Fly on the Wall (3 page)

“Coach must've been on something when he married her mean ass.”

“He was on that ass,” Will joked. “But seriously, I heard she used to be real tight, though. As a matter of fact, I saw a picture of her taken a few years ago on the school website, and she was all that . . .”

“Now she's just a bag of chips.” I laughed.

“Hell yeah, that's why she's so mean.” He went on. “Somebody needs to give her some good lovin' so that we can pass.”

I was already thinking about not graduating. “What period do I have her?”

“If memory serves me right, I think it's sixth, right after gym.”

Things couldn't get worse. “Shit.” We entered the building and the smell of West Dade hit my nostrils and I was on a natural high. I loved my school. I slapped fives with a bunch of dudes and hugged my female classmates from last year.

“Hello, Theo.” A sexy, light-skinned girl approached me. “How come you never called me?”

Before I could form my lips to answer, a beautiful, full-chested, tall, brown-skinned girl overtook Ms. Light-Skinned like they were cars in traffic. She issued no signal light or hand gesture; she just ran the poor girl off the road.

“Hey, Theo.” She wasn't nervous at all. “We went to middle school together.” She smiled and flashed the letter L on her gold tooth. I couldn't stop staring at it. “You remember me?”

“Yeah, your name starts with an L, right?” I couldn't resist.

“Yeah.” She gasped and looked over to her friends. “I told y'all that he'd remember me.” By the time she looked back in my direction, Will and I were down the hall.

Sometimes the attention I received from girls was overwhelming. They wanted to be with me for one of three reasons: One, because of who they thought I'd be someday. They wanted to be that lucky one that I carried to the top. Two, because I was tall. They associated that with me having a big dick, which was the truth. Three, just to say that they had sex with Theodore Lakewood.

As much as I adored girls, I couldn't be a fool. Sex was here from the beginning of the earth and would be here way after I was dead and gone. I couldn't afford to get anyone pregnant, catch anything, or give anybody anything before I signed my name on somebody's dotted line. All I had to do was make it through this school year and then my life would really begin.

“It seems like everybody and their grandma is here this year, man,” Will screamed as we pushed our way through the crowded lobby. “I'm putting on a protective cup tomorrow,” he joked. “I've been hit in the nuts three times already.”

“What are you complaining for?” I laughed. “You know you like that shit.”

Instead of congregating in front of the posted sheets by the main office to find out where we went for homeroom, Will had already handed me a printed version of our schedules. “All right, boy. See you in history,” he said as we parted ways on the stairway. I went to the computer wing and he went toward the math section. I was careful as I turned each corner. The last person I wanted to run into was Trese, and if I were lucky, we wouldn't have any classes together.

Don't get me wrong. Every black guy at West Dade wanted a piece of her. At five foot eight and 120 pounds, Trese was thick in all the right places, with an ass that looked like it would punch back if you smacked it. She had a flawless, medium-brown complexion, was fashionable, and could suck and fuck better than any porno video I'd ever seen. So what was wrong with her? She was too nasty, loud, and ghetto as hell.

Trese and I met at a party at the end of the last school year. She put up a nice front in order to get me interested, but gave up the goodies far too early on the third day of knowing me. As if that weren't enough, meeting her family proved that she was someone I couldn't have a future with.

She lived with her grandmother, but that was because her own mother never moved out. How in the hell could sixteen people share a small three-bedroom house and two cars? I didn't know the answer, but what I did know was that whenever I was there, somebody was always being yelled at, roaches weren't concerned about being spotted, kids ran around at all times of the day and night, and nobody had a damn job.

I managed to get through five periods and lunch before I heard “Theooooo” coming from behind me. In a time like this, being tall was a pain in the ass because no matter how crowded the halls were, I would always stand out. I sped up, pretending not to hear her calling my name. “Theo!” she screamed, and when I was about to start running, a guy tapped me on my arm.

“Yo, somebody's calling you.” I never wanted anyone at school to know about Trese and me.

“Shit,” I said under my breath then turned around to see her roughly pushing her way through the crowd.

“Hey, boo.” She smiled.

“Hey, what's up, Trese?” I said in a less than enthusiastic tone.

“Nothing.” She never got the picture. “I thought you were supposed to call me last night.”

“My mom was trippin'.” I wasn't lying. After Mom walked in on us, Trese was asked to leave. Mom then snatched the phone from my room and the one in the living room off of the wall. “I couldn't call anyone.”

“Why was she actin' like that?” She ran her hand down my chest. “Don't she know that you a man?” As bad as I wanted to walk away, staring at her lips gave me reason to stick around another minute. She whispered, “I like suckin' your dick.”

I said, “Damn,” and right away I felt the blood exiting my brain. “You do?”

