Fly on the Wall (10 page)

I grabbed Trese by the hand and had one thing, a blowjob, on my mind while walking through the parking lot; at least until I spotted Coach Johnson leaning against his truck, and talking to who? Ms. Patrick. I yanked my hand from Trese's and pretended that I had to scratch my head. It looked like Coach was laying the shit on thick because she was all smiles.

“Fuck,” I murmured when I realized that we would have to walk right by them.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“What?” Trese asked again.

“Nothing, I just didn't want Coach to see me,” I lied.

“Why, because you're with me?” She was getting an attitude. “Fuck him.”

“Just be quiet. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Whateva.”

I stopped. “Don't start, Trese. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Then why did you let go of my hand?”

“No drama tonight, okay?” Getting Trese to my house was vital. Though I didn't have things set up quite the way I envisioned them, tonight had to be the night that I pulled this off. “Do you wanna do this, yes or no?” I gave her a choice.

She looked away. “Yes.”

This wasn't a big production, just a circus act. In other words, this was nothing serious. “This doesn't mean that something has changed between us or that anything ever will change.”

“Whateva, Theo. Let's just go.” We started walking again.

As we approached them, both Ms. Patrick and Coach Johnson looked our way. She stared at Trese awhile before looking my way. Her eyes said
What a fuckin' liar
, and as I looked at her smiling with her ex-husband, my eyes said
You muthafuckin' fake
.

Coach laughed heavily. “All right now, make sure that you take her straight home,” he teased.

“Of course.” I swerved a little and slapped palms with him. “Have a good night.”

He laughed. “You too.”

“Good night, Ms. Patrick,” I said.

The grin was wiped clean from her face. “Good night, Mr. Basketball,” she said sarcastically. “I'm sure that you get busy on the weekends. Just try not to forget your homework.”

“Never that.” I looked at her and then back at her ex-husband. “You two have a good evening.”

Trese and I were at least twenty feet away when I heard Ms. Patrick call my name. I turned around and she was already walking toward me. I handed Trese the keys. “Go ahead to the car. Let me see what she wants.”

We met halfway. “Thanks again for the dance.”

“Anytime.” I winked and waited for her to blush.

“Anytime?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “The way you left, I thought that I had done something wrong.”

“No.” She pulled a few strands of hair out of her face. “When you do something wrong, I'll be the first to let you know it.” She looked away. “I was just getting a bit too wrapped up in the whole thing. I felt like
I
was doing something wrong.”

“When you do something wrong, I'll be the first to tell you not to stop,” I said and we both laughed.

“Well,” she looked in Trese's direction, “I hope that she didn't mind our little tango.”

“She didn't.” I giggled.

“I see you with her a lot.” She tried to mask her jealousy. “Who is she?”

“Trese,” I said.

“Not her name.” She juggled her words. “I meant who is she to you?”

“Yesterday's news,” I said.

“Really?” She searched my eyes for the truth. “Seems like today's top story to me.”

“Naw,” I lied, “she asked for a ride home.”

“I see.”

I changed the subject to what really mattered. “I hope that Coach isn't extra hard on me in practice now after dancing with
his
girl.”

She waved it off. “Oh, please, I'm nobody's girl.”

“That can be changed,” I had the balls enough to say.

She was floored, and struggled with what to say next. “I have extra homework for you.” Her eyes wandered from mine. “There is a word that I want you to add to your vocabulary list.”

“What word?”

“
Intrigue
.” She blushed.

“Okay,” I teased. “I think I need you to use it in a sentence.”

“Let's see.” Her light brown eyes shifted nervously. “I am intrigued by you.”

My face lit up. “
Intrigue
just became my favorite word.”

“Good.” She blushed again. “Then I expect that you will be able to use it in a sentence by Monday.” She turned and walked away.

As I watched her walk away, I tried to decipher if she had just given me education or flirtation. Either way, I wanted more. Once in the car, I heard nothing that Trese was complaining about.

“Why are you going here?” she asked, pointing at the drugstore.

“To get something.”

She rolled her eyes. “I'm already pregnant, so why do you need to wear a condom?”

