What I didn’t expect was for him to turn up as a student in my classroom. The moment our eyes reunited, memories of that night hit me like a freight train taking the air from my lungs. My legs became weak and black spots twinkled in my vison. He was my dirty little secret. He was not supposed to show up in my pure, innocent world.
But the more I see him, the hungrier my urges become. I told myself one night. I taste the lies that spew from my thoughts even as I think them. The toys I never got rid of, the clothes that still smell like him. I don’t know what I’m doing. This was insane. He’s drunk, and I should turn him away, as well as my desires.
Student. Student. Student, I chant to myself, in hopes I snap out of the haze I’m in, but the closer I bring Mason to my bed, the more excited I become. My breathing is labored at the excitement of his hands touching every single inappropriate part of me. I tug at his arm and twist his waist so his back is to my bed. My anticipation sparks, and I push him and watch as he falls backwards, sprawling out on my mattress.
“It’s your turn to play nice and my turn for control. No talking, understand?”
Mason
My mouth is dry. My muscles sore. Strangely, I feel a cold breeze on my ass. I squint open an eye when the bright light sends a zap of electricity through my retina, sending pain straight to my skull. “Fuck.” I lift my head and inspect my surroundings. “Double fuck.” I came to Megan’s last night after the bar. I catch sight of my backside, and realize the cold breeze is due to my naked ass hanging out, her soft white sheet resting just above my thighs. Flipping to my side, I notice she’s not in bed with me. My mind spins for pieces of last night. Showing up at her door. The accusations. Her bringing me into her room. And fuck. Her wild, amazing imagination. My dick begins to poke against her mattress. I groan into her plush pillow, throw my legs off the bed, and sit up. The room spins, but I manage to get up and find her attached bathroom to take a piss. Everything in the bathroom is neatly placed. Her color choice, a calming shade of white and lavender. I wash my hands and search for my clothes, finding my briefs halfway under the bed and my jeans tossed over a chair in the corner.
Partially dressed, I go in pursuit of Megan, which isn’t hard because I follow the yelling. I find her sitting cross-legged in front of the television, a bowl of cereal in her hands as she yells at the screen.
“Oh, come on, Judy, that’s a bad move, girl!” She waves her spoon at the TV, then takes a bite.
“Judge Judy, huh?”
Her head whips in my direction, and a small blush creeps along her face. “Uh, how could you not?” She waits for my agreeance while shoving another full bite of cereal into her mouth. Long gone is the wild sex kitten from last night, and back is my innocent professor, wearing ridiculously bright pajama pants, eating a bowl of Lucky Charms, and watching a tacky reality justice tv show. “Don’t tell me you’re not a fan.” Her eyes widen at the mere thought that someone could possibly not enjoy Judge Judy.
“No, I used to watch her a bit back in the day at…” I catch myself. “She’s okay,” I finish. Her curious eyes wait for me to elaborate, but I don’t. She lets it go by shoving another full bite into her mouth.
“She gives some of the best advice,” she mumbles through her chewing. I stand there with my hands shoved in my jean pockets, admiring how cute she looks, a drop of milk falling from her spoon and dripping down her chin. It doesn’t go unnoticed that her eyes fail to stay on mine and drop every few seconds to my bare chest.
“Sorry. I couldn’t find my shirt.”
She chokes, knowing she’s been busted, and wipes at her chin. “Oh, yeah…uh, it was dirty, so I threw it in the washer. It’s almost done.” She continues to stare, and I’m uncertain where to go from here. I’m not sure if this is where I walk out, shirt or not, and pretend this never happened. I can’t imagine what she thinks of me now after the shit I pulled showing up at her door.
Shockingly, she pats the open spot on the floor next to her. “I made you a bowl. Wasn’t sure what kind of cereal eater you were, so I kinda put three different kinds in there.” I check out the large mixing bowl beside her, noticing Lucky Charms, Captain Crunch, and I believe Cocoa Pebbles. “And I also didn’t know how hungry you were going to be. So, I just put it in this.” With a guilty smile, she says, “This is my third bowl.”
Fuck, she’s cute.
