Absolute Beginners (Absolute #1) (7 page)

“Would you like a sandwich?” she asked, putting hers down on the nightstand. “I was just going to watch some TV before I crash. You’re welcome to join me.”

“OK, thank you.”

What? I’m staying?

She smiled and walked back into the kitchen. I watched her go, all the while trying to figure when my mouth had developed a mind of its own and started blurting out words at random. To the best of my knowledge it had never happened before, but it seemed to have become a regular occurrence in the past few hours. I sat back down on the bed, flabbergasted and nervous about spending time with Jul—

Ms. Wilde, damn it! Her name is Ms. Wilde, and she is your student!

I had just decided to tell her that I was leaving when she came back in, handing me a soda and a plate with a huge turkey sandwich. It didn’t feel right to leave without eating it since she’d gone through the trouble of making it, so I put the plate in my lap, which was fairly awkward.

“Don’t you have a dining table?” I asked, realizing immediately what an inane question it was since I could clearly see that she didn’t.

“Nope,” she said, while propping pillows up behind her back to sit comfortably against the headboard. “Can you hand me my plate and the remote?”

“Where do you eat your dinner?” I asked after I had gotten myself somewhat situated on the bed. I didn’t know why I was asking her, since I didn’t care what she did outside of the classroom.

“I don’t eat at home a lot,” she said, turning on the TV. “I’m usually at one of my girlfriends’ or out. I’m a pretty shitty cook so it’s probably a good thing.”

I gave my sandwich a dubious glance, but decided that it looked edible. She was already wolfing hers down like she hadn’t eaten in days, which was a pretty interesting thing to watch. She caught me staring at her.

“Sorry,” she said with a grin. “Fucking makes me really hungry.”

Charming
.

“Do you have to call it that?”

“What, fucking? What else would you call it?” she asked, taking another bite.

I didn’t know what to tell her. “Lovemaking” was definitely out of the question and “sex” just sounded so…well, it didn’t sound right. Impersonal, somehow. “Intercourse” was too clinical and then I was pretty much out of options.

“Never mind,” I muttered, taking a bite of my sandwich—which, incidentally, was delicious.

She turned her attention to the TV and didn’t seem interested in talking with me anymore, which bothered me immensely. I may not have been the greatest conversationalist, but I wasn’t a completely lost cause. I hoped she didn’t see me as a mindless moron when it came to small talk.

Why do I even care? I’ll eat the sandwich and go home to where things make sense
.

“This is very good,” I said, trying to get her attention for some unknown reason.

“Thanks,” she said with a quick smile. “Sandwiches and soup are just about all I can manage.”

After a few minutes, she yawned and stretched her arms above her head before getting off the bed. I watched as she carried her plate into the kitchen and then headed into the bathroom. After I finished my sandwich, I decided that it was a good time to get going, since she was obviously headed for bed. I put my plate in the kitchen sink and was surprised to see that it was somewhat tidy, compared to the rest of the place. When I came back out, she was flinging pillows off the bedspread and had turned out most of the lights. Only a few candles flickered across the walls, and I observed her quietly while she readied the bed by taking off the bedspread and turning down the covers. My jaw went slack when she opened her robe and let it drop to the floor. I may have made a sound because she turned around and approached me. Once again I couldn’t stop my eyes from taking in every inch of her naked body. She looked like temptation incarnate.

“Are you staying?” she asked when she stood in front of me, completely unashamed about her nakedness.

“No,” I screeched, before clearing my throat. “No, I—I have to get home.”

“All right,” she said, smiling. “This was fun. I’ll see you in class Friday.”

She gave me a quick peck on the cheek, turned, and walked over to the bed. I watched as she crawled under the covers.

“Good night,” I said.

“Good night,” she said, yawning sleepily again. “Drive safe, Stephen.”

“Thanks, you too,” I answered, then I realized what I’d said.

Get out of here, moron!

She laughed a little and shifted in the bed, moving the covers and revealing her naked breasts again. For a fleeting second I wondered what it might be like to spend the night in her bed. She was warm and soft and smelled nice. I had to admit that it didn’t sound too terrible.

