MY HOT TEACHER: (Volume 5 of the "My Hot..." series; a stand-alone, New Adult novel) (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

That’s right.  This is life.  This is college living.  Everything isn’t meant to be perfect.  So what if my suspicions are confirmed.  Life will go on!

I tell myself this as the dreaded Thursday arrives and I bundle up with parka, hat, and scarf in preparation for the bike ride to Echo Lane.

Yet there’s something strangely appealing about
not knowing
versus
knowing for sure
.

Seriously, if Katia wasn’t physically between the bed and me, maintaining a close proximity that slowly but surely edges me toward the door, I might just toss off the parka and dive head first onto the mattress...and yes, probably cry.

Knowing for sure
could mean the end.

“You can do this,” is the last thing Katia says as I step out into the hallway and she closes the dorm room door behind me.

It’s 9:30pm.  I will get to the Professor’s by 9:45.  If he’s as truly obsessive and compulsive about his schedule and timing as we think he is this would mean that whoever it might be is already there and the Professor will be balls deep in whatever’s going on.

I could’ve arrived early to observe who arrives, or wait until eleven to see who leaves, but that isn’t enough.

I need to verify who it is and exactly what’s happening and why does he like this person more than me?

My plan is to climb the back fire escape ladder to his bedroom window for a quick peek of confirmation.

This spying, this violation of his space on a night that’s no longer mine could definitely spell doom. 

But what do I have, something like eighteen hours left with him?

As I bike the familiar journey I acknowledge that this isn’t simply about maintaining the quality of my remaining Tuesdays.  I can’t help feeling that whatever happens tonight, one way or the other, will give me some insight into who he really is and whether he can ever love me back.

I get off my bike about a half block from his house and walk it the rest of the way, careful not to make any noise.  I guide it to the usual hidden spot in the back of the house.

My smartphone buzzes.

Katia’s text:
U go girl!

I just want to collapse onto the snow and text back that, after her, the Professor is the best thing that has ever happened to me and I’m so afraid I’m going to fuck it up.

It’s so obvious this is a simple hook up for him...whether there’s someone else or not. 

Why am I so intent on making it more than it is?

Why can’t I just accept our Tuesdays, accept the great leaps forward he has helped me make and move on?

Perhaps because sex just isn’t enough right now.

Perhaps because the sincerity of his tender words during some of our lovemaking cannot be faked.

Perhaps because the depth of some of the emotions that seep through during our most intense times cannot be ignored no matter how hard he works to keep it a superficial connection.

So instead of plopping down and getting my ass all wet I tip-toe up the metal ladder.

The light’s on in the bedroom.  The bed faces the window.  I take a deep breath, press my face against the cold glass, peer in.

What I see takes my breath away.

Somehow I manage not to rasp or wheeze or alarm anyone with a deep exhalation of shock.

It is Sharon!

She is there.  Completely naked.  Riding him.

The Professor is on his back.  Completely naked.

She looks so sexy, her long thick hair down and bouncing on her shoulders in synchronized rhythm with her perfect breasts.

Sharon slaps him hard across the face.

She twists both his nipples with force until he screams.

She rakes her long Catwoman nails across his chest.

She spits on his mouth.

Though her English is perfect she retains a bit of Thai accent as she yells, “You’re giving me an A+ aren’t you, dirty boy?  You’re lucky I even let you look at me!”

I know for sure that Sharon doesn’t need to do this to get an A+ and that it’s all just a sex game.

For the Professor isn’t simply on his back.  He’s tied spread eagle with rope, like a giant human X: wrists out to the headboard, ankles to the corner knob of the footboard.  And he doesn’t respond verbally to Sharon’s abuse because her red panties are stuffed into his mouth.  But what’s the most startling...

I see a very familiar look on the Professor’s face.

It’s a demeanor I remember seeing reflected off his mirror,
on my own features
, while I road him in the reverse cowgirl position as he spurred me on.

It’s the intense, ecstatic, completely
vulnerable
expression of a total Sub.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

How can I compete with an Asian beauty with big boobs who is super smart and knows how to control men?

There’s no use pretending I’m managing this setback as I burst through my dorm room door straight into Katia’s arms. 

No tears.

Just numb.

I explain that it
is
Sharon and I saw her dominating the Professor and what’s even worse is that he was completely vulnerable to her in a way he has never been with me.  I add that the Professor told me that one needs to be vulnerable before finding love.

Which means he probably loves Sharon!

There’s no chance I’ll ever be able to please him again!

Katia tries to calm me down. 

“He obviously cares about you.  He still wants to be with you.  Look how hard he tried to satisfy you last time.”

