Teach Me New Tricks

by Ali Parker

  He grinned. “Could have fooled me.”

  I could feel my cheeks reddening. I bent down, pulling up my pants and quickly righting my clothes. His hands were on me, pulling me against him and dropping a kiss on my neck.

  “I need to go,” I said pulling away from him.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yes. Sure. I need to get going.”

  “Leila,” he said my name, touching my hand.

  I jerked away. “I’m sorry. I really need to go.”

  “You’re worried about the student-teacher thing,” he said in a low voice.

  I nodded. “I am. I could lose my job.”

  “I won’t say anything,” he promised.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know if you would have to. Someone could have seen us come up here. Hell, there could be cameras up here.”

  He raised an eyebrow, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t think so.”

  “I need to go. We can’t leave together.”

  “I’ll go first. Take a minute.”

  I couldn’t look him in the eye. “Okay. Um, bye.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

  I wanted to tell him not to come back to class. I couldn’t. I was an adult. I could be an adult about a quick romp in the library. People did it all the time. Probably in this exact spot.

  He made no move to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I finally said.

  He stared at me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, fine, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said trying to sound light and normal and not panicky.

  He nodded and walked down the ramp. I watched him leave. The regret and shame I felt at what I had done felt like a three-hundred-pound weight on my shoulders. I was a hypocrite. I had judged the other professors for doing exactly what I had just done.

  I was a horrible person.

  Chapter 17

  Christopher

  I felt like I had just robbed a bank or done something equally illegal. I had stopped in the men’s room after leaving Leila in the attic area. We certainly couldn’t walk out together, and I was not quite that confident I didn’t have some kind of evidence on me. I felt guilty as hell.

  Guilty and oh so satisfied.

  After a quick check in the mirror, a little finger combing through my hair, I was confident I had removed any traces of the fact I had just gotten laid in the library. That sounded like the statement of a teen. I was still coming to terms with what I had done.

  I opened the library doors, stepping into the cool December air and making my way down the path towards the parking lot where my truck was waiting for me. I could smell her on me as I walked. I was sure it was probably in my head, but her scent lingered. I was half-tempted to lift my fingers to my nose and inhale.

  I didn’t. I resisted the urge. Partly because I didn’t want to get a woody while I was walking on campus. I’d be labeled as the old creepy guy sniffing his fingers. I was almost to the parking lot, my mind mired in thoughts of Leila and the feel of being deep inside her soft body when I heard my name.

  I stopped walking and looked around, spotting Alan to my left. “Hey there!” I greeted, suddenly feeling like I had just been caught.

  “Hey, I didn’t know you had another class,” he said walking up to me.

  I shook my head. “I don’t. I was doing a little studying in the library.”

  “Oh, wow. Dedicated.”

  I didn’t correct him. “Are you done for the day?” I asked him.

  He nodded. “I am. I’m headed out to go skeet shooting, you should come along if you don’t have anything else planned.”

  I shrugged. “I can’t say that I do. Skeet shooting? Is that the little clay things?”

  He winked. “Oh man, I’ve got my work cut out with you.”

  I laughed. “Sorry, I know fishing, but I don’t know much about hunting.”

  “This is just shooting. We’re not hunting skeet.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, pick on the new guy.”

  “You want to come?”

  “Sure,” I said, figuring it was about time I learned how to shoot.

  I followed Alan out of town, down a long, dusty road. I wondered if he was taking me to a range or something like that. He pulled off the road and parked in front of a huge house that looked like something from an old school plantation complete with massive columns in the front.

  I got out of my truck, admiring the gorgeous house with a huge red barn in the distance. “Where are we?” I asked him.

  “My place,” he answered easily.

  My brows shot up. “You live here?”

  He nodded. “I do.”

  “Is this a ranch?” I asked, feeling like a total city boy.

  He chuckled, closing the door of his Escalade. “It is, but it’s been a long time since any cattle have roamed these fields. I have some horses and my wife likes to keep some chickens, but that’s about it.”

  “Wow. This is a big spread. How many acres?”

  He shrugged. “About a hundred.”

  “What? No shit?” I exclaimed.

  He grinned. “No shit.”

  I turned to look behind us and realized the overhead sign we had driven under a ways back had been the entrance to his ranch. I knew real estate. I had shopped for land in the area for a while and knew he was sitting on a prime piece of real estate. “Did you inherit the ranch?” I asked, following behind him as he walked towards a huge shop.

  He scoffed. “Hell, I wish. My daddy was a poor schmuck. He spent his life in the oil fields. He passed it on to me. I wasn’t satisfied with just working someone else’s rig and making them rich. I wanted a piece of the pie.”

  “You own an oil operation?”

  “Not anymore,” he said with a grin. “I made my money and then sold it off and made even more money. The wifey insisted.”

