by Heidi Lowe
“I’d like to see her asshole,” one boy whispered to his friend, not quietly enough to spare me the crass comment.
His friend laughed. “She’s so fucking hot. I’d bone that all day. I bet she gives great head. Look at those lips.”
“My friend Johnny, this guy he knew said he met her at another talk, that she asked him to stay behind, and she sucked him off. He came harder than he ever had in his life!”
My blood reached a thousand degrees. I turned and glared at the vulgar bastards, made sure they saw me, which promptly shut them up. But the damage had already been done. All I could think about was the faceless douche who’d allegedly been given the Algebra treatment. I wanted desperately to believe it wasn’t true, that she would never do such a thing. And what right did I have to be so furious? She wasn’t my wife; that was Carl Mirchoff’s problem.
I contemplated walking out, letting her see me leave, but I remained seated until the end of the talk.
Thundering applause followed her closing statement, then a horde of smitten, adoring people rushed forward to shake her hand or heap praise and adulation on her. I hung back, swallowing down my bitterness, trying not to see her as someone who would do what those sleazebags had suggested.
You’re here for the money, Erica, nothing more. It’s none of your business what she gets up to when she’s not sleeping with you. Yeah, right! Rational thought wasn’t my strong suit.
Slowly but surely everyone made their way out of the auditorium. Ten whole minutes later, the last few stragglers filed out. They shot me a bemused look, as though questioning why I was still there.
I waited until the door shut before I made my way down the steps to the front of the room. She looked up, removed her glasses slowly, set them on the desk.
“I hope you have a good explanation for your lateness, Miss Frost. Third time this week.”
She was already in character. That always threw me in the beginning.
“I’m sorry, I was working late last night, overslept.”
She crossed her arms. “This lax attitude to my class is unacceptable. There are hundreds of students who would kill to be here. They would get here on time. I don’t think you’re serious about your studies. I think it’s time I removed you from the course.”
“No, please don’t do that,” I said, grabbing her wrist. “I can’t get kicked off this course. My parents would kill me.”
“How are you going to make this right, Miss Frost?” Her eyes sparkled with naughty intent.
“I...I don’t know.”
She prowled closer to me, drew a finger along my chest, circled my breast with it, then my nipple, which hardened instantly beneath the fabric of my T-shirt.
I played it apprehensive. “W–what are you doing?”
“I don’t believe that you’re serious about this class.” She untucked my T-shirt and lifted it off.
“I am. I want to graduate. I really do.”
“Prove it.” And with that she shoved me onto the desk, started unbuttoning my jeans before pulling them right off.
“What if someone comes in?” I questioned, but was hushed by her lips smashing to mine. Our tongues battled aggressively as her hands massaged my breasts. The thought that we would get caught thrilled me. Who better to watch me being fucked by dream lady than the two douchebags from the class?
Eventually she worked my breasts from their cups, brought her mouth to them and assaulted my nipples with her tongue. I leaned back on one hand, while the other was pressed to her head.
“I’ve wanted to do this to you for so long,” she said, pushing my thongs aside, exposing my sex. “Every time you walk into my class late, I think of all the ways to punish you for it. This seems like the only way.”
She drove her fingers inside me, and pounded with reckless abandon, while the desk jerked and creaked beneath me. She wet a finger on her free hand, smoothed it over my nipples. We never broke eye contact, which only added to the intensity of the act.
We kissed and kissed while she drove herself deeper, hitting my spot over and over, expertly. I always came hard with Algebra; and this time especially, I knew it would be the mother of all orgasms. Because, as though the universe had blessed me, she’d practically taken on the role for which she’d been given her nickname: she could have been my Algebra teacher.
Stifling my moans was only possible for a short time. The harder she plowed, the louder I became.
“Can I come now?” I pleaded, now terrified that someone would hear me and discover us, but mostly because I was exhausted.
“Okay, baby,” she breathed against my lips. She upped the pressure on her thrusts, increased the speed, until I came undone.
The room always seemed to spin following a g-spot orgasm. It took me a good while to regain consciousness, recover from it, for my body to regain some of its strength.
She gave me a slow kiss, her fingers still buried inside my cavern.
“That’s how I like my students. Willing to do whatever it takes to make me happy.”
Eventually, regrettably, she removed her fingers from my sex, before licking off the residue, and looking delighted to taste me.
“I miss that taste,” she said. Now we were us again. She handed me my pants. “Nine months later and I still miss it. I’m an addict.”
I got dressed while she packed up her desk.
“I had no idea you taught classes,” I said.
“I don’t. I’m a guest speaker every now and then. I think the only reason why they keep asking me back is because I’m cheaper than most entrepreneurs.” She chuckled.
I noticed the book on her desk — it had her name and face on it. I picked it up. “How to Get Whatever You Want and Keep It. Janette Dandridge. Dandridge?”
“Maiden name.”