No, don’t even go there
.

“Um, yeah. ’Bye then,” I said ineloquently as I walked over to the door.

I turned to look at her again and she waved at me from the bed. I lifted my hand awkwardly and returned the gesture before I finally stepped outside, closing the door behind me. It shut with a small click, effectively locking me out of her apartment, and I decided that was probably a good thing.

I drove home quickly, anxious to return to a normal place where things once again were organized and sensible, after having spent the night in a place where chaos and disorder ruled. I thought about Ms. Wilde again when I entered my apartment. I wondered what she would think of it: clean surfaces, matching furniture, and a hint of Lysol. She would probably hate it as much as I hated her place. I went to bed, slipping under the cool, crisp white sheets, dressed in my pajamas. As I lay there in my bedroom with its white walls and unadorned bed, my last thoughts before I drifted off to sleep were of a wild girl in a warm, glowing room, lying in a huge monstrosity of a bed, soft and naked under the covers. And in my dreams that night, she wasn’t alone.

The following morning, I did something I had never done before: I overslept. Already running late, I rolled out of bed, groaning when I felt my muscles protest. I hadn’t stretched after my workout the day before and now I was paying for it. I stumbled into the bathroom, going through my daily routine. However, this morning I felt slightly off-kilter. My mind was sluggish, but I wasn’t tired. In fact, I’d slept great, after…

Oh, God. I slept with Ms. Wilde
.

She’d brought me back to her place and practically seduced me. And I had liked it. She’d even managed to infiltrate my subconscious and I now vividly remembered the dream I’d had just before waking—a scene from last night: Ms. Wilde on her knees, pleasuring me orally. But unlike last night, I was the one in control. With her ponytail wrapped around my fingers, I thrust into her mouth while she looked up at me, the expression in her eyes both demure and lustful, practically begging me to dominate her.

Jesus Christ. What is wrong with me?

I started the shower, and shook my head as I stepped underneath the spray. I’d never had the desire to exert power over a woman before, but now I remembered the dream in detail: how, after the oral sex, I taken her roughly from behind while she screamed with pleasure. Clearly, this was a reaction to the sandwich I had eaten at her place. It wasn’t healthy to eat before bedtime and I’d heard that it could cause nightmares. I didn’t have the inclinations portrayed in the dream, and I was positive that Ms. Wilde didn’t either. She obviously liked controlling the situation in the bedroom and my dream version of her was the complete opposite of the woman I had slept with last night.

I slept with my student! My highly annoying, badly dressed, foul-mouthed student!

I banged my forehead against the shower wall, twice.

Ow
.

I rubbed the spot, feeling utterly ridiculous.

I finished up and dried off quickly, hoping that I might shake off the memory of last night by getting back to my regular routine, which included a trip downtown. Usually I would meet Matt for lunch twice a week since I was only on campus three out of five days and he spent most nights out. The sports bar was mostly run by his friend Shawn, which meant that Matt had plenty of time to womanize and have what he considered “a good time.”

I didn’t know why Matt wanted to spend so much time with me since he thought of me as boring, but it probably had something to do with him thinking that I was lonely. I enjoyed my own company, my books, and my TV, but I couldn’t deny that it would be nice to have a lady friend to spend time with, and someday I did want a family of my own. The possibility of that happening seemed less and less likely as the years passed by and I attended the weddings and christenings of my college friends and their families, perpetually alone. Still, I wasn’t one to complain. Solitude had become second nature to me. Even in high school, I had spent most of my nights and weekends on my own. I didn’t fit in anywhere. Branded a nerd because of my glasses and gangly physique, I was welcomed into their ranks, only to discover that I had little interest in role-playing games, the fantasy genre, or computers. I liked reading the classics, listening to my father’s old records, and playing chess, which made me an outcast even among the outcasts. In college and grad school it became a bit easier, and I was thankful for the handful of good friends I made back then, even if I didn’t get to see them very often.

