Lynne's Love Triangle (12 page)

Light-headed and over the moon with pleasure, Lynne squealed and groaned and whimpered. Kurt made as much noise. Her ass squeaked against the top of her oak desk every time he drove his cock into her.

Kurt grasped her legs and pulled her to the edge of the desk. He put her legs over his shoulders and shoved his cock as deep as possible.

She loved the feel of his balls banging against her anus and told him so in no uncertain terms. “God, oh, God, oh, God. More, Kurt. More, more, moorrree.”

“Here it comes, babe. Hang on,” Kurt growled. His whole body shook, and he came with the power of a volcano.

Lynne put her hand over her mouth and bit down hard to keep from screaming.

“Oh, God, woman, you are so damn hot.” Kurt collapsed against her and nuzzled her neck.

“Glad you think so.” She caressed the back of his neck. He was damp with perspiration.

“Uh, you’re going to have to move, Kurt. Someone could walk in at any minute. I can’t afford to lose my job.”

“Oh, hell.” Kurt groaned. His cock slipped out of her and left a wet trail behind.

Lynne grabbed her box of tissues and cleaned up as best she could before handing him more tissues. “Hurry, please.”

“Okay, okay.” Kurt wiped off as best he could and yanked up his boxers and jeans. He found his shirt and quickly buttoned it.

Lynne jumped off her desk and yanked on her clothes. She ran her hands through her hair. It was probably a royal mess.

“Comb your hair, cowboy, and get the smirk off your pretty face.”

“Can’t help it, Lynne. You’re the best...”

“Best what? Fuck?”

“Being a little harsh, aren’t you?”

“Well, that’s the way you made me feel.”

“Look, Lynne,” Kurt frowned as he tucked his shirt into his jeans and zipped them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. If you want to know the truth, I don’t like you sleeping with Troy without me there.”

Kurt put his hands on his hips, widened his stance, and growled. “I don’t want you to see him anymore.”

“You mean Troy? You can’t control me, Kurt.”

“Oh yeah? Believe it or not, I wasn’t trying to control you. We’ve been together for years. I thought when we brought Elvis home with us, it would only be one time.” He swept his dark hair away from his face, and when he dropped his hands she could see the anguish in his eyes.

“I want you back, Lynne. I want it to be just us again.”

“It’s never been just us and besides, Troy fills a hole I’ve had in my life for a long time.” She shuffled her skirt and stepped into her shoes.

“Hell, I have a hole in my heart, and you put it there, lady. I have needs, too, Lynne, but you don’t seem to be thinking about me.”

She’d never meant to hurt him. She loved Kurt. She’d loved him for years. How was she supposed to know he felt the same way about her? He’d never hinted she was more than a friend.

“Where are you going?” He was leaving for what? Jealousy? How could he expect her to choose—no, force her to choose between them?

“Damn it, Lynne, I’m going home. I should be more than enough man for you.”

It was too much. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to get caught up in the moment, but she wanted to hurt him as much as he was hurting her. Her painful emotions lashed out in her words. “Well, I hate to tell you, big guy, but you’re not.”

The pain in his eyes told her she had wounded more than his pride. The door slammed, and the racket stabbed her through the chest and straight through her heart.

* * * *

Lynne picked up a butternut squash from the shelves, looking it over for bruises or blemishes. It was a requirement for tonight’s curry soup she was making for her date night with Kurt. It had been three days since she had seen him last. She’d left a dozen messages on his answering machine before he’d agreed to come for dinner. She was making his favorite dinner, hoping it would help heal the chasm separating them since the argument.

“Hey, I know you!” She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to face a bald man smiling broadly at her.

He didn’t look familiar at all. Unable to place his face, she frowned.

“You do?” she asked totally confused.

“Yeah, I am one of your biggest fans. Can I get your picture? Hey, Jay, take my picture please!” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a camera, handing it to his friend, a pimple-faced college kid who didn’t look over a year past those awkward teen years.

Not wanting to disappoint the man she muttered, “I guess.”

He slung an arm over her shoulders, and she posed with him and her butternut squash plastering a smile on her face. His friend clicked a picture, but she couldn’t stop her mind from wondering.

Who did he think she was? Nashville was a hub for the music industry. She saw big name country stars in public all the time. She just never had the cojones to approach any of them. But she wasn’t a singer or a member of any band. She wasn’t even a back-up singer.

She was always just one of the crowd. Nothing special. And she really didn’t think she looked like any country singer, but if he did, it was a compliment. Most of them had make-up artists and hair stylists on staff. Primped and pampered to look their best. Looking good even when the paparazzi managed to snag an impromptu picture.

It wasn’t good to deceive the man, but she hated to mess up his fantasy. On the other hand, she couldn’t keep up this façade. It wasn’t right.

“I think you might be mistaken.”

“No, I’d recognize you anywhere. You have the sweetest face.”

She blushed under his attention, but waited for him to continue.

“That long, wavy hair. Those long, sexy legs of yours, but even if I forgot all of that, your beauty mark gives you away.”

“Okay…I just can’t remember you. Do I know you from the college or something?” She took one long sweeping look from first one man to the other. She had no clue who they were, but they both seemed to recognize her. Excited to see her. As if she were some kind of celebrity. Which she wasn’t. “Church?”

“Are you shitting me? Not a chance.”

“Then what?” She asked impatiently. She had to get home and start dinner.

“The Internet,” he supplied as if she should know.

