Schooled

by Deena Bright

  “Well played Janelle, I mean Miss Garrity.” He put his shirt on, slipped his shoes on, and kissed my forehead.

  “Miss Garrity, I really like the sound of that now.” He kissed me hard on the mouth and neck, sucking my earlobe.

  “I used to think that you were the best teacher ever, now I know it for sure. Damn. Next time.” He kissed me again and left. I closed the door and couldn’t believe the way I acted. Char was going to shit. She was going to lose her mind. Man, that was hot. Next time…

  I was exhausted. I got into bed, replaying the day’s events over in my mind. How had Leo Cling grown up so quickly, and so damn well? I had never seen such a change in a guy before and what a change it was. Char was right again; he wasn’t a kid. I wondered if he was dating anyone, then scolded myself for wondering. Seriously Janelle, you were just masturbating in front of one of your students and now you’re thinking about another one? I had to pull it together. I had to figure out my life, not sit around and hook up with former students, no matter how hot it was. Speaking of hot, Briggs certainly surprised me tonight. The man was a god, perfect in every way, his words, his actions, his body, those eyes. He had the ball rolling; I was so turned on and just willing to let him take me, have me. Then, he just fumbled the ball like he didn’t even have a clue where the end zone was. And from what I remembered about Briggs Alexander, he never fumbled. I couldn’t fault him for it though, because he certainly made up for that dropped ball. He recovered it, cleared the end zone with ease, spiking the ball at victory. Score! I was satisfied and he didn’t really even touch me. Oh the things that I could teach him, he could be the perfect lover, my lover. My student.

  Chapter Eight

  Knocking again? Was I ever gonna sleep in this summer? Remembering the previous morning’s embarrassment, I grabbed my robe, tying it tightly around my waist. My head was pounding and my stomach was grumbling. When was the last time I had eaten? Shit, I was starving.

  Jocelyn was the greatest sister on the planet. She came bearing groceries, beverages, and an Egg McMuffin and hash brown from McDonald’s. Having an older sister was the answer to my prayers. I devoured the sandwich and greasy fried potato, while she put away all the groceries, organizing everything in the cupboards. McDonald’s was always the morning answer to a late night of sex and alcohol, well pseudo sex anyway.

  “So kiddo, how’re ya feeling?” At least she let me eat before bombarding me with questions, I thought sarcastically. I knew that Jasper and Joz were going to be worried about me and about how I was going to handle Marcus and the divorce. Almost on cue, Jasper walked in.

  “Gross. McDonald’s? Do you guys even know what’s in that crap?” He wrinkled his nose and started to peel an orange, hopping up on the island.

  “Really damn good crap,” I moaned with my mouth full. “By the way, do you knock? And get your ass off my counter.” He smiled and didn’t budge.

  “Well someone has made herself at home. How ya doing?” I knew that I’d be better off just getting the inquisition over. I told them all about packing, setting the ping pong table on fire, and about my spa day with Char, leaving out the Brazilian wax and the tutoring of the African-American stud. I’d tell Joz when we were alone; Jasper’s ears weren’t ready for such knowledge, maybe never.

  “Ha! That’s great! That fucker always cheated at pong anyway,” he declared as he popped an orange slice into his mouth. “I talked to the company’s lawyer; your best bet is a Disillusionment. It’s fairly quick and relatively painless.” I grimaced at his words, he caught my look. “Painless legal procedure, I know you’re in pain, Nelle.” I smiled, grateful that he’d take the time to correct himself. Actually, sadly enough, I was hurt, but I wasn’t hurting all that terribly bad. What did that mean? Why was I questioning it? I knew what it meant, probably always knew what it meant. Marcus and I weren’t really meant to be.

  “Janelle, this is the best thing for you.” Jocelyn said, as she got the cleanser from under the cupboard. “I talked to Rick. He wants you to go through your house, make a list of everything you need or want, and he and his brother are going to go get everything for you.” She started scrubbing the sink, the already clean sink. Rick turned her into a nut-job clean-freak. “They’ll bring it here or put it in a storage unit. Rick doesn’t want you to have to get it.”

  Feeling bad, I said, “They don’t have to do all that for me.”