“He knows I can’t handle a break up.  I hyper-ventilated last time before he even finished telling me!  He gave back one day out of pity, but it probably has never been the same as it was last semester.  It’s over.  Totally.”

For the first time Katia has nothing more to say.  She collapses back on my bed.  No attempt to create rosy images that proves things aren’t so bad.  No litany of lines illustrating how great or how hot or how strong or how together I really am.

Which proves Sharon got the better of us both.

Which makes it obvious how
over
this thing really is.

“Come home with me tomorrow,” says Katia, knowing it’s the beginning of my spring break, intuiting it’s best that I get away from all of this for awhile.  “We’ll have more time together, you’ll see your parents, you can take some time off and sort this shit out.”

I planned to stay on campus, finish up some term papers, and enjoy an additional Tuesday with the Professor.

But she’s right.  I nod my head in agreement.

After we brush our teeth, Katia slips into bed while I crawl into the sleeping bag on the floor.  Just before we pass out from emotional exhaustion Katia says, “Seems like no one wants to be Christian, just a lot of Anas.”

My mom picks us up at the Bethesda bus station.  We drop Katia off at her house where she’ll spend time with her parents until she takes the bus to Philly on Sunday.  She lives less than a mile from me.  I give her the biggest hug I can and I get the same in return.

I say, “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me.  You’re the absolute best!”

“Ditto,” says Katia as she hugs me even tighter.

By the time I arrive to my house we’ve exchanged four text messages.

I give my dad a kiss and a hug then hit my bed for a good fourteen hour snooze.

I awake woozy and hungry.  I reach for my phone and text the Professor:
went home for break

I don’t know what else to say.

I don’t know what else to do.

How can I be in his bed again knowing Sharon has been there, knowing what intimacy has gone on between them?

I eat breakfast at lunchtime.  I’m not in the mood to do homework.  But I don’t want to sit around and obsess over the Professor either. 

I text:
home 4 break, wanna hang out?

I’m sure I won’t hear back.

pick u up at 8

If anyone can distract me from the current fiasco, Randy can.

He’s actually on time.

I rule out the mall, indoor mini golf, and the sports bar.  We decide to eat at the Bethesda Diner.  Everyone seems to know him there as well.  The chef even comes out to say hi.  Randy points out their state championship team photo from senior year hanging on the wall behind the cash register.  He’s shocked to discover that I never attended one game.

He fills me in on how the renovation is going with his roadster, a summer camping trip to Canada he’s planning with his buddies, and how soon he’ll be a full partner in the business.

I tell him I’m waiting to hear from grad schools.

“More school!” says Randy.  “I don’t know how you handle it.”

“Neither do I.”

We both laugh.

After dinner we get into his pick-up.  Easy to predict, he steers it toward Freehold Canyon.  A few cars are there but we find a prime spot.  He shuts the ignition.  We both lean back in our seats.  It seems he’s just about ready to ask if he can kiss me when I blurt, “Is it okay if we just talk?”

“No prob.”

A very long minute passes before Randy finally says, “After you were home Christmas I asked a few of my buddies if they remember you from high school and most didn’t.  Ran into my old girlfriend, Mary Lou, you remember her, she was captain of the cheerleaders?”

“Mousy blond hair, too heavy on the blue eye shadow, bit of a slut.”

He can’t help laughing.  “Yeah, that’s her.  She remembered you, said you were the biggest nerd in the school, something about a locker.”

“She and her fellow cheerleaders stuffed me in one.”

“At first I thought she was mistaken but she pointed you out in the yearbook.”

“So my cover’s blown.  I’m not cool at all.”

“Well, truthfully, that’s what she said and I told her she was full of it.  She always was, but I didn’t say that.  I told her you were way cool and that I never liked the shit she and her girlies pulled.”

“Really?”

“You know how there’s all this stuff out now about bullying.  I realized that we all were, the jocks, the cheerleaders, although I wasn’t as bad as her.  But we probably made a lot of people miserable.”

“You never bothered me one way or the other.”

“I was too immature to appreciate someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“You’re just you.  No bullshit.  I know you don’t give a shit that I was a star quarterback in high school yet you still want to hang out.”

“I never had a handle on what it takes to be cool.”

“I’m over it.  I enjoy some of the old attention now and then but being a great high school athlete will get me nowhere.  I have a great opportunity with my old man.”

“I’m happy for you.  Not too many people our age know what they want.”

There’s another long silence.  I don’t know what to do.  I like being with him, talking like this.  But he’s probably expecting something to happen.  We’re at Freehold Canyon!

“Trouble with your boyfriend?” asks Randy.

“How did you guess?’

“Psychic.”

I smile.

