes to the point of not knowing whether I should run for cover or hold on to you forever.”

  Trying to speak, I mumble through the tie, glaring at him and pulling at my wrist restraints. I have things to say, things to protest, and things to rebut.

  Laughing, Jasper continues, “Love that gag… anyway, even more than all that, you have completely mesmerized me. You’ve taken me out of my comfort zone, turned my world upside down, and… and… completely changed me… so, you need to get it through your gorgeous and manic head that I’m in this… I’m in this for as long as you’ll let me.

  “Your biggest worry is that if something goes wrong between you and me that it’ll mess up our whole family dynamic,” he states, understanding my biggest fears. Stroking my cheek with the back of his finger, he adds, “Don’t worry about that Char, I won’t let it.”

  He stops talking; I pull at the restraints on my wrists, wanting so much to respond. Untying my one hand, he takes it in his, and says, “Suppose something does come between us and we don’t end up working out—which I seriously doubt is going to happen—if we never tell anyone like we’ve been doing, then nobody will know that they should be walking about on eggshells around us. I promise you here and now that I will never do anything that will jeopardize your place in our family, because Char, you are part of our family. You have been for nine years now.”

  Feeling my resolve waning, I attempt to smile in acquiescence. Jasper kisses my hand and places it on his chest. “Before I take that gag off, I have to say one more thing. I’m just going to hold this a little tighter, so you don’t punch me.” Holding my hand against his heart, I feel the rapid beat, pounding against his chest. “Char, I need you to believe me, because I am so fucking in love with you, so in love… and I have been for a very very long time, and I will do anything to make this work.”

  Well fuck a hairy, unexpected cat. Didn’t see that coming. Wanted that, but seriously never saw it coming.

  Reaching around my head, he unties the gag and sits back, apparently waiting for my rebuttal. “Well that would make this very incestuous,” I reply, kissing him, devouring his words and his sentiment, swallowing them into my very being. I feel his hand reach for the other restraint, freeing my other hand. Wrapping my arms around him, scooting up onto his lap, I continue to kiss him, making up for the last week, the last nine years, and for my entire life of kissing everyone who wasn’t the one.

  Pulling back, he places his forehead against mine, “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

  “For now, that’s all I’m going to say,” I admit, nodding. “But I do want to give you this… I never actually got around to it on Christmas Eve.” Reaching into my coat pocket, I pull out a small gift-wrapped box.

  Placing the small box into his hand, I close his hand around it, squeezing it tightly. “Thank you, Char,” he says, before opening his hand. Unwrapping the box, his eyes are transfixed on mine; he never once looks down at the gift—only at me.

  Finally glancing down, he opens the velvet box and laughs, shaking his head. “Great minds, eh? Where did you find these?”

  “Some website,” I said, shrugging. “It was pretty tough.” Jasper takes the small gold cuff links out of the box. “I can’t believe you found little flames of fire cuff links.”

  “The small diamonds are the ice,” I explain, smiling nervously.

  “How about we stop denying this?” he says, pulling me onto his lap. His hand slides up my thigh under my coat. “Shit Char, you’re not wearing any underwear.”

  “I’m not wearing anything,” I admit, thanking Meatloaf and the God of sex and drums and rock and roll.

  Standing on his bed, I untie the belt of my coat and open it, revealing my newest endeavor. “I can’t believe I’ve been here over an hour and you never once offered to take my coat. Where are your manners, sir?”

  “I can’t believe you… you… you…” he stammers, staring at me.

  “Had a spa day? Yeah, surprise,” I smile, wiggling my hips. “It’s all yours, smooth, soft, and ready.”

  “Did it hurt?” he asks, feeling the silky smooth after effects of my Brazilian wax.

  “Ya know how it sort of hurts when you rip a Band-aid off?” I ask. He nods, still staring at me in awe. “Multiply that by fifty-fucking-four. That’s how bad it hurt.”

  “I’m sorry, baby. How can I repay you?” he asks, putting his cuff links on the nightstand and tearing off his shirt.