“So that we don't have twins,” I joked. “Wait here. I'll be right back.”

She pulled me by the shirt as I reached for the handle. “I wanna feel you, though.”

I thought of the size of my “pal” and knew that there was no way around feeling it. “Like I've said before, you'll never not feel me, and you know it.”

“The damage is already done, so we should take advantage of it while we can.”

I pretended to think about it. “Naw.” I shook my head and opened the car door. “I'll be right back.”

In the store, it took me all of five minutes to find what I needed, pay for it, stick it into my pocket, and run back to the car, where I found Trese pouting. I ignored her until we were at my house. Kevin was spending the night at his friend's, so the house was officially all mine until 3
A.M.
I had four free hours, but wanted Trese gone in thirty minutes or less.

“Why are you looking so sad?” I asked as I turned the light on in my room and removed my shirt.

“'cause,” she sat on the bed, “you act like I have AIDS or gonorrhea or something.”

“Trese, we've talked about this before.” I tried not to sound frustrated. “How do you know that I don't have something?”

She rolled her eyes. “Whateva.”

“I'm serious,” I said. “I'm not trying to give you anything, and I damn sure don't want anything from you.”

“You've already given me something.” She rubbed her flat stomach. “This is the best thing you could ever give me.”

As much as I wanted to protest, I couldn't let her see me sweat. I needed her to think that I was on her side. “Yeah.” I reached down and rubbed her belly. It felt the same way it felt after we ate McDonalds or while I was fucking her doggie style and reached under her. “Let's do this,” I said as I removed her top. “I've missed you.”

“Really?”

It was all an act. “Yeah.”

She unsnapped her bra. When her perky brown nipples were exposed, my boy was at attention. My fantasy was always to slide between those mounds, but she was always too horny to do
just
that. “There go my girls.” I reached for her chest and brought my mouth down to service them. My tongue flicked over her nipples until they were as hard as I was below.

“Hmm,” she whispered and tried to catch her breath. “I've missed you, too, Theo.”

“Can I put my dick between them?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “But I want you to taste me first.”

This was definitely not part of my plan. “Okay.” When I took off her jeans and saw her thong buried between the lips of her fruit, I knew that it was going to be hard to get back on track.

As she was about to remove her underwear, I stopped her. There was something incredibly erotic about the royal blue silk material being stuck in the chocolate brown and baby pink folds of her flesh. I laid her back, gently parted her juicy lips with two fingers, and then gently hiked the thong upward. The material subsided, and out popped her clit. I kissed it then moved my tongue between the wetness just beneath it. I sucked and licked on her until the flavor was gone.

I'm not one of those young bucks that believe that eating pussy is shameful or nasty. I love it, and treat it like it's a delicacy. I never know if I'm going to eat it again, so I eat each one like it's my last. It's something about the warmth, the moisture, the clit stiffening, the way the woman grinds against my mouth, and the moans, groans, and sometimes screams that I evoke from her that send me on a natural high.

I imagine my tongue as a small penis. I tease her, fuck her, beat her, and control her with it. As a matter of fact, sometimes I come while in the process. It never deters me, though. By the time the chick is ready to ride, the horsy is back in the saddle again. And once I drop the big boy on her, I can guarantee that I can have it pretty much any time my little heart desires it.

When I was through with Trese, I disrobed and mounted her. She held her breasts together as I pushed my way through and landed in her mouth. Back and forth through her breasts and in and out of her mouth. After ten minutes, I couldn't hold out any longer. It felt like a warm cotton swab traveling from my shaft to the tip and
WHAM
! Trese was having herself a warm milk facial.

“Ugh!” she screamed. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Sorry.” I was, but it played into the plan. “I couldn't help it.”

“Get up.” She spoke with her eyes squeezed shut. “Get up off of me.”

Everything was coming together. “Come on, I'll lead you to the bathroom.” I grabbed her hand then the bag from my jeans pocket, and led her down the hall. When she was in front of the toilet, I sat her down.

“Hurry up, Theo. I don't want this stuff in my eyes.”