“Yeah, I went home and played with myself.” Those words left her lips and went straight into my jeans. I imagined her tight, brown, naked body rolling around in bed, rubbing on her clit, pinching her nipples, and sliding her fingers up and down through her wet pussy lips. My heart started racing . . . then reality hit. She shared a room with her mother and her two little brothers.

“I was waiting on you to call so that I could tell you to meet me somewhere,” she said.

I couldn't formulate a sentence right then if it was for a grade. “Really?”

“Yeah, I was just gettin' started.” Trese had a perfect set of glossy, full brown lips. They always made my imagination run wild. She licked her lips and my beef tightened and thickened. “I can't wait to finish.”

She innocently ran her hand over my growing knot as the crowd continuously brushed by. She knew how to get to me, and the sad part was that I always allowed her to. Before the blood could get back to the right organs, we were holding hands, strolling down the hall, looking like a happy couple.

When the bell rang, Trese and I were still walking. “Where's your class?” I asked.

“Don't worry. I'm going to class late,” she said as she squeezed my hand. The hallways were empty, and she looked over at me, studying me up and down.

“Well, I have English this hour. I have to go,” I said.

“But I want to give you something.” Trese made a sharp right into the boys' bathroom. All of the stall doors were open. We were alone.

“Trese, I can't,” I said, but I sure wasn't putting up a fight. “I have Ms. Patrick this hour.”

“Ms. Fatrick?” She chuckled. “This will only take five minutes.”

“You're crazy.” I meant it.

She had a freaky smirk on her cute face. “Yeah, crazy about you.”

We went to the last stall. She pulled me in, locked the door behind me, hopped onto the toilet, and grabbed my li'l man through my pants and stroked him. “Damn.” Her touch was amazing.

“I want to finish what I started last night,” she said as she squatted before me. “Take it out.”

How could I not comply? She was sexy, freaky, and wanted nothing more than to give me any type of sex my heart desired. It was moments like this, when my dick was throbbing, that made me feel that maybe I did care for her, that maybe she should be the one. “Here you go.”

She looked at my nine inches of flesh as though it were lost treasure. She teased me with little licks around the head and then slid my muscle into her mouth as she moved her hand back and forth from the shaft to meet her lips.

“Oh, man.” My eyes rolled back and my right hand quickly gripped the top of the stall. I rested my left hand on the back of her head. Trese was a pro; no teeth, all tongue, cheek, suction, and spit.

“Shit,” I whispered and watched those juicy lips slide back and forth, back and forth. I closed my eyes and envisioned being inside of her. It was tight, wet, and warm. I moved my pelvis in and out of her, slowly. After a few minutes, I was screwing her in the mouth like she was on top of me. Then suddenly she stopped. I opened my eyes and she was bent over the toilet with her skirt raised up over her ass.

“Put it in,” she said.

I couldn't believe that we were doing this at school. “What?”

“Fuck me.”

“You have a condom?” I asked.

“No, just put it in.” She reached back for my piece and pulled me by it. I couldn't think. All I wanted were her pussy lips contracting around my dick. “We don't need a condom. Stick it in and fuck me.”

When my meat rubbed against the wet surface of her gates, as much as I wanted to give her my entire big, black, fat dick, I panicked. “Naw, we can't do it like that.”

“Why?” I saw her roll her eyes.

“Because I'm not as stupid as you want me to be,” was what I wanted to say, but instead I said, “'cause we just can't.” Now I really believed what Will said was true. Trese wanted to trap me.

“What are you trying to say, Theo?” She turned back toward me. “You act like I have something.”

“You should be more concerned about yourself.” I stepped up. “What if I have something? Don't you care about me giving it to you?” It bothered me that she would just let me get in her without protection.

She sighed and rolled her eyes again. “Whatever.” She fixed her skirt. “We don't always have to use condoms. They take away from the feeling anyway.”

I stroked my long stick with a smile. “There's no way in the hell that you won't feel this.” In a world where I was king I would've said, “Shut the fuck up and suck my dick.” I didn't have the nerves or the time for drama. I just took a deep breath, put my hand on the back of her head, and guided my piece back to her lips.

She grabbed my dick with an attitude. “You don't have a problem with doing this without a condom.” She took me in aggressively, like she was trying to suck my soul out of me, and it was good. Her saliva covered me like a warm blanket and her lips were like fluffy pillows, but my beef was far from ready to take a nap.

“Damn, girl.” When I looked down, she was staring up at me and began sucking even faster. My whole piece disappeared into her mouth. “Damn.” I nearly ripped the stalls out of the walls to keep from groaning too loud. “Oh, oh, oh shit.” Trese opened up wide, and as God as my witness, I passed her tonsils and spewed out what felt like my entire blood supply into her throat.