  Ignoring me, she said, “Marcus is such an ass, he’d probably fight you on everything. He wouldn’t say a word to Rick and Dave.” Jocelyn had done a lot of preparation for me. She always had my best interests at heart, so did Jasper. I was lucky. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I wanted to talk to my parents.

  “When are mom and dad scheduled to call again?” I hated that we couldn’t reach them whenever we wanted. Who just leaves their kids? What is wrong them with? Jocelyn wasn’t as pissed as she should have been. Her kids were growing up without their grandparents. I was pissed for her.

  Joz pulled up the calendar on her smart phone. “Not until the end of next week.” We usually all got together at Jocelyn’s for their monthly call. It was easier for them that way. I wondered why we tried to make things easier on them; they left. They made things hard for us. Jasper and Jocelyn didn’t see it that way. I did. I missed them. I still needed them, especially now.

  The three of us were sitting around just talking, talking mainly about bullshit topics, nothing of substance. I was talked out by that point when there was a knock at the door. Joz got up to get it. “Hey Nelle, Uh, I think it’s for you,” she said teasingly.

  I walked to the door; my eyes widened. Briggs was standing on my porch, holding a comeback cup from Starbucks. All his confidence and assuredness was back, leaning on the frame of the door.

  “Dude, why is Briggs Alexander at my house, your house?” Jasper was looking at Briggs, star struck, as he bounded up to the front door, shaking his hand and pounding his back. Everyone in town knew Briggs; he was a hometown celebrity. Jasper led Briggs in. Suddenly, silence and awkwardness filled the room.

  “You know he was one of my students.” I didn’t know what else to say and that response certainly didn’t clear anything up.

  Jocelyn walked up to him, looking formal and business-like. “So Briggs, is it? What brings you here this morning?” Nice Jocelyn. Real subtle. “With Starbucks?” Damn Jocelyn, shut it. Jocelyn and Jasper were floored. I didn’t think it could get any worse at this point.

  “I just thought the Teach deserved an apple.” He pulled a small apple from his pocket and popped it into the air. It hit his bicep, sending the apple through the air to me. I caught it with a giggle, quickly shutting my mouth and sucking in my lips. “Plus, I left my phone right there last night,” he said as he walked over to get it. I hadn’t even noticed his phone. And yes, it could get more awkward. Oh. My. God. What were they going to think?

  Jocelyn and Jasper glanced back and forth between us, then incredulously at each other. They decided that they needed to get going and were stumbling over each other to leave. Mortified wasn’t strong enough to explain how I felt. They mumbled their goodbyes and left the pool house, leaving us alone.

  “I left the phone here on purpose.” Briggs looked so proud of himself. “What can I say? I’m an overachiever, eager to learn more.” Alright, he was hot, even though he wasn’t as skilled in the bedroom as I had imagined, his sex appeal and willingness to learn was making up for it. Fuck it, what did I have to lose? My job. My reputation. My dignity. Eh, fuck it.

  “I’m glad you’re here; I was just about to take a shower.” His eyes widened. “But a bath seems pretty good too. Interested?” His shirt was off before I finished the sentence. “But hon, you need to learn some self-control.” I couldn’t believe how cliché I was being, but I wanted this man naked and in my bathtub.

  He smiled, nodded, “Yes Ma’am, control.” He followed me back to the bathroom. I started the water, poured in some oils and bubbles. It seemed strange
taking a morning bubble bath, but I obviously didn’t care much about rules anymore. Screw World Literature, Sex Ed was way more fulfilling.

  “Take off your shorts, keep your underwear on.” He obeyed, staring at me with those eyes the entire time. “Briggs, I need you to brush out my hair for me.” He looked at me quizzically, shrugged his shoulders, and took the brush from my hands.

  He brushed my hair, slowly, softly while the water filled the tub. We both faced the mirror, his body pressing up against my back. “Sometimes, the actions before sex can be as exciting as the sex itself. Do you get that?” He rubbed his face in my hair, smelling my hair, feeling how soft it was becoming.

  “I’m learning that now. I never brushed a chick’s hair before Janelle.” I let myself enjoy the sensation of the brush’s strokes down my long dark hair. It felt nice to be cherished, catered to. He looked so serious, so determined. Finally, his eyes locked with mine in the mirror. I licked my lips and nodded slightly to him. He must have understood my cue, because he put the brush down, and began kissing my neck, and massaging my shoulders.

