Before I drove away from the school, I shot him a quick message.
Saw your car. It got me thinking about you. I’ll be away today again, and I won’t like it. I miss coming to you at night.
After sending the message, I tossed the phone on the seat beside me. It still felt weird sometimes texting Beau and calling him on break. I never had this kind of intimacy with anyone else before, and it was more than just the sex, although we were even closer since he took charge and made me his bottom. Whenever I remembered that night, I would get hard again. What he had done to me had been so hot. It had hurt, and I’d been cautious to not show the discomfort around others after that first night, but I’d had no qualms about him doing it to me again the next time we met.
Beau inside me was even more intense than me being inside him. Since it had happened, we were both more relaxed, and I felt more of his equal in every way. He could pleasure me just as much as I pleasured him and that made us both happy. I also sensed the relief in him that I enjoyed him making love to me. The last time we had made love to each other, flip-flopping until we both came.
I tried to think of other things on the drive to the trucking station. The last thing I wanted was to approach my men with a bulge in the front of my jeans. They could be brutal when it came to discussion of sex and women. I’d have never heard the end of it if they saw my hard-on. I frowned, wondering how they would react to finding out I was gay. Eventually, they would know just as everyone else would. The more I was with Beau, the more I wanted to be out with him, to do things in public that heterosexual couples did. We’d never have that unless I came out. I felt so close to making that decision but just a little bit more time to think things through. Beau had mentioned he loved me, but I wasn’t a clueless teen. Love didn’t always mean both persons ended up together.
At the trucking yard, I went over assignments with the guys on duty that day, putting Red in charge of the shorter deliveries since I wouldn’t be back until the next day. I had a delivery to make in Alabama which was almost a seven-hour journey. Passing through scale houses and all the essential stops stretched the drive to another hour. I wanted to make good on time, so I only stopped for bathroom breaks. In Alabama, after unloading, I refueled at York Marathon Truck Stop and had an early dinner.
Refueled, I jumped back in my truck and hit the road. For many, the life of a trucker might have seemed lonely, but it had been a reprieve from my marriage. When I’d bought the company from the previous owner, I’d pumped money into the business, converting a statewide service into a business that serviced several states. I had doubled our fleet and expanded our service to handling not only dry bulk and heavy haul but some chemical transport as well.
Since the previous owner had such a strong customer base already, I never experienced the difficulties of a start-up company. The business had always boomed. Hector, my former boss, had loved his job. When he went senile, there was no one else in his family to take over the business. His only son, who favored a corporate lifestyle, had only been too happy to sell it to me at a reduced rate. With the aid of loans and mortgaging our house, I took over Reliable Trucking Service and made it even grander. Apart from my kids, the business was my pride and joy.
Over the past year, I had begun to settle more into the desk job duty of owning the business to stay close to my kids. I had realized in trying to avoid my wife, I was also doing my kids a disservice. I’d missed out much of their lives being on the road when I was just a truck driver. No wonder they were not as close to me as they had been with their mother and I only had myself to blame.
By the time I arrived in Atlanta, I was exhausted and grateful for the eleven-hour driving rule. I located the closest truck stop and pulled into the one on Donald Lee Hollowell Parkway. Since the truck was empty, I felt better leaving it for a short time to relieve my bladder. I couldn’t resist the aroma coming from the restaurants and gave in to the growl of my stomach. I took a seat in one of the restaurants where I was able to keep an eye on the truck. It was highly unlikely anything would happen to it in broad daylight and especially unloaded, but I didn’t like leaving things to chance.
I called my mom and checked on my kids which exhausted me even more. The short call I intended to make turned into a long conversation until I had to cut her off by informing her I was eating. I told her I would be back later tomorrow then hung up before she could find something else to say.
I wanted to call Beau, but he would be at the community center until seven, rehearsing with the kids. He usually had his phone off or on silent while he was engaged in his work. He took his job seriously, and when he talked about teaching and making a difference, I sensed how passionate he was about his career. I wouldn’t have had the patience to teach children, so I respected his enthusiasm for his job.
After chatting with a few of the other truckers around and turning down an overzealous waitress who wanted to climb into my truck, I decided to retire for the night. I washed up as best as I could with the supplies at the truck stop before I secured the truck with an old trick I had been taught, looping the seatbelt tightly through the handle of the doors before locking them into place. One couldn’t be too careful when on the road.
Satisfied that I was as secure as I could be, I entered the sleeper berth behind the cab and turned down the single bed. It wasn’t as vast as some others, but it was luxury considering some truckers had to sleep in their seats reclined. I stripped off my shoes but left my clothes on. In the case of an emergency, I might not have enough time to pull on clothes before getting out of the truck. I barely slid beneath the sheets and reached for my phone to call Beau when it rang. I smiled to see his name flash across the screen.
“Hey, what’s up?” I answered his call.
“Just got home,” he replied.
“Hmm. You should have been home at least an hour ago,” I told him, checking the time. “Not that I’ve been watching the time or anything.”
He chuckled. “You totally were. Admit it.”
“Yeah, well?”
“You didn’t tell me your mom was in town.”