Without turning on the lights, I got a towel and turned the water on full blast so that she wouldn't hear the rustling of the bag. I removed the item from the box and its wrapper then handed her the towel. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” She took it, and as she wiped her face, I knelt down before her and kissed her with one hand behind my back. “Do you have to pee?”

“What?” My question threw her. “Why?”

“Because I have to,” I lied. “So if you need to, you have to hurry.”

Before she could say a word, I heard the sweet sound of urine hitting the toilet water and moved into action. My hand raced from behind me to under her. Her warm liquid was falling right were I needed it to.

“What are you doing?” She giggled. “You must've seen the R. Kelly tape.”

“Yeah.” I faked a laugh.

“Crazy ass.”

When I had what I needed, I pulled my hand from under her, stood up, and turned on the light. “In a few minutes we'll see who's crazy.” I held the pregnancy test out toward her, and when she grabbed for it, I already knew the answer. I ran down the hall into my room and locked the door.

“Open the door,” Trese yelled.

I joked. “The box said to let it sit for three minutes, so gimme two and a half more minutes.”

She yelled, “Open the fuckin' door!”

“Wait.”

“Just give me my clothes. I wanna go.”

“Oh, now you wanna go?” I said. “Two minutes won't kill you.”

“Whateva, Theo,” she screamed. “You make me sick.”

I took my time getting dressed, and six minutes later, the pregnancy test proved that the baby Trese wanted me to father existed only in her imagination.

“S
o, you've finally decided to return my call, huh?” Toni said into the receiver before even saying hello to me.

“I'm sorry, girl. Things got a little hectic for me this weekend.”

Toni whined, “I left you three messages.”

I corrected her. “You left me one message.”

“Well, I called three times.” She didn't give me time to explain. “I could've been dying.”

“Dying?” I laughed. “I heard your message. You wanted to know if I had your red shirt. That's far from dying.”

“Whatever.” She giggled. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Have the shirt.”

“No.” I really wasn't sure. “I thought I gave it back to you.”

“Well, I can't find it.” She changed the subject. “Anyway, what was so hectic about your weekend?”

I glanced around the teachers' lounge to be certain that no one could hear me, but Mrs. Fernandez, the home economics teacher, was a few feet away, thumbing through a magazine. “We'll talk about that another time.”

Toni was excited. “Is it about Doran?” She couldn't wait.

I mocked my mother. “The gay?” I grimaced. “There will never be another story about him.”

“Is it Craig again?” she asked in disappointment.

“That was so two weeks ago, and that's a done deal.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “That's what you say two weeks after each time you sleep with him.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, this is the time that counts,” I assured her.

“So, whom are you talking about then?”

“Who said that I was talking about someone?” Let's be real. A thirty-two-year-old woman has no business, none, flirting with an eighteen-year-old to begin with, so there was no way to explain whom I was talking about, what did or didn't happen, or even what I felt or didn't feel. I wasn't sharing this borderline embarrassing revelation with a soul. It was hard for me to believe much less ask for advice about having a crush on one of my students.

My intentions were never to lose sleep thinking about Theo. However, all weekend long he fed into my brain like a blood vessel. He wasn't someone that I aimed at pursuing. I surprised myself by dancing with him, touching him, and talking to him like I did, and after each time, I promised myself never to do it again, but the sight of him always brought thoughts that couldn't be doused by anything except more of him. Even though he approached me like a man ten years his senior, that would still make him four years younger than I was. I was going to hell.

Theo's interest in me heightened my curiosity about who he was, and I acted like it. Whenever we were alone, Theo worked hard to turn the fourteen years between us into a bridge. He'd cross it and take me back over to the other side where I felt eighteen again. However, as soon as I was alone, I'd realized that I wasn't Demi Moore and he wasn't Ashton Kutcher. Shit, Ashton is twenty-six . . . and rich.

I was fourteen years old when Theo was born. He was drinking milk from his mother's breast, and I had been seeing my period for over three years. I could be his mother. When he was in his “terrible twos,” I was planning for the senior prom. Theo had naptime in kindergarten while I crammed for final exams in college. Despite all I'd done to not see him as a man, my conclusion was that he was the mold every other man should've been cut from.

“Hello?” Toni said. “You there?”