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, hoping he would expand on those thoughts.

“Elvis?”

Oh God. He did not just say “Elvis?” How could he know about their night of passion?

Her knees trembled as her blood shot from her brain to her toes.

“Your video?” The stranger’s forehead wrinkled.

He knew. But, how?

She was going to be sick. Her stomach twisted into knots. The butternut squash dropped from her hands with a loud thump and rolled across the floor. “I have to go.”

The man grabbed her arm, and Lynne wanted to gag. “I didn’t mean to offend you,” he offered by way of apology.

“Don’t worry about it.” This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. How could he know about her private life? Her most intimate moments and fantasies. It’s not like she shared them with anyone except her lovers, and she certainly didn’t upload it to the Internet.

“I just meant to say you’re hot.” The man wouldn’t shut up.

She shook her head wishing they would go away.

His friend punched him in the arm. “That’s no way to treat a lady.” He turned to Lynne. “What he meant to say is it’s nice to see a woman in touch with her sexuality.”

“Yeah, and if you ever want to get together, we could—”

Lynne didn’t wait around to find out what he meant. The last thing she was interested in was a proposition to have sex with him and his friend. This was the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to her in her life. Hopefully, this was just a one-time event. The man was a pervert. A whack job. It’s not like everyone in the world had seen her homemade porn video, and she could hide her shame. If she didn’t let on, she could keep the world in the dark.

She left her cart in the middle of the aisle and ran out of the store, seeking solace in her car. She slammed and locked the door.

Her hands shook on the steering wheel. She was a bundle of raw nerves. She didn’t want to deal with anyone or see anyone right now. Just go into hiding, but she knew sooner or later she would have to.

Just not tonight. She pulled out her cell phone and texted Kurt, then turned off her cell phone. She didn’t care if he replied or not.

Sorry. Gotta cancel tonight. Talk later. Lynne.

* * * *

Lynne smoothed back a few stray strands of her hair into the bun at the back of her head. She worked hard on the matronly transformation. No one would mistake her for anything but a college professor now. That or a librarian.

She pushed the black-rimmed glasses back up her nose before reaching for the door to her classroom. All the morning conversation and good-natured laughter abruptly ceased. The boys at the front of the class turned to face her attentively. Hands clasped before them.

She scanned the class and was a little surprised to find the class seemed to be made up of men. That was kind of weird, but they seemed too eager to be here.

What a change this was from the usual freshmen in her class. English 101 was usually full of people who could barely tolerate literature but were forced to take the class for their degree. Sure, there was always the rare student who really loved the written word. A journalism major or a kid who always had a book in her hand, but those students were far too few. Usually they landed in the literature classes or the Honors English class.

Thud.

The sound of her books hitting her desk echoed in the quiet room. She looked around the room nervously. Wondering if she had managed somehow to go to the wrong class. Or they did.

It was the first day back to school after the winter break.

She cleared her throat. Making sure even the hardest of hearing would be able to keep up even if they sat in the back row. “Welcome to English 101. My name is Professor Hughes.”

A cheer and kind of grunting noise went up from the young men like she just announced the home team made a touchdown.

She stared at them. She’d never been cheered before. Booed, but never cheered. Something strange was going on. This wasn’t a football game, and in all her years of teaching, she’d never received a hero’s welcome. This group of students was acting pretty strange. She waited for the noise to stop. You’d think she just bared her chest by their reaction not just said her name. “It is a full class, and if you are not registered or on the waiting list, I suggest you leave now. I don’t even have room for anyone to audit this semester. I will not be adding seats.”

A few of the guys standing in the back grunted their disappointment and ambled out the door. Most stayed seated, staring at her across the sea of desks.

Why did she get the feeling they were checking her out? Uncomfortable wasn’t the only thing she was feeling. What were the odds every one of these guys had seen her little sex video online and decided to sign up for her class?

From the looks in their eyes, the odds were not in her favor.

She just didn’t want to know. She wouldn’t ask and force her way through the day. If they didn’t ask, she wouldn’t tell. Tomorrow was another day. If she could just make it until tomorrow. She grabbed the thirty copies of the course outline and began passing them out.

She would find out soon enough if these guys were here to learn, because she had a job to do, and as long as they showed up she planned on teaching them.

“Well it looks like you are all that is left of my class. This course isn’t something you can skate through by simply showing up. There will be writing assignments every week, and this is a basic outline of what your workload will be like.”

Some of these guys looked pretty old to be freshmen. They looked old enough to graduate, which made her wonder if they didn’t just sign up because she was an underground porn sensation.

God, if she ever made it through this day, she was going to die of embarrassment.

* * * *

Lynne opened her email and did a double take. How the hell did she have five hundred emails? Not even the makers of Viagra loved her that much. It could be spam, but she severely doubted it.

She clicked, opened one with no subject, read the first two lines, and stopped.

This wasn’t a regular email. It was more like hate mail.

She clicked again, trying another. And another. It was all the same but with a different sender.

All of it was evil, detailing her–what was now one of the bigger regrets in her life—a sexual escapade she wished she could forget. Parental outrage was the worst. Asking for her resignation. Punishment. College kids asking her for a foursome. Inviting her to their dorm rooms after hours. Lecherous solicitations she would never consider. Unless she was really drunk. Ate the worm at the bottom of the tequila kind of drunk.

Oh God, she was going to die of embarrassment.

What could be more humiliating—more degrading than to have five hundred emails commenting on her sex life?