“I’m not sure what he wants,” I say, “where it’s going.  Honestly, I haven’t had enough relationship experience to understand what I want from him, or exactly how I feel about him.”

“Who has?”

“If you don’t, then who does?”

“I had a lot of sex in high school, but not many relationships.  I’m just starting to figure out what I’m looking for.”

“Which is?

“Someone to settle down with, start a family.  Someone cool.  Someone who coming home from work to is a good thing.”

“You always seem to have a plan.”

“That’s one thing a quarterback always needs,” he says with a grin.

“That stuff seems way off for me.  I’m just trying to figure out what kind of relationship I want, what will really satisfy me and make me happy.”

“Do you think this guy can make you happy?”

“He already has.  In a lot of ways.  Big time.  He’s wonderful.  But I just don’t know if there could be more, should be more.  I don’t have enough experience to figure it all out.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

He touches my hand. 

I’m sure he’s remembering my smokin’ blowjob.

“I love great sex, but I want more,” I say.

“I guess there’s lots of trial and error before you can figure things out.”  He removes his hand.  “For me, all through high school it was about getting a scholarship to a division I school.  Senior year I visited a ton and got some decent offers and had some great times.  But I really didn’t have the heart for more studying, which would make college just like high school...playing ball.  I had enough of that and it was time to move on.”

“I wish I knew if it’s time to move on.”

There’s another long silence.

Finally he says, “I’m perfectly fine if we don’t do anything.  Don’t get me wrong.  I really enjoyed last time and maybe I wasn’t at my best, because you, you were--”

“On fire!”

He grinned.  “Precisely.  Though I was kind of pissed you blew me off.  Not used to that.”

“I certainly am.  But you deserved better.  I just didn’t know what to say.  I like you, but I’m not ready to be sleeping with someone else.”

“I understand.”

“I actually think you do, which, truthfully, surprises me.”

“I think all the pre-conceived notions everyone had in high school was all bullshit.  It just got in the way of getting to know what was behind the bullshit.”

I smile.  “You know you’re pretty smart.”

“You see, everyone thought I was just a dumb jock, but I actually got offered academic scholarships as well.”

“And who would’ve thought that Celine the nerd turned out to be such a sex kitten?”

Randy laughs.  “Well I have to agree, but I hope someday, when you’re single, that I get another chance to verify that.”

I give his hand a touch now.

He backs out of the spot then drives toward my house.

He pulls into my driveway, puts the pick-up into Park.  He looks at me.

“Great hanging out with you, Celine.  If you want to do it again before going back just send me a text.  In the meantime I hope everything works out with this guy.”

“Me, too.”

“At least until you’re home for the summer.”

I laugh.

“You’re a great girl,” he adds.  “Just stay positive.  As Coach always said:
for every problem there’s a solution
.”

I lean up on my knees and kiss him gently on the cheek.

For the rest of the week we hang out almost everyday, but I still do all of the work necessary to keep my current 4.0 in every class. 

I receive an acceptance to almost every grad school I applied to, some with fellowships to cover my cost, including UNH.

The more I get to know Randy, the more I learn how difficult life has been for him: growing up without a mom, overcoming a major leg injury his sophomore year.  Yet he developed the skill set to find the solutions his coach talked about, to overcome any insecurities, to go after all he wanted, to continue to move forward in an effort to fulfill his goals. 

Has he fulfilled them all?

No.

But he certainly seems to have a plan.

I realize that much of this school year has been about trying to have my own plan: my first kiss with the Professor, my willingness to open myself up to experiencing him fully, the way I fought for him after Christmas break.

But watching Sharon ride my beloved teacher, inspiring in him an emotion I haven’t come close to seeing sent me right back to being the invisible high school girl who was sure there was only friend in the world who liked her.

But Randy likes me for being me.  And the Professor, despite his bathroom door shutting, his rejection, his choice of another, has made me feel desired, liked, for who I am.

The old me might simply float through the remaining weeks of college as best as I can, hoping my next stage in life sees the fulfillment of what I need. 

The old me might run without confronting my situation, the way I did after being spurned by Roland.  I should’ve told him a long time ago most of what Katia said to him on the campus green.  I accepted his rejection because maybe I believed I wasn’t worthy of his love.

But I feel worthy of the Professor’s love.  I’ve invested so much emotion in him.

Why can’t he give me more in return?

Every lock has its key.  And as Coach said,
every problem has its solution
.

I don’t know what my solution is.

But I just can’t retreat, disappear, accept defeat, or postpone my efforts forward.

I want it now!

So I’m not sure what’s going to happen when I return to Walls.

But I do know—even if it’s for the very last time—that I will keep my usual Tuesday night appointment.