I pulled the covers to my chin. “I decided to call her to stay with the kids. I didn’t like the idea of me being so far away and them not having anyone around.”
“It’s fine. Just that you could have told me, you know. Before she ambushed me and invited me to dinner with your family.”
“She did what?" I jerked to a sitting position in the bed. "Beau, you’re not making sense. You met my mother?”
“After practice, none of the other kids were able to drop Charlie home,” he said. “So, since you weren’t in town, I decided to be the supportive boyfriend and drop your daughter home. Your mom came out, saw me and insisted that I stay for dinner. There’s nothing I could have said to her that would have translated as ‘no’, Gordon. Your mother doesn’t listen well.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, groaning at the thought of my mother and Beau together. “Did she try to interrogate you?”
“That and give me relationship advice when she found out I didn’t have a girlfriend.”
“Shit. Sorry about that. Ma can be a pain. She usually stays away unless she’s needed because she knows she drives everyone insane. We love her, but she can be a little too much to handle.”
“Well, I survived, and now you owe me.”
“I miss you,” I told him, innocently.
“Uh-uh. That ain’t gonna work, mister.”
“What do you want then?” I asked him, leaning back against the pillows.
“You.”
I sucked in a deep breath at his word. “But you’re so far away.”
“I’m just a thought away,” he purred in my ears. “Now why don’t you get naked and tell me how you’d fuck me in that truck of yours?”
I swallowed hard and told him every gritty detail of how I'd make him squeal.
Chapter 23
Beau
“That sounds like fun,” I remarked at my co-worker�
�s suggestion that we should plan a weekend trip to New Orleans. “I haven’t—” the ringing of my cell phone interrupted me, and plans completely forgotten, I reached for it where it was located on the coffee table. “Sorry guys, I’ve to take this.”
Conscious of the eyes on me in the teacher’s lounge, I headed for the male bathroom.
“Hey, I’ve been hoping you would call me,” I answered the phone.
“After you sent me that pic, how could I not?” Gordon growled at me.
I chuckled, thinking about the naked picture I had sent him of myself in the shower this morning. Who could blame me when I missed him so much? He’d lost a few truckers who had decided to form a smaller trucking company. While he was interviewing, he had to do a few of the shorter hauls. These days he was caught between work and doing therapy with his kids, so we’d had little time to see each other physically.
“I take it you like it?” I asked. “I wasn’t so sure when I didn’t get back a reply immediately.”
“My battery was dead. I just saw it when I turned on my phone and what’s not to like?”
“We’re still on for later then? Please say yes. I’ve missed you.”
“I know. I missed you too, and yes, we’re still on.”
“Good.” The bell chose to ring then, announcing the end of my lunch. “I’ll see you later. I’ve to go substitute for a class.”
“Okay. I can’t wait for tonight.”
“Me too.”
I hung up the phone and returned to the teacher’s lounge where we had been discussing the possibility of unwinding on a group trip to New Orleans. I was ambivalent about it. I wanted to go because I had yet to do anything entertaining since I had been there. With the work days and volunteering at the community center, then starting a relationship with Gordon, I had little time. But, I wanted Gordon to come along with me. That was a dismal possibility though which meant I would miss another weekend with him if I decided to go on this trip.
“You in on this trip?” Griffin, one of our Algebra teachers, asked as I entered the lounge.
“I’ll have to think about it,” I replied. “I may have something to do that weekend.”
“Well, the date isn’t decided yet.”
“Fine, send the information to my email. I’ve to do a sub for the P.E teacher.”
“Freshmen?”
I shook my head. “Seniors.”
His face creased with concern. “Be stern with those kids. If they think they can push you over, they will make a fool of you in front of the class.”
I nodded, thanked him for the advice and quickly moved towards the classroom where I would be subbing for Chuck Taylor, who ran the Sports department. Subbing was a part of my duties this year, but this was the first time I had a senior class to substitute.
When I walked into the classroom, only a handful of students were there. I introduced myself to them as their substitute teacher for the day and apologized for the absence of their regular teacher. I checked my watch, noting the hour was already ten minutes past one. The students started trickling in their small groups which I was used to by now. When they got wind that a teacher was absent, they took their time in arriving at class. Usually, I would document my students who came late, but although I had a register of the students’ names, I could not trust them to be honest about who they were.
The final group of guys arrived thirty-five minutes late. I wasn’t the strictest teacher at the institution, and I encouraged students to be their opinionated selves, given they did so respectfully. I would have allowed them to sit quietly with the other students. Some were sleeping, others doing assignments. The group of four guys who entered took one look at me and snickered.
“I’m Mr. Moreau, subbing for today,” I introduced myself with a smile. “You can have a seat where they are available.”
“Where’s Mr. Taylor?”
I turned my attention to the speaker of the bunch and paused. Had I seen him around before? He looked vaguely familiar. Blond hair, blue eyes and on the peak of manhood. He had a cocky little smirk on his face. I was disturbed by the dislike I identified in his eyes.
“Mr. Taylor isn’t at work today,” I answered. “I’ll be with the class for the hour.”