“Uh oh, what? Do you not like cereal?” She gawks, more devastated that I could possibly not like cereal than Judge Judy. I want to keep her in suspense longer just to stare at that cute little pout, but my stomach rumbles, and I actually do love fucking cereal.
“Love cereal,” I say, and her relieved smile fucks with me as I sit my big ass down next to her. She hands me the milk sitting on the other side, and I waste no time digging into the best breakfast I’ve had in years.
“So, I gotta ask—”
“You’re the first,” she blurts out before I have a chance to say anything more. She doesn’t turn to me, but continues eating her cereal, pretending she’s immersed in the show.
“You’re gonna need to explain that one further,” I say, pushing her.
“The night at the bar. I’d never done that before. You were my first…and, well, I guess my only victim.” She takes another bite. “And last night…I guess I kinda victimized you last night too.” She keeps her eyes glued ahead of her. She can’t hide the flush of her cheeks, and I’m not sure if she can see from the corner of her eye the smile spreading across mine.
“You think you took advantage of me last night?” I laugh.
Her head whips to me. “Oh my god, do you think that? Oh shit. You were drunk. I shouldn’t have. Fuck, I should have sent you home. Shit!” She begins to panic, milk sloshing out of her bowl onto her cute little girly pants. I grab her bowl so she stops spilling it all over herself and place it on the ground.
“You didn’t take advantage of me. I was messing with you. Anything that happened, I sure as fuck wanted it to. And I loved every goddamn second of it.”
I love watching her eyes come to life. I’m learning she’s a very passionate person in her work and play. And last night was no different. She has wants. Cravings I’m desperate to feed. I pour myself more milk and guide my eyes to the screen. “So, what’s the case today?”
Sensing her relax instantly at my topic change, she jumps right in “This girl! So, she cheats on her boyfriend, right? Then tries to kick him out so her new man can move in—but! She and her old man share the lease. She’s dragged his ass to Judge Judy ’cause she thinks since he’s on the lease, he should still pay half the rent!”
Like I said, she has passion. I smirk while shoving a huge spoonful of mixed cereal into my mouth and fight the wussy moan at how good it tastes. It’s been a lifetime since I got a taste of hyped up sugar cereal. Before I realize it, I finish off the entire bowl, catching her curious eyes as I drain the leftover milk into my mouth.
“Wow.”
“Wow what?” I ask.
“I think I met the one person who may love cereal more than I do.” She grins, and I take note of her bowl, which is also empty. We stare back at one another, sharing a silent moment of recognition, then both burst out laughing. I could stare at her for hours. She’s beautiful in a way I don’t know how to describe. Her eyes shine with curiosity, adventure. Her graciousness makes me want to be someone better, just so she looks at me like I’m someone to be proud of.
I watch her stick her tongue out to wet her lips. Her throat bobs, swallowing, and I know—I know she’s feeling the same whirlwind building inside me. Yelling on the TV breaks the moment, and we both face the screen to see the verdict being called. Judge Judy slams her gavel onto the sound block and the show breaks into commercial. I know this is where I get up and leave, but the thought of walking out that door seems impossible.
“So…” she starts, and I know it’s time. I shouldn’t have shown up here to begin with. It’s time to go.
“Time to get—”
“If you don’t have plans today, there’s this Haitian voodoo tour…” she starts, cutting me off. “The voodoo queen of New Orleans is said to be buried there, and…I don’t know, probably not your thing, but it’s—”
“I’ll go,” I say.
“You will?” She ogles, shocked. “But you didn’t even hear what it was.”
“I’ll go,” I repeat.
“Are you sure? It’s probably really—”
“I said yes.” I couldn’t give a fuck if it’s to visit and test out torture equipment. I’d do anything in this moment to spend more time with her. Surround myself in her scent of cherries and sweet vanilla. My hands ache to hold her, and my cock even more so to violate her, but most importantly, I want to just be next to her. Hear her voice as she tells me stories about her life. A life I was less than fortunate to have. I want to hang on to every word she speaks as I imagine I’m in her world, living her life, peaceful and beautiful.