“Let's go,” I said the moment I was able to think and breathe at the same time. I already regretted it.

She still had an attitude when we went our separate ways. I promised myself that I wouldn't mess with her again. She was trying too hard. The fun about being with a girl was trying to break her down; Trese was broken from the jump. I was up for a challenger, not someone that forfeited every game. I'd never been with an older woman, but Trese sucked dick like I was sure women in their forties did, which was a great thing, but also a big turn-off . . . It meant that she had plenty of practice.

“Stupid.” I called myself names as I made my way to Ms. Fatrick's class. Running through the halls, darting around things, all I needed was a ball. I was already seventeen minutes late, and I might as well have fun on the way there. I thought up a lie, but from what I heard, nothing ever worked on this lady.

“Whatever,” I said when I saw the room number. “I'm late. She can't kill me.” I hoped that I didn't smell like I had just gotten head, and I hoped that I didn't look like it either, but I was sure that it beat walking in the room trying to hide an erection.

It was the first day of school, so if worse came to worse, I could always say that I went to the wrong class. I slung my bookbag over one shoulder, and with sweaty palms I grabbed the knob, pulled the door open, and saw Ms. Patrick standing in front of the chalkboard. “Damn,” I said loudly. This year was already shaping up to be more interesting than I ever imagined.

“E
xcuse me.” I checked my watch and couldn't believe his audacity. “Besides being twenty minutes late to my class, who are you?” He was too tall to slip in unnoticed.

“Theo,” he answered and took the first available seat, which happened to be right in front of my desk. I already knew who he was. Who wouldn't? The school, local TV news, and newspapers treated him like he was the Messiah. But he wasn't getting any special privileges in my classroom. I pretended to need to look at my attendance sheet to know his name. “Do you mean Theodore Lakewood?” I spoke facetiously.

“Yes.” He gave me a hint of the winning smile I'd seen on TV so much. “That's me.” As he made himself comfortable in his seat, he stared at me skeptically, the same way I found most students doing today, trying to be sure that they were in the right class and with the right teacher. “I like to be called Theo, though.”

Was he serious? “When you're
this
late to class, Theodore, I get to decide what you'll be called.” I smiled and redirected my attention to the class as his ego shrank a little. “I was in the midst of going over the rules with your classmates who arrived on time.” I panned the silent room. “Would someone like to tell Mr. Lakewood what the penalty is for being tardy to class?”

A young man, who answered earlier to the name Richard Chambers, said, “You gotta stay an hour after school, dawg.”

“That's right,
dawg
.” I looked at Theodore and giggled along with the students at my usage of slang.

“I apologize,” he said. “But what exactly is considered late?”

“Did you think that this class began at one-fifty instead of one-thirty?” I asked.

He answered, “No.”

“Then you are late.”

“But what makes a person late?”

“You are late if the bell rings and you are not on the inside of that door.” I pointed.

“Don't we get a grace period?”

“No, sir.” This wasn't the basketball court. He was going to play my game. “You have five minutes between classes, which is more than enough time to make it to any room in this building.” I tried to smile.

“But some teachers at least—”

“I am not some teachers. I am Ms. Patrick,” I interrupted, giving him a grin. “When the bell rings, you are on my time, and on my time I get to call the shots.” I was trying hard to tone the “mean teacher” thing down this year. “Is that all right?”

“I guess.” He looked nervous. “But it's not really my fault.” I could hear the lie formulating, so I paced the area in front of the class until he got it together. Before he could speak, I said it for him. “Let me guess. You went to the wrong class?” I smiled.

“No, I had an emergency.” He looked away. “There was a message from my mom in the main office. I had to call her at work.” He continued. “It was an emergency.”

“All right.” I wanted to laugh. “Not a problem, Theodore. I'm laying down my rules today, but they officially go into effect tomorrow.” I softened my look. “So you're off the hook today.”

“Thank you.” He flashed those pearly whites again.

“Thank
you
.” Then I remembered. “Oh, and by the way, watch your language when you're in my classroom.” Not only was he late, but he came in cursing.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” He played up to me. “It won't happen again, teach.”

“Good.” I took a deep breath as I walked over to the board and wrote my e-mail address. “As all of you know, my name is Ms. Paige Patrick. I will be your English teacher for this school year.” I pointed at the board. “This is my e-mail address. Use this for any homework questions you may have outside of regular school hours, and also for online assignments that you will have throughout the course of the year.” I continued. “I am thirty-two years young, and this is my sixth year here at West Dade High.” I took a breath and went on. “I am divorced.” I let students know about my divorce right off the bat. Why? Because many of them were still under the impression that I was married to Craig, and they knew that he was a ho. “I have no children or pets. My favorite color is black, and my hobbies include dancing, reading, going to the movies, and swimming. I spent my summer with friends and also used it to help me get in better shape.” I looked around the room then walked over to the latecomer's seat. “Theodore, since you were the last one to sit down, let's hear from you first. Introduce yourself to the class.”