“The New York Times Bestseller from the self-made millionaire and author of Making Money Grow on Trees.” I couldn’t believe what I was reading. “You’re self-made?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not just a pretty face.” She kissed me upon seeing my confusion. “I was already wealthy when I married my husband. I became a millionaire by twenty-four. I take it you’ve never googled me?”
“I didn’t think I needed to. Wow, that’s...wow.”
She laughed. “You ready?” She put her purse on her shoulder. “The driver’s waiting outside.”
I frowned. “Me too?”
“Erica, when do we ever screw just once? We’re going back to my suite at the Fairview. Unless you have somewhere else to be?”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “My body is all yours.”
Patchouli oil wafted in the air as I worked my fingers into the soft flesh of her back, her shoulders, and cheekily and periodically stole a little touch of the side of her breasts.
“You’re really tense around here,” I said, massaging her shoulders and receiving blissful moans for my work. I had no idea if it was true, it just sounded like the type of thing people said in these situations. I wasn’t exactly an expert at giving hot, naked women back massages.
She chuckled tiredly. “I work too much. Even in Morocco, when I was supposed to be on vacation, I managed to get roped into doing two seminars.”
I kissed my way up her back, to the nape of her neck. We’d already had sex once since getting to the suite, but if I knew Algebra, she had more in store for me. She truly got her money’s worth.
“You should take more time off. I dunno, spend it with your favorite escort...”
She laughed, and before I knew it, she’d flipped me over and taken top position. Our naked flesh meshed as she pinned my arms to the bed, maneuvering herself between my legs, and kissed me. I wrapped my legs around her waist.
“Oh, I see, now that you know I’m worth something, you’re trying to get me to spend all my money on you.”
“You’re not the only businesswoman here,” I said.
“Didn’t I already tell you I’m addicted? I would be bankrupt within a year!”
/> We kissed and kissed, and I almost told her I would waive my fee entirely. What the hell kind of businesswoman was I? I needed to stop thinking with my vagina. No, eye on the prize, Erica. She’s a goddess, sure, but she isn’t the prize; she isn’t endgame.
Her words did get me thinking, though.
“I bet you said that to Katja too...” This was my fishing expedition, prying to see if she’d spent any time with the new girl.
“You’ve met her?” she said, surprised. “What did you think?”
“What did you think?”
She laughed and kissed me. “Are you trying to get me to say who I like best?”
It wasn’t so long ago that they’d all done the same to me. At the beach house. She was getting a taste of her own medicine.
“You win hands down, baby. Don’t worry,” she said.
I gave her a self-satisfied grin. “Glad to hear it. I wish your friends were of the same opinion. It’s like I don’t exist anymore.”
“No one’s hired you?”
I shook my head. As much as I hated whining about not getting my own way, my every waking thought was plagued with the realization that I needed their money. This wasn’t just about my pride.
“I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before they do. They adore you, as do I.”
I kissed her because those were words I needed to hear. Positive reinforcement coming off three weeks of feeling utterly neglected.
“I can’t afford to wait for that. I have a website now...”
Intrigued. “What kind of website?”
“Just somewhere to attract new business. It isn’t live yet. My best friend is still working on it.”
“So you’re going pro?”
When she said it like that it made the whole thing real. Pro...a professional escort. A professional prostitute. However you spun it, it didn’t paint a great picture.
“I guess so. Do you know any undersexed women who might benefit from my company?”
She smiled. “I would say any married woman over the age of thirty could benefit from your company, Erica. — If you really want more clients, I can put the feelers out.”
Want was only half the thing driving me. An empty bank account was the other. I would be lying if I said the thought of new women having their wicked way with me didn’t turn me on, though.
“You keep coming to my rescue,” I said, drawing her into a kiss. First with my father's legal problem, now by helping me expand my clientele. That crap I heard about her in the auditorium seemed irrelevant now.
While our lips were intertwined, she began grinding her sex into mine, and didn’t stop until I expired completely.
We fell asleep shortly after, and when I woke up and got dressed, I was seven hundred bucks richer, my body destroyed from three orgasms in as many hours.
SIX
My mom was helping my dad with his tie when I woke up and entered the kitchen.
“Morning,” I said, rubbing sleep from my eyes and yawning big.
“It’s almost noon,” my mother simply had to point out. Then to my dad, “You could have said no. You’ve worked every day this week.”
“What can I do, love? They need cover.”
I noticed the little store-bought birthday cake on the table, with the number 44 written on it in blue icing, around which sat blue and white marzipan flowers. Crap! I’d forgotten my mom’s birthday. I almost never forgot important dates like that. Not because I had exceptional memory, but because my mother held grudges. If you forgot her birthday, you would never hear the end of it. She’d take any opportunity to bring it up, make you feel bad about it.
“Mom, can you pass me the salt?”
“Maybe I’m incapable of doing that, just like you were incapable of remembering my birthday.”
Or, “Mom, have you seen my car keys?”
“Maybe they’re in the same place you put my birthday card...”