  “Homage, pay this bitch homage,” I reply, pointing between my legs. “Show me how much you appreciate me.”

  “My pleasure,” he groans, “and yours.”

  I SUPPOSE THINGS didn’t go too terribly awry. I would’ve liked for Char to profess her undying love to me as well, but it’s fine. It’s cool being the douche bag who says it and doesn’t hear it back. I mean, it’s never happened to me before, because I’ve never told a woman that I loved her before. But, I can handle this. I’ll just wait it out. Sooner or later, she’s bound to realize that we have something real here.

  There is one more problem with how things went last night. I wanted to end her “I never.” I wanted all of those words to wash over her, penetrate her until she finally felt the joy of crying happy tears. I even thought I had her, but nada. I wanted to be the one to show her how good crying for joy felt. I still do. I will. I have to. I have to be the one that gives her that feeling.

  I’ve been lying awake staring at her for the past two hours. I used to nearly gag in movies when the “after shot” was of some dude watching his chick sleep. I always thought, “Never happens.” I was wrong. It happens. I do it every time she stays over—without fail. Char’s stunningly gorgeous, but there is something about her that softens when she sleeps. I can’t get enough of it.

  When she starts stirring, I stroke her hair, an action that typically puts her back to sleep. I’m not sure if she knows it or not, but she slept through the entire night. I held her and felt her sleep soundly against me for the whole duration of the night.

  Stroking my chest, she rubs her cheek against it and smiles. “Happy New Year,” she whispers, her eyes still closed. “I have to say, it’s the first time I’ve ever woken up on New Year’s Day not hung over and full of regret.”

  “Happy New Year, babe,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “Did you sleep well?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

  “How could I not? I slept all night, without ever waking up, in the arms of the man I’m in love with,” she says, finally opening her eyes and looking up at me.

  “Char, are you… what’re you saying?”

  “I’m saying what I came over here to tell you last night, but you fucking gagged me, so I couldn’t really have my moment after you stole all my lovey-dovey romantic thunder… then you paid your respects to my bald beaver and finally took my virgin asshole… so then talking was just the last thing on my mind after that,” she says, crawling up on top of me.

  “You really have a way with words, ya know that?’ I say, smiling and shaking my head.

  “So I’ve been told,” she laughs. “And thanks for fulfilling that little back door fantasy for me.”

  “No… no… thank you. By the way, I’m surprised, it took us two months to get—”

  “Ewww… don’t talk about it,” Char says, scrunching up her nose.

  “Ewww? Did Charlene Palmer just find something offensive and gross? It’s a New Year’s miracle. This year is going to be full of exciting surprises and firsts,” I joke, hugging her.

  “You bet it is,” Char agrees, smiling broadly.

  Just then, there’s a knock at the bedroom door, startling us both. “Who the fuck has a key to your house?” sh
e asks, looking around, frantically.

  “Uhhh, just Joz and Janelle,” I say, feeling a sense of dread. Char immediately grabs her coat and runs into the bathroom. Pulling on my flannel pants, I cross the room and open the bedroom door.

  Jocelyn walks in and yells, “It’s alright Char. It’s only me; come on out.”

  Hugging me, she says, “Happy New Year little brother… looks like it started off well.” When Char emerges from the bathroom, she looks like a child whose hand was caught in the cookie jar.

  Joz hugs her tightly and says, “Happy New Year, Char. But seriously, if you guys are going to continue this sneaking around business, you better start parking in the garage. Lucky for you, Marcus and Nelle are still in Cleveland. They stayed at some hotel after Peter apparently got ditched at dinner and drove home. Know anything about that?”

  “Nope, she doesn’t know a thing,” I say, wrapping my arms around Char, pulling her back against me. Watching the surprise turn to glee in Joz’s reaction, I say a quick prayer and hope it’s this easy with Janelle.

  “Why’re you wearing a coat?” she asks, looking around. “Are you leaving already?”