  I had a whole new understanding of Alan. I had no idea he was a wealthy man. He certainly didn’t give that impression. It made me like him even more. “What are you doing back in school when you can retire and live a very comfortable life?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “I like learning. I know that is hard to believe coming from a guy like me, but it is something I enjoy.”

  “How long were you in the oil business?”

  He sighed. “I dropped out of high school and went to work with my dad when I was sixteen. I started taking night classes when I was about twenty. I did the business degree thing, then I studied hotel management.”

  “Hotel management?” I asked with surprise.

  He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I had just gotten into the oil business and thought I wanted to open a hotel. I didn’t have a lot of faith in the oil industry. Then I hit gold and all thoughts of owning a hotel were forgotten.”

  “Interesting.”

  “What about you? Did the real estate market go belly up on you?”

  I smiled, shaking my head. “No. It was a very good market, but I figured it was time to let someone else get a piece of the pie.”

  “Good thinking. You want to go out on a high note. I’ve seen too many guys lose everything by gambling away their fortunes. They always think they can make a little more and end up losing everything. It’s why I got out of the business. The stress and worry were making me a very difficult man to live with. I didn’t want to lose my family. Not a second time.”

  “I understand,” I said, knowing exactly what he was saying.

  “Where’s your place?” he asked, handing me a pump-action shotgun.

  “Lake Conroe,” I answered. I hated to flaunt my wealth, but judging by where we were standing, he wasn’t going to be too envious. He was doing just fine himself.

  “Oh, nice. One of those new builds?”

  I shrugged. “Not too new,” I answered, giving him a general idea of where my house was.

  “Oh, I’ve got a buddy that lives not too far from there. Nice places out there. I thought about bu
ilding a house on the lake, but the wife wanted land. It’s hard to find much out there.”

  “Yeah, small lot, big house, and a great view,” I told him, a line I had used more than once during my real estate career.

  “That is a good selling point in my opinion. More land means more upkeep. Some days it can be a real bitch.”

  “You don’t hire someone to do that?” I asked with surprise.

  He shrugged. “I got a couple of guys, but I prefer to do my own dirty work.”

  “That’s admirable.”

  We walked out to a wide-open space. He gave me a rundown of what to do and five minutes later, I was shooting, or rather, attempting to shoot, clay pigeons. It was a lot of fun.

  “How are things going with your boy?” he asked after a while.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know really. Just when I think we’re making some headway, it gets bad again.”

  “I imagine it’s a tough deal. After my divorce, my kids hated me. They still had their mother, but they blamed me for ruining her life. You would have thought I killed her. It has taken some time, but they told me they were angry with me for breaking up the family. Your situation is different, but I wouldn’t be surprised if your son was actually angry at your wife for leaving him.”

  “It wasn’t her choice to leave him.”

  “No, but I’m sure you know grief can be a confusing thing. It’s hard to sort through all the feelings and make heads or tails of them.”

  I thought about it and realized he was right. I had been angry with Carlie. “I guess I should talk to him.”

  “You just have to be there. I can’t imagine the pain you were both going through when it happened.”

  “You sound like you have experience in the situation,” I said.

  “I lost a brother when I was much younger. It rocked my family’s world. My parents struggled, but ultimately divorced about two years after he died. Death doesn’t just happen to the person who is no longer with us. The part of your life that involved that person dies as well. It’s a long process of rebuilding and finding a new way. It’s like losing your GPS signal in the middle of nowhere and trying to find your way back on your own—in the dark. With no headlights.”

  I laughed. “That is a very apt description. I really feel like moving here is our way back. I’m hopeful.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “Good. I hope things do get better. I’m confident they will. It takes time. You’ll find someone new and you will slowly start to rebuild your life.”

  I cringed. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I don’t think my son is ready for me to start dating.”

  “You’ll know when the time is right. You do you and focus on your son. When it’s the right time, the right woman will come along.”

  I didn’t want to think about the right woman coming along. I was still riddled with guilt about what had happened just a short time ago. “I’m not worried about finding the right woman.”

  “You will. One day, you’ll realize you’re ready to love again.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Life goes on,” he said. “We love and we lose. We smile and we cry. Life is to be experienced and sometimes those experiences include some heartache. I have every confidence in the world there is someone out there just waiting for you.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know about that. I’m just trying to get through the day. One day at a time.”

  He chuckled. “You’re a healthy man in his prime. I wouldn’t wait too much longer. You might need to do a lot more skeet shooting if you don’t find yourself a lady.”

  I looked at him. “Why’s that?”

  He winked. “Because life is stressful. You need an outlet.”

  My mind immediately went to my conversation with Leila in the library. We had talked about sex and masturbating, and it had all proven too much for me. I had kissed her and from there, things had spiraled out of control.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I mumbled before pulling up my gun and resting the butt on my shoulder. “Pull.”