“Sorry, I was looking over a memo,” I lied. “What did you say?”

“I was asking what was so damn great about your weekend.”

“I didn't say anything about having a great weekend.” I reiterated, “I said that it was hectic.” I never hid anything from Toni, but this Theo thing wasn't anything to share. She would just assume that I reached a new height of desperation if I allowed an eighteen-year-old to infiltrate my mind.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“You're confusing me.”

“What?” I was sorry that I called her right before I would be seeing Theo. I couldn't get my mind right. “All I did was clean. That's what made it so hectic,” I said. “I finally got around to getting rid of that stuff in the garage.” I was mad at myself. “That's it. That's what made it so hectic.”

“Ah shit.” She sounded disappointed. “I thought you were really about to tell me something.”

“You're the one gettin' it on the regular.” I laughed. “You have a husband. Tell me something.” Right then, the class bell rang and scared a tiny bit of the devil out of me. “Oh well, there's the bell. You'll have to tell me later.”

“Nothing to tell. Marcus is out of town,” she joked. “Unless you want to hear about my threesome with Mr. Duracell and Ms. Energizer.”

“I'd rather not.” I frowned. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye,” Toni said as she laughed and hung up.

Within five minutes, I'd be seeing Theo for the first time since saying good-bye to him in the parking lot on Friday after the school dance. I gathered my things with anxiety and fear, not knowing what to expect, what to say, or even what to teach. I apprehensively left the lounge.

I sauntered into my classroom a full minute before the bell and was shocked to see Theo already in his seat. I nervously avoided looking his way and nearly screamed at the sight of the single long-stemmed rose lying on my desk. I controlled my facial expressions as I opened the card atop it. It read: Intrigued by its beauty, smell, and elegance, I wanted it to belong to me. The word
intrigued
was underlined. It was the sentence that I had asked him for. Like it didn't faze me, I threw the card down, turned to the chalkboard, and scribbled the day's assignment, a pop quiz. “Aw, man.” I heard the students grumbling behind me.

“Good day,” I said with a smile in response to their displeasure.

“Ms. Patrick, is the grade for the quiz going to count?” a student asked.

“Every grade counts,” I said as the moans and groans continued to make their way around the classroom.

“We need an incentive for doing good,” Angie mumbled.

“I think an A is a great incentive,” I said.

Richard Jenkins spoke. “How about if as a class we average a C or better on the quiz we get to have a party?”

I thought about it. “Okay,” I agreed. “A pizza party never hurts.”

“Naw, we want a pool party at your crib.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” The idea caught on like wildfire through the classroom, just as the negativity had earlier. “Yeah, a pool party,” a female voice said loudly.

“There's no way we can all leave school and go to my house.”

“True,” Richard continued, “but on the weekend we can.”

I laughed. “You guys don't even know what the quiz is on, and if you all lose, then what do I get?”

Theo spoke up. “Every weekend we'll take turns washing your car.”

“And you will be the first one, right?” I said, half joking.

“Nope. I plan on being the first one at the pool party.” He laughed and was joined by his comrades.

“Okay,” I said. “You guys have a deal.”

The five-question quiz was based on the first act of
The Taming of the Shrew.
In ten minutes, I was done grading them, then stood before the class with an unbelievable announcement. “Pool party this Saturday at four.” The students erupted in cheers. “Wait, wait a minute.” I tried to quiet them. “In order to come, I need either a phone call from your parents or written letter of consent with a home phone number on it by Thursday.” I wrote my cell phone number on the board. “Let's try to keep this between us. This isn't something that the school would recommend that I do.”

“So, we know our Shakespeare, huh?” Richard asked.

“No, I just have nothing to do this weekend,” I joked. “Turn to chapter three in your books. There is still work to be done.”

 

 

When the bell rang, Theo seemed relieved. He sat in his seat, and when the last bookbag passed the threshold, he stared at me, making me melt.

“How did I do on my vocabulary quiz?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“I used
intrigued
in a sentence.” He pointed at the rose. “How did I do?”

“You did good.” I picked up the flower and smelled it. “Better than I expected.”