  “Untie my robe Briggs.” He stopped kissing me. Staring at me in the mirror, he untied the belt of my robe. Our breathing was getting heavier. “Don’t open it, just slip one hand in.”

  Briggs put his arm around me, slipping one hand into my robe, caressing my breast, and kneading the flesh. We both stared into the mirror, watching each other, admiring each other. The contrast of our skin tones was so erotic, so hot. I raised my arm up around his neck, turning to kiss his neck. His hand brushed my nipple, tugging on the bud. I whimpered. He chuckled, “I’m getting good at this.” I turned around, feigning anger and disappointment.

  I shook my head at him. “Tsk Tsk Tsk, You were always good up to this point Briggs.” I kissed his neck, letting my tongue trail down to his chest until he groaned with desire. “You know how to turn me on, turn any woman on; but, you have to be good throughout the entire game.” I said, winking at him. “This is just the first quarter baby.” That was just like me, teaching him in a way he’d understand. Referring it to football. Always the teacher. I opened my robe fully, exposing my body, grabbed his arms and put them around me. I kissed him, showing him how much I wanted him, wanted him to please me, wanted him to learn what made met wet.

  I backed out of his arms, and put my thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs. Damn, he should be modeling them. They fit him perfectly, snug in just the right spots, accentuating exactly what I wanted to see. I loved the black boxers on his black skin, it was so dark, so forbidden, so inviting. I pulled the waistband away from his body, freeing the tip of his penis to ease his underwear down past his hips. His stomach was rippled with muscle after muscle after muscle. I wanted to lick each ridge of his abdomen, but decided I wouldn’t allow myself.

  “I made a decision, young man,” I said as I flipped his underwear back up into place. Startled, he looked at me. “I think I owe it to all those young women you slept with, but didn’t bother to please. Those poor girls had to go home wet, horny, and frustrated. That just isn’t fair.” He scowled at me, shaking his head in disbelief.

  I smiled. “So, I figure, it’s only fair that for a while, I’m the only one who gets off.” I declared, rubbing my hand up and down his groin, feeling his hard penis. “You’ll get your turn, when I think you’re ready. But that day isn’t today Briggs Alexander.” I pouted, shaking my head. “Today, you’re gonna make me come, come with crazy pleasure and release, and go home as frustrated as those poor girls you fucked and forgot.” I scolded, while continuing to rub him through his shorts. “Do you agree to these terms?” I folded my arms across my naked breasts, watching his reaction. When I saw the agony on his face and the bulge and movement in his underwear, I slipped into the hot, steamy bubble bath. “And if you’re getting in, leave the boxers on, I wouldn’t want anything distracting me from my goal.” I picked up a handful of bubbles and blew them at him.

  Not wasting any time, Briggs got in and faced me, not knowing really what to do with himself. I moved closer to him, putting my legs up over his thighs, feeling his erection against my vagina. He was so hard, so large. Why was I denying myself that gorgeous rod? I rubbed myself on him, feeling him, ensuring that his boxers were making the right amount of friction on my clit. I leaned my head back; he sucked my nipple into his mouth. He moved his mouth from one breast, to the other, his other hand was on my ass, forcing me to move my hips harder on his shaft. I pulled his head from my chest, directing his lips to my mouth; I devoured his mouth. I loved the taste of him. He traced my lips with his tongue, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. This was new; this was nice. Still rubbing myself on him, I heard him groan. I shifted my weight away from him, standing in the tub. “Huh, seems like you might be enjoying his too much.” I sat on the corner of the tub, my legs primly crossed.

  “Fuck Janelle,” he sighed. “I’ve never been this turned on and frustrated; you’re killing me. I feel like I’m 14 years old again.” He splashed water on his face and rubbed his wet hands over his face and head. I laughed. He was so freaking hot. “God, I want you,” he whined.