“Ah, man,” he sighed and mumbled a bit before standing.

When he stood next to me, I was a tad intimidated. He sprung up over a foot above my head. I skimmed over many newspaper articles about Theodore Lakewood, the basketball player from West Dade, but I had only seen him from a distance. Though he had a very handsome and boyish face, there was nothing else boyish about him. He was built like a man at least twenty-five years old. Breathtaking! They didn't make boys that size when I was in high school. I stepped away from him, walked over to my desk, and gave orders.

“When you're done, pick someone else, and then that person goes and selects someone else, and so on and so forth until everyone has had a turn.”

As Theodore spoke to the class, I drifted miles away. I went over my introduction fifty times in my head and wished that I had the opportunity to say more, but this wasn't quite the audience that I needed to vent to. I thought about what I really wanted to say.

Yes, I used to be married to that whore basketball coach, Coach Johnson. I met him seven years ago when I was twenty-five, and married him just a few months later. We were
happily
married for two years and in misery for three.

 

 

I tuned back right in time to hear what the last student had to say. “My name is Angela Porter. I'm eighteen, I'm a cheerleader, and I hope to go to the University of Central Florida. I have two dogs, and my favorite color is blue.”

“Great.” I stood up. “Thank you all for the wonderful introductions.” I glanced at the clock. I had about a minute left with them. “Our focus this school year will be putting together everything you've learned about the English language from kindergarten through last year. We will be doing a lot of writing in this class.” I could hear their young minds shutting down. “Many of you have heard that I'm mean, that I'm hard, and that I give a lot of work. But the truth is that I want you all to succeed in life. I want you to not be worried when you make it to college or into the workforce. I want you to be prepared.”

I was far from the mean, sexually frustrated, fat woman they thought I would be. “This is going to be a wonderful school year.” I was now a laid back but still sexually frustrated size eight. The bell rang. “I'll see you all tomorrow.” Within forty seconds, the classroom was empty and the first day of school was just a memory. I kicked off my heels and erased the chalkboard.

My classroom door opened and in sauntered Doran, known by the students as Mr. Bess, the new math teacher. Doran was no stranger to me, though. We met at the gym over the summer, and I was delighted that such an attractive brother would be joining this dreary faculty.

“Well, we made it through the first day, Paige.” He smiled.

“Barely,” I joked.

“It wasn't so bad.” He smiled again.

“Speak for yourself,” I said as he lowered himself onto the chair at my desk.

Doran and I met at The Fitness Stop about a month and a half ago. I was on the Stairmaster when he walked in and struggled to get his machine working. I was tempted to laugh at his frustration, but instead helped him reset the instrument. Side by side we did our cardiovascular exercise and talked. I learned that he was new in the South Florida area, just in from Memphis, Tennessee. When he mentioned being a teacher, we discovered that we'd be working at the same school.

We exchanged cellular phone numbers for the sole purpose of informing each other if something came up and we couldn't make it to The Stop. I'd only had to call him twice: once when I had the flu and couldn't get out of bed, the other time when I had forgotten that my parents would be in town from Minneapolis for the weekend.

“You sure got out of your classroom in record time.” I continued erasing the board and looked over at the clock. The bell had only rung four minutes ago.

“Sixth is my planning period.” He studied me, and his look said more than
You're my workout partner and I'm checking out your progress.
A light, satisfactory moan confirmed his approval of my physique as he said, “You're looking real nice, Ms. Patrick.”

I tried not to, but I blushed anyway. “Thank you.” His eyes were still on me. “You're not looking too shabby yourself.” Doran looked delicious enough for me to eat without ketchup, mustard, salt or pepper.

“Thank you.” Then he asked, “Are you working out today?”

“Um.” Doran always left me speechless. He had that Boris Kodjoe thing going on, with paper-bag-brown skin, standing at six foot two or three, medium build, broad shoulders, thick legs, and a panty-dropping voice. And yes . . . I did check out the bulk of his knot while spotting him on the free weight bench. Doran had enough to feed the needy . . . and I considered myself dirt poor and hungry. Forget eating him, I'd swallow him whole, hot and fresh out of the oven. “I don't think I'll be able to go today.” I had no excuse except that seeing him in a suit for the first time was blowing my mind, and I didn't want to say anything foolish.

“Aw.” He sounded disappointed. “I was going to take it easy on you today.”

“Take it easy on me?” I turned toward him. “I'm the last person that you need to take it easy on and you know it.” Other than preparing for the students in our classrooms over the past week, we had never seen each other outside of The Stop. “I just can't go today, but you know that I can handle it.”