He shifted in his seat. “You look very, very nice today,” he commented and when I stood up, I felt his eyes on me like fingertips.

“Thank you.” I blushed.

“You had me thinking over the weekend.”

“Really?” I asked. “What about?”

“Us dancing, talking, just about us being together.” He wasn't shy at all. “So, what thoughts of me did you have?”

“Who said that I had thoughts of you?” I tried to pretend that I had it all together.

“I thought we were past this bullshit.”

“What?” I swung around and saw him standing from his seat. “Watch your language.”

“Why?”

“Because this is my classroom.”

“Fuck this classroom.” He grabbed his things. “It's like you're playing games with me. I guess you think I'm just some stupid kid.”

I locked the door to the class, not wanting anyone to just walk in. “What are you talking about?” I whispered, hoping that my tone would encourage him to lower his voice.

“One day you tell me that I intrigue you, then the next day you're all different.”

“What did I do?” I asked.

“You won't keep it real. You won't be honest with me or yourself.” He continued. “I asked you a simple question, and you act as though this whole thing exists only in my mind.” Theo's voice got a little louder. “You've been on me just as much as I've been on you.”

“Shh,” I quieted him.

“No.” He refused. “I know that you have some interest in me. You tell me that with your body, but then you open your mouth and change the whole story.” Those eyes of his were ripping off my flesh. “Are you interested in me or not?”

“Theo, I just can't go around—”

“Just answer the question,” he interrupted.

I hesitated. “Yes,” I spoke softly. “Yes, I'll admit that there is some interest, but that doesn't make it right.”

He said, “It doesn't make it wrong, either.”

I tried to explain. “I know, but my intentions weren't—”

He interrupted me again. “What did you expect?”

“Not this!”

“So, you were just out to fuck with my head?”

“No.” I should've stopped while I was ahead. “It was just all in fun.”

“All in fun?” he asked. “After a month of us talking, laughing, you dancing with me on Friday, you stopped me in the parking lot to tell me that this is all in fun.” He shook his head. “I guess that answers my question.”

“What question?”

“Forget it.” He had his books in his hand and tried walking by me to get to the door. I couldn't believe that this boy was handling me . . . a student . . . a man. I was pissed. I pulled him back by the arm.

“Just ask me the muthafuckin' question,” I said and watched his eyes fill with shock hearing his English teacher use the very word others were scolded for. “Well, ask me.”

He stared at me and then let out a heavy sigh. “Did you think of me this weekend?” With eyes I wouldn't lie to, power I couldn't fight, and lips I couldn't speak to, I simply moved my head up and down slowly. He smiled and took a deep breath as well as a step back, and rested his books on the closest desk to him.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked. I just continued to shake my head up and down as his hands made their way around my waist like we were dancing again. He was curious. “What did you think about?”

“Everything.” The word came out so softly that I didn't think he heard me. He lowered himself to meet me and pulled me into him so gently that I didn't know that I was moving until I was pressed up against him. Our lips moved toward each other, the warmth of his breath covered my upper lip, and then I heard the doorknob turn.

When the person on the other side realized that it was locked, they began knocking. They knocked us back to reality.

I smiled at him. “I have to get that.”

“All right,” he said and quickly sat at a desk and practiced looking like the poor detained student he was supposed to be.

I walked over to the door, opened it, and Craig stormed in. “All right now, enough is enough.”

“What?” I was confused.

Craig pointed over at Theo. “What's going on here?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Are you trying to kill the season?” he asked me. “You keep him here several times a week just for being a few minutes late to your class. This has to stop.” For the first time, I was glad that he was talking about basketball. “He's missing out on a lot of practice because of your rules.”

“Rules are rules, Craig.”

“Isn't there a way around this?”

“No, because what I do for him, I'll have to do for others.”

“Then can't you just take the stick out of—”

I interrupted him. “I'm in charge here. This is not the basketball court. I'm his teacher, and I call the shots in this classroom.”

Craig was frustrated. “We have our first game next week.”

“Anytime he is late to my class, you can find him here. His detention time should never run into the first quarter, but if it does, then that's just too bad.” As I spoke, I made my way over to my desk.