  I uncrossed my legs. He stared transfixed at the area between my thighs. I placed one foot up on the wall, the other on his chest. He took my foot in his hand, rubbing my foot. The sensation was erotic. His hands were wet, easily gliding over my feet. I freed my foot from his embrace and hooked my leg over his shoulder. I pulled him closer to me. Briggs growled, knowing where I wanted him and what I wanted from him. He took my leg off of his shoulder and placed it on the edge of the tub. Both of my legs were spread on the ledges of the tub. He looked up at me, licked his lips and smiled. Slowly he moved in closer to my vagina. He put his hands on the insides of my thighs, bracing them against the tub, restraining me from movement. My voice caught; I gasped.

  Suddenly, his tongue was buried in my vagina and his hands were squeezing and massaging the flesh of my thighs. “Easy, nice and slow,” I purred. He licked me slowly and penetrated me with his tongue, then licked me from my hole to my clit, missing it, and moving back down again. He glanced up at me and winked. I groaned. Cocky bastard. Licking his way back up, he finally stopped directly on my clit. Using light circular motions, he flicked his tongue around and over my clit, quickly, rhythmically. God, it was good. I began rocking my hips against his mouth, but his hands restrained my movement. He used one finger, inserting it into my vagina, moving it in and out, fucking me with his fingers. His tongue continued to lick my clit. “Briggs, oh…oh…I’m gonna come.” I was panting with desire.

  He licked me, whispered, “Oh Janelle,” before sucking my clit into his mouth. I grabbed his head and ground my mound against his mouth, exploding in a powerful orgasm, my legs tensing and tightening under his hands. I smiled, totally satiated. I noticed he was breathing hard too. I looked at him, skeptically and angrily.

  “Briggs Alexander, what did you do?” I accused him.

  “Hell, what was I supposed to do?” he said, lying back in the tub. “You’re so sexy, the jets were shooting water straight at my ass, and I was kinda sitting on my heels, a little movement was all it took.” He didn’t look embarrassed or guilty. He looked happy and even proud.

  I laughed, kicking water at him. He grabbed me and pulled me into the water. He kissed me. I welcomed the kiss. I’d never tasted myself on a man’s lips before. It was sexy and exhilarating. I felt… shit. I felt my heart flutter. No, not flutter. It was nice to feel wanted. That’s it. My heart certainly wasn’t into this.

  ******

  Briggs and I were soaking, snuggling in the tub, which I felt was out of his character and surely not something that I would have predicted. “So thanks for that apple, cute touch.” I said, giving him the props for creativity.

  He laughed, “You deserve it, Teach.” I couldn’t believe he’d brought me Starbucks (oooh, I hadn’t even sipped any yet) and an apple. Briggs was a lot more thoughtful than I ever considered before. Maybe even a little witty.
>
  “Why do you think apples are associated with teachers?” I wondered. He looked at me, confused. I clarified my question, “Like, I mean, do you think it’s like the whole forbidden fruit, Garden of Eden thing? Are teacher-student relationships so forbidden that people need to remind the teacher of its sinfulness, using an apple as its symbolism?” What was I even talking about? Why was I trying to engage Briggs in a conversation about symbolism? I must’ve been trying to remind myself that this was just about sexual pleasure, not intellectual or emotional connections. Something? Right?

  I couldn’t gauge the look on his face. I had no idea what he was thinking, but I realized I’d gone too far, too deep and for what? He laughed. I must have looked hurt, because he said, “No, no, no, I just think that you English teachers look for too much meaning in things. The first letter a Kindergarten teacher teaches their students is an A, and apple begins with A. Bam! Teachers, apples, there ya go.” He looked so sure of himself.

  “Hmmmm, interesting.” I had to give him that one, made a lot more sense than my forbidden fruit, sinful representation.

  “Remember that time you gave me a detention?” he asked as I was sitting behind him, rubbing his back, running my hands all over his strong, muscular back. I figured if I was behind him, that this could remain a platonic, wholesome soak in the tub. I liked that he couldn’t see how much lust was still in my eyes.

  “What? I never gave you a detention.” I smacked his back. I rarely gave detentions; they were ineffective. Students didn’t care if they had to stay after school, doing homework for twenty minutes. The punishment didn’t deter their crimes. Usually the 20 minutes was worth the fun they had breaking the rules.

  “Oh yes you did.” He turned around, facing me in the tub, pulling my legs up over his. “We were reading that dumb play, Antigone,” pronouncing it “anti-gone.”