“Cool, we can go back to the court then,” the blond replied, and his friends nodded in agreement.
“Instructions are that you stay in today so if you could take your seat.”
“You can’t tell us what to do. You’re not our teacher.”
I rose to my feet, asserting myself. Kids could be intimidating, especially when they were a part of a clique, but I’d learned during my teaching practice back in England, that the interaction between student and teacher for the first time, determined the kind of relationship that would exist between the two. The entire class was watching and for them to challenge my authority, would leave the others with an impression of me.
“Regardless of what you think I am or am not,” I stated with clarity but calmly, “is of little consequence. You need to take your seats, now.”
Seconds ticked by as we faced off. I maintained my stance, not backing down. This wasn’t the first time a student was challenging me, but this time was different. I could sense it. He had no real reason to question me, but he was. Was it for the benefit of his friends or was something else at stake for him? For God’s sake kid, make this easy for both of us and go to your seat.
“We don’t have to do anything,” he argued. “This is P.E. We belong outside, and that’s exactly where we are going.”
“You set a foot outside that door, and you can just continue to the principal’s office.” I rarely ever sent kids to the principal’s office so I was hoping he wouldn’t walk out. The principal was known for his extreme measures at times. Given the rise in pranks by senior students because they knew they would be going off to college soon, he was threatening them with a bar from graduation and their prom.
Instead of taking it as a warning and complying, he swung around to face me. “Why? Because we want to do P.E outside instead of in a classroom?”
“My job as your substitute is to sit with you. Here, in this classroom and this is where we will stay. End of discussion.”
Chattering started by the other students, but I could hardly pay them any mind when this man-child was arguing with me. I knew it was imperative for me to end the conversation and stop feeding him ammunition for his snarky comments.
“Fine! Since you can’t handle being outdoors with the real men, we’ll stay in.” He rolled his eyes and scoffed at his friends. “Now we know who wears the panties in his relationship.” His friend snickered. “Thanks for clearing that up because we’ve all been wondering.” He moved off to comply but muttered loud enough for me to hear, “Fag.”
A gasp erupted from the students, and I could feel my anger mounting. The students were all silent, watching what I'd do next. I'd had it with his smart mouth. Plus, this was the second time someone was throwing the word at me, and I was the right amount of edgy, remembering Eric getting away with what he’d done to Gordon and me. I tried to control my anger. Barely.
“Principal’s office, right now." This kid was begging for it.
“What for? I know we ain’t wrong about you. You’ve no right to be teaching us!” He ended on a shout. I was almost tempted to shout back at him but what good would that be?
“Principal’s office,” I reiterated. “Now. I’ll be along shortly.”
I didn’t have a problem with him challenging me about my sexuality. I was happy being a gay man. Rather, his blatant disregard for my authority, his obstinance, and refusal to do as he was told all amounted to insubordination which was against the school rule, and punishable by two days of suspension. I also envisioned that if someone had curbed Eric when he was younger and made him informed, he wouldn’t have been as hateful towards Gordon and me. I’d chosen this school to teach because they took disrespect of their staff by students seriously.
Once the disre
spectful student grumbled on out of the classroom, his friends were easier to get settled. In fact, they didn’t need to be told to get to their seats. They went willingly. I had to wait until the class finished then I dismissed the students and headed for the Principal’s office. I hated having to send a student there, especially one from the graduating class. Mr. Jackson, the principal, had already forbidden two teens caught smoking pot in the locker room from this year’s graduation.
At the principal’s office, I stole glances at the kid sitting outside while I filled out the incident report form. I didn’t know why but he looked familiar. I tried to rack my brain but could not come up with how I knew the kid. He glared at me, and I frowned at him. This kid had some serious issues, and I was already sorry for whoever his parent was.
What happened next was pretty straightforward. The Principal’s secretary, Rebecca advised us when we could go in, and I presented the issue I had in the substitution class. I felt a little sorry for the boy when he didn’t contradict my statement. I was at least preparing for him to misconstrue what he had said to try to get off. Instead, he sat there, mostly quiet, his hands folded in his lap. He seemed almost regretful for his behavior.
“Principal McLean, if the student issues a public apology, the matter can be laid to rest.”
“No, no, Mr. Moreau,” the principal said, sounding angry as he stared at the boy he pointed at. “I told you the last time that if I ever saw you in my office again, it’s bye bye graduation for you.”
The boy gasped, shaken. “You can’t do that, sir. I’ll do the apology. My dad will kill me if I don’t graduate because of this.”
“I’m willing to accept the apology,” I said, wincing at how thin-skin I sounded, caving in to protect the boy. Something about him struck a chord with me.
“I’m afraid the decision isn’t yours to make, Mr. Moreau,” the principal declared. “Once you bring the matter to me, it’s now left up to the disciplinary committee and me to deal with the matter how we see fit.” He turned his attention to the boy. “Now Oliver here has been breaking the rules too often, and we don’t have a school if the rules aren’t upheld. We’ll have to make an example out of him.”
Easy Does It Twice (Till There Was You Book 1) Page 17