Getting back to the matter at hand, I dressed in one of my usual outfits, shaved and looked at my hair. Matt had said that it looked like I had a combover with the way I usually did it, but it looked strange just sticking out in all different directions. I sighed heavily and decided to leave it as it was. I was sure to get an earful from my brother if I tried to style it in any way.

Half an hour later, when I reached the café, I saw him sitting outside and hurried over.

“Hey, bro, I almost gave up on you,” he said, giving me a strange look. “You’re late, and you’re never late.”

“I know,” I said, sitting down across from him. “Sorry about that, I overslept.”

“
You
overslept?” he asked. “I guess hell just froze over.”

I didn’t offer an explanation. As far as Matt knew, I had gone home before nine last night and I had no convincing lie to tell him.

“Burning the midnight oil?” he asked with a concerned look on his face. “You shouldn’t work so much, Stephen. It’s not good for you.”

I just nodded and looked at my menu.

“Although,” he added, “you
do
look a lot better than yesterday. Either I need glasses, or the vein has mysteriously vanished.”

Reflexively, I touched my forehead and watched as my brother grinned.

“Did you have a nice little session of self-loving after seeing your Ms. Wilde on that table last night?” he asked, making a crude motion with his hand.

“Matt!”

“What?” he shrugged. “It’s not like it’s going to make you blind. There’s nothing wrong with a round of Jack Kerou-whacking to ease a little tension!”

Jack Kerou-whacking?

“I made that one up just for you,” he added with a grin.

I rolled my eyes, although I had to admit that his pun was somewhat clever.

“So, did you?” he asked.

“Are you seriously asking me that? You should know me well enough to realize that I would never answer your question,” I said sourly, hiding my face behind my menu.

“I know. I just like to mess with you. You’re so serious all the time, Stephen. You need a little fun in your life.”

“I have fun,” I said defensively, lowering my menu.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Luckily, the waitress came out to take our orders. I watched as Matt flirted shamelessly with her. She responded with a smile, hitting his shoulder playfully as though they were old friends.

“Do you know her?” I asked him when she left.

“No, but I think I’m going to,” he said, his eyes following her as she walked inside. “Nice ass.”

How can women like a man who says something like that? I don’t understand it at all
.

I had been perfectly polite to the waitress and she had barely looked at me. But Matt had made a suggestive comment about wanting something sweet, and it made her laugh. I really didn’t comprehend those sorts of interactions.

“How can you just talk to women like that?” I asked. “Don’t they ever get offended?”

“No, why would they? I always look for a wedding ring first, and if they’re single, it’s my experience that most girls like a little innocent flirting to brighten their day.”

I supposed that made sense.

“Why do you think your Ms. Wilde is always flirting with you?” he asked. “She’s probably trying to cheer you up a little. Pretty decent of her, if you ask me.”

A terrifying thought popped into my head.

Did she sleep with me because she feels sorry for me? Out of pity?

It seemed plausible. She was young, bizarre, and pretty, and I assumed that guys her age liked that a lot. She had plenty of options to choose from, and she probably could have had her pick of the men at Matt’s bar last night. It made me feel horrible to think that she may have only wanted to be with me as an act of charity, because I was so socially inept.

“Plus, it sounds like she’s into you,” he added, unaware of my inner turmoil.

I hoped that he was right. She had, after all, called me both good-looking and…
what was it? “Insanely hot”? That doesn’t sound like pity. Plus, she did have an orgasm
.

That was important to me. I was thrilled to know that she had enjoyed herself, since it had been the best sex of my life, and I did not want to be selfish in bed. I had just never been with a woman who was so willing to show me how to make her feel good. I never would have figured it out for myself, and I certainly never would have mustered up the courage to ask her.

“Incoming, bro,” Matt stage-whispered across from me, yanking me out of my thoughts.

“What?” I asked.

His eyes were fixed somewhere behind me and, like the idiot I was, I turned and looked to see Ms. Wilde and her two friends from last night, sauntering down the sidewalk in our direction, talking and laughing.