Beautiful Torment

by Paige Laurens

  I argue with myself as I walk outside, all the way to my car until I decide to turn around after all. With Valentine’s Day tomorrow, I’d regret if I never tried, if I never actually put the idea out there.

  He’s surprised to see me, clearly thinking I’d be well on my way home by now.

  “Is everything okay?” He’s concerned as he drops his pen. It falls on his paper with a low thud.

  “Yeah,” my voice is shaky. “Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.” He watches as I twist my fingers nervously.

  “I know,” he gives me a look. “But, you’re not the chocolate and flowers type.”

  I’d hate this more if he was wrong, but he knows me too well, further proving that what I’m about to do makes sense.

  “And you’re not the type to give that sort of mindless gift,” I counter and he smiles. Hopefully he knows me well enough to know that this isn’t me asking for something so materialistic.

  I pause, thinking of how to word what I want to say, as he waits patiently.

  “I know we can’t go local, but what if we go a few towns over this weekend, or maybe even to the City, just to be safe?”

  He’s confused at first, then registers what I’m asking for - a date.

  Any kind of date.

  “I can pretend I’m sleeping over a friends house. We could get a hotel room,” I continue.

  “You deserve better than a hotel room,” he spits.

  “But having sex in your office and classroom is okay?” I know I have no right to be mad, I knew what I was getting into, but I’m upset, furious at his reaction.

  “Are you changing your mind about us?” He tries to mask the hurt the idea brings, but I can’t help but wear mine. I know he’s attracted to me, but how can he not feel anything more?

  “No,” I snap. “I’m not because there is no us. We’re nothing.”

  The phone rings at noon, the caller ID saying MTHS, just like I suspected it would. It’s lunchtime, and I’m not there.

  “You’re bold, calling from school,” I answer.

  “I told you the last time not to disappear on me,” he says.

  “I think you forget,” I hiss. “That despite what we do, you have no claim over me.” The intake of air lets me know my words hit him hard.

  “How do you know I’m home alone?” I ask.

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  He laughs coldly, the distant sound of his voice sending shivers down my spine.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Luci,” he sighs. “I wish you were here today.”

  He hangs up the phone before I can even reply, and I realize I messed up. I don’t want to lose what we have, whatever that is, even if its only attraction for him.

  I can’t wait until tomorrow.

  I have to fix this now.

  I’m wearing my long down winter jacket with absolutely nothing underneath. To anyone else, I maybe could have a skirt on, but the freezing air that rushes up against my bare skin as I walk towards the school reminds me I don’t, that I’m completely raw.

  I sneak in through the basement door and head to his office. It’s 9th period, and I know he doesn’t have class, so I’m praying he’s there. I lightly turn the knob, relieved to find it unlocked.

  He’s at his desk, wearing khaki’s and a pale blue polo, and I’m sad I didn’t come today just so I could see him like this, looking so very glorious. His head lifts when he hears me shut the door, surprised that I’m here, and even though I’m furious with myself, and at him, he radiates yearning in every bone in my body.

  “I’m sorry,” My voice is sincere. “I had no right to -”

  “I have something for you,” he interrupts, grabbing an old book from the corner of his desk.

  The author is one of our favorites and I study the cover. Is this a first edition? My eyes find the signature next, and I’m taken aback, completely floored.

  “This is for me?” I meet his gaze, and he nods.

  “I can’t take this,” I shake my head. “It must have cost a fortune.”

  “I only got it last year. Saved up for it like hell though,” he states proudly.

  “Josh-”

  “Open it,” he swallows, and I do as he says, tracing my fingers over his messy handwriting, smiling over his words: You own me.

  “Are you talking about you or the book?”

  He lets out a sheepish laugh.

  “I want to talk, though,” he swallows nervously. “There’s something we should discuss.”

  No! My mind starts racing, remembering how off he was yesterday, even before he rejected my date idea.

  I don’t let him say another word, unbuttoning my coat, his eyes ablaze when he realizes I’m naked underneath.

  “Holy fuck,” he mutters as I let my jacket fall to the floor.

  “Too much?”

  “Luci,” he leaps from his chair. “No, it’s perfect, you’re perfect.” His embrace is warm, so opposite from the cold I just faced outside.

  “You know,” he purrs. “For someone who was a virgin, you’re awfully kinky.”

  “Are you complaining?”

  “Sweetheart,” he laughs. “I’m salivating.”

  I unbuckle his pants as both his hands cup my behind. “You’re ass is impeccable.”

  “Oh yeah?” I turn around and bend over so he can get a better look.

  I immediately hear the rustling of a condom wrapper as he states his demands. “Spread your legs for me.”

  I obey, and the next thing I know he’s lifting me from the waist and shoving my body against the door while ramming into me from behind. I writhe, from both the feeling of the laminate against my chest and the sensation of being filled so quickly. His mouth finds my neck as his hands explore me. The way he’s jerking his cock into me, so roughly, yet caressing my body with such care does insane things to me.

  He suddenly stills and I cry out. “Why did you stop?”

  “I’m falling too fast,” he sighs.