  I wasn’t interested in love. I couldn’t be. Olin wasn’t ready for me to date and I certainly wasn’t ready to get into the swing of things. The sex had been great, but I had to chalk that up to a moment of weakness. I was a man with needs and all the talk about sex with a beautiful woman had been too much for me to ignore.

  Sex was not love. The mythology I had been studying proved that time and again. Sex was a natural stress reliever.

  That was my story and I was sticking to it. What happened between Leila and me had been a one-time thing. It wouldn’t happen again. She didn’t want it any more than I did. I knew she was worried we would get caught and she could lose her job. I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on her. It wasn’t fair.

  It just wouldn’t work between us. Period. End of story, and no reason to think about it ever again.

  Chapter 18

  Leila

  I couldn’t bring myself to go home. I didn’t want to be alone with my guilty thoughts. I needed someone to talk me off the ledge. I was ready to fall on my sword and give up everything to the dean. I’d beg for forgiveness and hope for the best.

  I was terrible at keeping secrets. I didn’t have a good poker face. I said whatever was on my mind. If the dean came to me and asked me about my tryst with Christopher, I wouldn’t be able to deny it. It seemed smarter to make the first move, unveil the secret before it was unveiled for me.

  I knocked on Kami’s door, grateful she was home. She opened it, took one look at me, and moved out of the way. “Come in and tell me what happened.”

  “I screwed up,” I groaned walking past her and heading for her fridge. I yanked it open, grabbing a soda and flopping onto her sofa.

  “What did you do?”

  “I’m so screwed. I’m going to be in deep shit.”

  “Do we need to bury a body? Do you need an alibi? I’ve got your back.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No and no. It’s so much worse than that.”

  “What’s worse than murder?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

  I bit my lip. “I slept with him.”

  “Girl, you’re going to need to be a little more specific.”

  “Him. A student.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “The old guy or the young one?”

  “The old one,” I said before I realized what I said. “He’s not old!”

  She clapped her hands. “How was it?”

  “Stop it! This is serious. I slept with a student. On campus. In the library.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Wow. Way to step up your game!”

  “No! Not wow! This is horrible. I’m going to lose my job!”

  “Relax,” she said. “You had sex. That isn’t exactly a criminal offense.”

  I bobbed my head up and down. “With a student. I just got lectured yesterday about the exact situation. I promised the dean I would never do something so awful.”

  “Bitch, please. It’s sex. Sex in college is like drinking while in college. It happens. It happens a lot. Hell, I think people go to college with the sole intention to have sex.”

  I scowled at her. “With each other. Not with the teachers.”

  “Same thing.”

  “No! Not the same thing! I’m going to get fired.”

  “Why would you get fired? You know, you don’t have to run and tattle on yourself. You can keep the incident to yourself.”

  I sighed, putting my hands over my face. “You know I’m terrible at secrets.”

  She scoffed. “Don’t I know it.”

  “I think I should just go to the dean and tell him I made a mistake.”

  “God no! That’s crazy. Just relax. When did this happen?”

  I grimaced. “Like an hour ago.”

  Her eyes bugged out. “You dirty girl!”

  “Stop it! I’m dying here. I feel horrible. I cannot believe I did it. I cannot believe I did that with a student. In the library. I’m so ashame
d of myself.”

  “Don’t be ashamed of yourself. You were doing what healthy, young women do. You weren’t doing anything risky. You’re a big girl and can make these decisions all by yourself. You don’t have to ask for permission and you certainly don’t have to ask for forgiveness.”

  I knew she was right. I was getting in my head. I hated that. I hated it when I let myself get stressed out over something that wasn’t worth my time. “Should I talk to him?”

  “Your sex machine?”

  “Stop it.”

  “You know, you’re glowing. He must have been pretty good.”

  I shrugged. “It was, but it can’t happen again.”

  “In the library. I cannot believe you did that. That is very unlike you. Give me details. Did he start it? You? How?”

  I held up my hand. “I’m not giving you details. It was very good and I’m going to leave it at that.”

  “Party pooper.”

  “What if he tells?” I whispered my biggest fear.

  She made a face. “He’s not going to tell. You said he was older. Why would he tell?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Guys talk.”

  “Boys talk. Men, especially the way you describe him, are more mature than that. He doesn’t have to brag about getting laid.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve dated men, real men, before. None of them were running around blabbing about our sex.”

  “He could threaten me, blackmail me to give him a good grade.”

  “In Greek mythology?” she said in a dry tone.

  “Hey, it’s a class and some people take their grades very seriously.”

  “You’re trying to talk yourself out of doing it again. Stop feeling guilty for having a little fun. I’m proud of you.”

  I leaned back, folding my arms over my chest and mulling over what she was saying. “It was fun. I liked the spontaneity of it.”

  “Good, good, tell me more.”

  I sighed. “We were going over some stuff for a test tomorrow. He had to miss a class last week and I offered to get him caught up.”

  “I bet you did,” she cooed.