  “Ummm… I…”

  “Oh Jesus, you don’t have anything underneath it. Alright, I’m out. I just came by to drop off some pork and sauerkraut. Make sure you eat it. It’s good luck for the New Year,” she calls, walking out. “I made enough for two.”

  Enough for two?

  I like the sound of that.

  I want everything from here on out to be for two.

  Table for two.

  Room for two.

  Enough for two.

  A woman really can turn a guy into a full-flown pussy. It’s amazing there are any men out there anymore. It’s shocking that the world isn’t covered with pussified guys walking the Earth like love-struck zombie imbeciles with armfuls of flowers and boxes of chocolates. It’s embarrassing, but I’ll be honest, I like the way this feels. I finally get what all those damn country singers are singing about. It makes you do crazy ass stuff, stuff that you’d never dream you’d be doing, like hiding your relationship from your kid sister. It sure is strange the hold it has on you. Love scoops you up, shakes you all around, and dumps you out a completely different person. It changes you, from top to bottom and from the inside out.

  June

  (Six months later)

  (Six glorious, sex-filled, romantically-induced months later)

  (Six lying, hiding, sneaking around months later)

  “ALRIGHT, IF YOU could have one wish that hasn’t come true yet in your life, what would it be?” I ask, lying next to Jasper on the double raft in his pool.

  Have I mentioned how fucking wonderful it is to have a boyfriend with a pool? Yes, I said boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Get over it. We’ve been going strong now for five months, five perfect months. Actually, Jasper says it’s been seven months; he counts from when we first started fucking like rabbits. Yeah, I still haven’t cleaned up my mouth, but I promised him I would if he’d get some ink somewhere on his body. I’m holding him to it. There is nothing sexier than a professional businessman hiding a dangerous, badass tatt. I guess it’s the same thing as a woman wearing naughty lingerie under a prim and proper dress or business suit. It’s just hot.

  Anyway, we wouldn’t have been able to pull off “operation sneaking around” without Jocelyn and Rick behind us. They’ve bailed us out of some sticky situations. Like for Valentine’s Day, Jocelyn told Janelle that I was watching the girls overnight while she and Rick went to some romantic bed and breakfast. She explained that she didn’t want to ask Janelle and Marcus, because they were technically still newlyweds and should still be spending the day as lovers. Then, Jasper was supposedly taking Dom and Donovan to Columbus overnight to watch the Ohio State basketball game on Friday and a hockey game on Saturday.

  In reality, we drove all four kids to Columbus, met up with Rick’s parents, dropped the kids there, and Jasper and I spent the weekend in Columbus. Granted, Jasper did have to buy the boys and Rick’s dad both sets of sporting event tickets. Basically, Jasper had to buy D & D’s silence, but it was worth it. We went to a spa and got a couple’s massage, ate at some upscale steakhouse, and spent the rest of the weekend in bed.

  It was the best Valentine’s Day I have ever had. Actually, it was the only Valentine’s Day I ever celebrated—with a man. For the last four years, I have organized a “Love Yourself” party at some bar and invited all of my single friends to celebrate and drink the night away. I gave away “Love Yourself” gift baskets to all my single friends, complete with vibrators, dildos, Starbucks gift cards, and Hershey kisses. What better way is there to “Love Yourself?” Even last year, when I was dating Blaine, I didn’t spend Valentine’s Day with him. Our relationship was purely sexual and social—never emotionally intimate and connected.

  However, lately, the guest list and attendees at my party keep dwindling as people keep pairing off and getting married. Truthfully, I preferred spending the weekend naked with Jasper instead of at my anti-love chug fest.

  For the most part, it’s been pretty easy keeping our relationship on the down low. We pretty much just like to do things alone, enjoy each other, and spend time together. Janelle’s been busy with work. She was teaching some evening college class as an adjunct professor. Apparently, last semester, she didn’t get to see much of Marcus, because he’d been working so much. The angel that he is has been working more hours to make some extra money for whenever they get pregnant. We all called “bullshit” on that. The dude’s a salaried employee. They don’t get overtime. God, he’s an ass.