  I swallow, wondering if he means his feelings, or the fact he’s already so close to coming.

  He remains still except for his hands. They move over my ribs, to my hips, rubbing and brushing my skin softly.

  “You love it when I touch you,” he whispers.

  “Yes,” I answer

  “You’re grabbing onto my cock so tightly,” he breathes. “And all I have are my hands on you.”

  “But you’re inside me,” I counter.

  “I’m not even moving,” his light bellow provokes me.

  “It doesn’t matter,” my back arches against him as my hands move up the sides of his face and into his hair, a silent beg to start moving again. He turns his head and kisses my arm, but when he doesn’t move, I do, pushing and backing myself into him.

  “Yeah! Keep backing up into me,” he groans. “Ugh! Like that!”

  He finally starts moving again, ramming forward hard.

  I close my eyes, imagining how his face is probably scrunched up in bliss. By now, his mouth has most likely fallen open wide, his head tilted back, maybe even his lips are pulling back too, making those hot expressions of his.

  The bell rings, dismissing school, and we both pause, hearing all the noise and shouting just on the other side of the door.

  “They have no idea what we’re doing in here,” I’m panting hard.

  “Do you like that?” He asks, his voice husky and warm. “You naked, with me inside of you, a piece of wood away from all of them?”

  I whimper.

  “You do,” he fathoms. “I can feel your pussy contracting around me.”

  “Oh god,” I wail at his vile words. “Please,” I whimper again. He slides his hands down my body, finding my swollen clit. He nibbles at my ear as he rubs me. “Faster, Mr. Harrington,” I plead.

  “Fuck!” he tightens his grip on me. He’s about to explode.

  Suddenly, there’s a knock. The vibration pushes his finger in me further, and I’m drowning in euphoria.

/>   “Mr. Harrington?” A male voice booms.

  He slows his demanding movement, his cock pulsating, ready to release. He swallows hard against my back as he answers.

  “Yeah?” His voice is too airy, too full of pleasure.

  “Um, we’re supposed to discuss next years track schedule?” It’s Mr. Chevy.

  “Uh,” he grunts heavily in my ear as he pulls us away from the door, rocking deeper into me in the process. He bends me over the island, plunging with a primitive and possessed drive, so hard and fast that he’s shouting his answer to both his colleague and to me.

  “Coming!” He grunts lowly in my ear as his cock extends inside me, thudding and emptying into the condom.

  “Thank you,” he whispers.

  “No, thank you…” I feel his smile even though I can’t see his face. His arms disappear from around me and I’m glad he can’t see me as he pulls out. “… For the book, it’s really the best gift ever.”

  “Well it’s yours,” he exhales. “Like I said, you own it.”

  He removes the overly filled condom before fixing his shirt and pants, giving me one last kiss before sliding out the door and off to his meeting.

  I put my coat back on, zipping it up. I grab my new book and wait a few minutes before leaving too, hoping I can still beat Gracie home before she realizes I was gone.

  The rest of February brings much of the same in the form of mind-blowing sex and blurred lines. I try to get over the fact that he doesn’t want more. I attempt to return to understanding the reality of things. But, I can’t seem to leave my dream world, and it wreaks havoc on my heart.

  SPRING PLAY

  Gracie made the lead in the school play, which is unheard of for a freshman. This comes as no surprise to me, because I know how amazing she is.

  Rehearsals are the entire month of March, and because of this, I’ve been staying after school even later than usual. I guess if I left after school like a normal person, I would have a lot of time before I’d have to come back and get her. Nevertheless, I’m not normal. I stay after daily with my chemistry teacher, and there’s no point in me going home just to have to return an hour or so later. So, once my teacher and I finish devouring each other, I go and sit in the very back of the auditorium, doing homework and reading, watching as my sister sings and dances.

  Today is no different, and after we clean up and say goodbye, I leave his office and grab a seat in the theater. Using the faint light that shines in through the tiny glass hole of the door, I start my homework, moving from subject to subject with a sense of ease.

  “Are you as good as she is?” His voice is smooth in my ear, jolting me to life. I thought for sure he left when I did.

  I smile, biting my lip.

  “Definitely not.” I turn around, seeing him in the seat behind me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I know you’ve been coming here,” he shrugs.

  “Are you as good of a writer as your sister is?” I turn back around, facing the stage, watching as his sister and my English teacher animatedly talks with the school’s music director.

  “Definitely not,” he repeats my answer, but I bet he’s making it up; he’s good at everything.

  I get back to my homework. He’s quiet, and I can feel his eyes on my back, or maybe he’s watching the rehearsal. Every bone in my body is aware of him until I’m no longer able to concentrate on what’s in front of me.

  “You know, you can sit next to me,” I say, looking straight ahead as if I’m talking to no one. “I won’t bite.”

  I hear him chuckle as the seat flaps up automatically. His scent is overpowering as he takes the seat next to mine.

  “What are you working on?” He closes the space between us and I focus on the small stubble on his face, thinking about how badly I want to nibble on it, even though I just did not too long ago. “Luci,” his breath is intoxicating.

  “Chemistry homework,” I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Teacher’s a real dick.”