Seriously, that was how she was. No one held grudges like my mom.
“Happy birthday,” I said quickly.
“Thank you. But there’s nothing happy about it. Dad’s got to work.”
Tie done, he kissed her on her forehead, apologized, ruffled my already scruffy hair, then left.
Mom slumped onto a chair, pushed her birthday cake away miserably. “We’ve spent every birthday together since we got married.”
I never knew what the big deal was with that. Past a certain age, it hardly mattered. Who wanted to celebrate getting older? But it was their thing, and I guess it was kinda sweet.
Seeing her so down in the dumps gave me an idea. I jumped out of my seat, suddenly full of life. “What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?”
She frowned. “I have nothing planned.”
“Great, you’re coming with me.”
“Where to?”
“To be pampered.”
All Well Spa in downtown Chicago buzzed with life, laughter and Korean and English dialogue. A sumptuous, extravagantly presented store known for its chilled atmosphere, bottomless, alcohol free punch, and heated gossip, it came with a steep price tag. Which was why it had taken me so long to visit the place. My mom had been twice and loved it.
Today was no different.
“...and it turns out he was sleeping in the garage the whole time, can you believe it?”
“...so I told her straight, if you’re going to marry for money, at least do it with a guy who actually has some!”
“...I won’t be hiding a corpse in my freezer this time, that’s for sure.”
It had been a long time since I’d seen my mother this relaxed, this happy. As we lounged in soft leather armchairs, vanilla-scented candles burning nearby, our feet were soaking in foot spas while two Korean nail technicians worked on our hands. We sipped punch and eavesdropped on the outrageous conversations of the other customers. Pure bliss.
Then my mom turned to me. “This is actually nice.”
I laughed. “Actually? Glad to know you had such low expectations.”
We never did stuff like this, certainly not together. Oddly enough, although I’d inherited many of her features, we had very little in common. I took after my dad in almost everything but looks. My mom and I clashed often, disagreed on most things. But being pampered was something we could both agree on.
“How are you affording this?” she asked, just as I knew she would.
“The money I made babysitting. The parents are, like, millionaires or something,” I explained, having rehearsed my answer. “Plus I just got my first payment for the Internet stuff.”
The babysitting story was mine; Jo had come up with an additional one that would explain away my days. Virtual assistant to an online business. It was the perfect front that, together with the babysitting, accounted for the money and my late night outings.
A hint of skepticism swept over her face, but she didn’t grill me, to my relief. She probably thought it wise not to bite the hand that was paying for her manicure.
“Didn’t you want any of these?” she said, waving her finished hand, showing off her new, fiery red nails.
“No. They’re impractical,” I said, and didn’t elaborate. She didn’t need the details of why I had to keep mine short, and she wasn’t imaginative enough to figure it out herself. I’d opted for a simple filing and varnish, nothing too fancy.
One of the workers came by and took my cup from me without asking, topped it up, then handed it back. My third since arriving.
Just as I thanked her and went to take a sip, the door opened and two women walked in. Sunglasses, summer hats, and expensive bags. The one in front, the blonde, removed her glasses, and I choked on my punch.
“Are you all right?” my mom asked, slapping my back, not helping at all.
I turned away quickly, but not quickly enough to go unnoticed by Teetotal.
“Wrong hole,” I said to my mom.
“You’ve gone all red,” she said, looking concerned.
“I’m fine.”
I was far from fine! My personal life and work life were never supposed to overlap. That was how things got messy, how people got caught. My mother in the same room as one of my clients was about as messy as it could get. Sending Algebra’s husband to take care of my dad’s legal problems had been a risk, but the situation had called for it. I never wanted to expose myself like that again.
This was bad.
And it only got worse.
“Erica?”
No! Please don’t do this to me, lady! What happened to discretion?
I looked up, forced a smile. “Hi,” I said weakly.
“I thought that was you. Wow, small world.”
“Yeah...” With my eyes I tried to tell her that now wasn’t the time for hellos.
She must have read my signs. She noticed my mother beside me, then said, “Well, enjoy your day. Oh, and try their avocado face mask. Does wonders for the skin.”
She and her friend were led to a couple of empty seats on the other end of the shop, but we were still in each other’s line of vision. I could still see her mischievous smile, those come hither eyes. She wanted me, and dammit I wanted her. She was wearing the crap out of that summer dress.
“Who was that?” my mom asked, watching me closely.
“Just, uh, the mother of one of the kids I babysit.” I couldn’t have sounded more dishonest if I’d tried.
No surprise that my mom, always the suspicious type, especially lately, said, “Who is she really?”
I gulped. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Is she... You know what, I don’t want to know.”
“Good.”
Just like that, what started out as a pleasant afternoon with my mother, quickly turned into the day from hell.
Ten minutes later, once my nails had dried, I hurried to the restroom to empty my bladder of punch. I caught Teetotal’s eye unwittingly.
When I was done in the cubicle, she was waiting for me outside.