  Actually, Jocelyn did call “bullshit” and said so right to Nelle’s face. Janelle didn’t talk to her the whole month of April. After the way Janelle reacted to Joz, I realized that we were right in waiting to tell her about everything. It’s better that Janelle’s head is clear and not muddled with school, work, and all kinds of other things when she finds out. She just finished teaching her college class in May and now is finally done with school for the summer, which means we’re going to come clean about everything: our relationship, Marcus’ infidelity, his vasectomy, and Jasper’s pool house. That will give her a full three months to mourn and begin to recover from all of it before she has to go back to work in the beginning of September. It’s really a win-win for everyone involved. (Shhh, that’s what I’m telling myself.)

  Honestly, I think I’m going to miss the espionage. It’s been fun being mysterious and secretive. In a way, I can kind of understand the pull and intrigue of an affair. Don’t get me wrong, Marcus is a mother-fucking bastard and should be castrated. However, I see the lure in the forbidden, the hiding. It does make things more exciting. But then again, I haven’t really gotten to try the out and open yet, either. Jasper’s my first official boyfriend and so far, I’ve kept him pretty closeted.

  People might think it’s bizarre that I’m 29-years-old, a month away from being 30, and I’ve never had a boyfriend. The truth is, with my past and trust issues, I never really saw the point in letting someone get that close to me—unless I could see him working himself right into my heart and setting up camp right there in the middle of it. Let’s just say that Jasper “Jamestowned that bloody, beating organ.” He staked his claim and settled right in, taking over like he’s owned it his entire life. I don’t know, maybe he always has.

  “Like a real wish or a wish-wish?” Jasper asks, thoughtfully. He always has to clarify and determine all the rules to whatever game we’re playing. He’s so meticulous about shit like that.

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Well sure, my wish-wish would be that I could fart cash whenever I needed it and never had to work again,” Jasper explains, like it’s the most normal wish in the world.

  “Ummm, you want to fart money?” I ask, thinking that he’d pick something a little more “Jasper-esque.”

  “And you don’t?” he challenges. “Say you’re at the mall, and you tr
y on an outfit. It looks hot—like off the charts hot. But, it’s too pricy. You wouldn’t want to bed over and just rip one, filling the dressing room with cash?”

  “You are foul. When did you get so guy-ey?” I ask, grimacing. “And anyway, why would I have to do that? I could just take your wallet. It’s not much different,” I say, pulling my sunglasses down over my eyes.

  “Ha ha, very funny,” Jasper pouts, kicking water on me and rocking the raft.

  “If I have to straighten my hair again, I will kill you,” I threaten.

  “You’re the one who got ready for an hour… to float on a raft,” he remarks, splashing me again.

  “You said, ‘Get ready. We’re going to do something fun.’ I got ready,” I challenge. “I didn’t know this was your idea of fun.”

  “First of all, we could be at that marathon my company sponsored. You should be thanking me for getting us out of it,” he states.

  “Getting you out of it. There was no way I was running in some dumb race,” I say.

  “Jesus, we sound like an old married couple,” Jasper states, chuckling.

  “We pretty much are,” I agree.

  “I guess that would be my real wish,” he admits, running his foot up my leg.

  “Excuse me?” I ask, lifting my shades to see him clearly.

  “Yeah, I wish we could fast-forward to just being that old married couple, and skip the whole rigmarole with Janelle, the proposal, the engagement, and all that wedding planning crap,” Jasper states nonchalantly, like he just ordered his dinner at a restaurant.

  “Uhhh Jasper, is there something that you’re trying to say here?”

  “Just the same thing I always say before you get all weird and panicky and start doing that breathing and fanning your face—”

  “I do not—”

  “Every time I bring it up, Char… every single time,” he says. “One of these days, I’m just going to slip the ring on your finger, throw you over my shoulder, and take you to the J.O.P., kicking and screaming.”