  “What about your chemistry teacher’s dick?” His eyes light up and I jab him in the ribs.

  “Hey!” I shout as he attempts to tickle me, his fingers roaming, lingering a little too long to be innocent.

  Something falls on stage and we both freeze, realizing that although we’re in the back, and it’s dark, we’re not alone. I settle back in my seat, catching my breath, embarrassed after doing something so silly. He grabs my hand, moving it under the chair before entwining our fingers.

  I watch his silhouette out of the corner of my eye and we’re quiet as we watch the performance on stage. I have no idea what’s going on. All I notice is the current that flows from his most simple touch straight to my heart.

  “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” My question’s random, jarring in our silence.

  “Italy,” he answers almost immediately. I don’t say anything as I wait for him to elaborate.

  “There’s so much history. The old mixed with the new, and the architecture is unreal, like something made up in a book brought to life,” he’s rubbing my hand as he answers. “Every little street leads to a piazza, the cobblestones…”

  “It sounds magical,” I whisper, and my eyes closed as I imagine the picture he’s painting, all the colors and the smells that he goes into. “Do you know Italian too?”

  “Maybe a little,” he shrugs as the corner of his lips turn up. “What about you,” he asks. “Have you traveled much?”

  “Not really,” I shake my head. “A few states, but never outside of the country, aside from Canada once when I was a kid,” I sigh. “I want to though.”

  “Okay,” he smiles. “So travel - love, hate, or no opinion?” He asks, starting our little game we sometimes play.

  He asks something, to which I have to answer love, hate, or no option, and then it’s my turn to ask him, but the topic has to do in some way, shape or form with the last.

  “Love,” I answer, meeting his smile. “I think I’d love it.”

  “So you could experience the real thing,” he laughs. “Aside from your ziti pizza.”

  “Hey,” I huff. “Don’t knock the ziti pizza.”

  He laughs, as I think of my question.

  “Okay, Mr. travel and food. “Breakfast?”

  “The meal or the club?” He smirks, referencing the movie.

  “Both!”

  “Love. It’s the most important meal of the day,” he says and I roll my eyes. “And also love.”

  “I mostly skip breakfast,” I admit and he shakes his head.

  “Bad girl,” he tisks. “Don’t disappoint me on this next one,” he says. “John Hughes?”

  “Love!” I shriek. “Pretty in Pink is my favorite movie!”

  “What’s your second favorite?”

  “Hmm,” I think. “Three Men And A Little Lady!”

  “Really?” His face is scrunched, but his eyes still glisten.

  “Yes! Don’t make fun. It’s so cute!” I pause, debating on my next question. “England?” I know he’s been.

  “England? We’re passed the travel subject.”

  “No, they go to England in the movie,” I correct. “It fits.”

  “No opinion,” he shrugs. “It’s kind of dreary…. Fish and or chips?”

  “Well, I’ve never had the official fish and chips. But, love chips, hate fish as a food, no opinion on the pet version.”

  He laughs a wonderful sound.

  “How do you have no opinion on fish?” He’s still chuckling. “You either like them or you don’t.”

  “I dunno,” I shrug. “They’re kind of just there… in a bowl, swimming around until they die and float to the top. It’s so weird.”

  He’s still laughing as I remain on the whole British topic for my next question. “Harry Potter?”

  “No opinion,” he answers. Haven’t read the books, or seen the movie.”

  “Oh the books are so fun, you have to read them!”

  “Is there anything you h
aven’t read?”

  “Don’t be absurd,” I roll my eyes.

  We continue like this, back and forth, for the rest of the afternoon, and too soon I’m disappointed when we hear everyone on stage saying goodbye. He looks at his watch and we laugh, not realizing how long we’ve been here.

  We say goodbye for the second time today.

  It’s not any easier.

  The next day after school, as I’m putting my clothes back on, he says he’ll meet me in the auditorium.

  I’m giddy as he plops down into the seat next to me, in our quiet little back row, grabbing my hand like he did yesterday, as a new magical conversation begins, planting itself in my memory, never to be removed.

  This is how it I spend my March, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  The show performs all this upcoming week and weekend, leading into spring break. Thanks to going over snow days this year, spring break is actually pretty short, and not nearly as long as it was supposed to be. Hallelujah! Everyone keeps complaining about its length, but I know two people who are extremely thankful.

  The local elementary and middle schools have field trips to see the play during this week, while parents and the public will come over the weekend.

  Today is the very last rehearsal, and I’m devastated to no longer having that extra excuse to spend more time with him.

  I was getting nervous he wasn’t going to show up in the auditorium today. He had a department meeting after school and wasn’t sure how long it was going to take.

  I can’t help the extra beat of my heart when I see him sneak into the theater, watching out of the corner of my eye as he takes the seat behind me, just like he did the first time he showed up here, almost a month ago.

  “Follow me,” he whispers.

  He abruptly gets back up and walks out.

  I stand, grabbing my bag and heading out the side door of the auditorium too. The change of lighting makes me to squint, and I rub my eyes. I don’t question where we’re going as I match my pace to his, because it doesn’t matter.