The Final Lesson Plan (24 page)

"Alright, speedy, what do you have in mind, then?" I asked, teasingly.

"Well, I was going to start with this," he said, kissing my neck. "And maybe, a little of this," he said, covering my chest in light pecks.

"That is a great start," I said, enjoying his little game. "What would you do after that?"

"I'd unbutton these," he admitted, as he began to unbutton my shirt, slowly. "Then, I'd open it up, like this," he said, exposing my bra.

Leo's game went on pretty much like until I'd experienced two incredible orgasms, leaving me breathless and pleased. Feeling guilty and selfish, I kissed his chest, licking a slow tantalizing trail down his stomach. As I reached for the waistband of his boxers, he put his hand on mine, and said, "Doll, I hate this, but I've got to leave. Getting to the airport is going to be Hell at this time of day. I better get going now."

Smiling at him, and not wanting to be diverted, I winked and said, "Give me three minutes, this won't take long."

I reached for his underwear again, and he said, "I'm sorry, but I really do have to go." He sat up, and kissed me on my forehead. "I promise, next time, I won't have to go. You can spend all night in my arms."

When he got up and grabbed his shirt and tie, I was speechless. Leo was bailing on me again. I knew he had to pick up a client, but everyone had a few minutes to spare, especially when they were going to be a few wonderfully climatic minutes.

"Leo, what's going on?" I asked, pulling my blankets up over my chest, feeling hurt and too exposed.

"Going on with what?" he asked, feigning innocence, unconvincingly.

"Start talking, Leo," I commanded. "Last week, out in the pool, you didn't have time. You needed to get home to Megan. I got that. Made perfect sense." He pulled on his pants and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking away from me. "Then, the other day at your house…houses…you wouldn't let me touch you at all. You said, 'it's all about you, Janelle.' I liked that. It was flattering," I admitted. I crawled over to face him, forcing him to look at me. "But today, this doesn't make sense. You're…You're avoiding me. Evading me and my advances," I accused. "Why?"

"I'm not. I have to…I'm just—"

"No lies, Leo. Be honest," I said, pleading with him.

"Janelle, I'm sorry. I just can't do it," he admitted, running his hands through his hair, looking away.

"Can't do what? Can't get it—"

"No…no that. It's extremely functional," he said.

"I know that; I felt that," I said. "So what's the deal?"

"I waited a long time Janelle…a long time to have sex. I wanted it to be special, mean something," he said, grabbing my hand. "And it did. It so did."

"Okay…so?" I wanted him to give me every last thought in his head, not hold anything back.

"I want to be with you. I mean really with you. If a little fooling around is all I get, then that's fine for now," he explained. Turning toward, pulling me closer to him, he said, "I love pleasing you. Making you happy. When we're together, it's perfect—everything I've ever dreamed about."

"But?" I knew there was a "but." Typically, people didn't monologue-compliment someone unless some giant Sir Mix-a-Lot "but" was coming.

"But…(see, told you)…I can't make love to you, share that intimacy with you, if I know that you're gonna be sharing that with him tomorrow…or Wednesday…or any day for that matter. I can't play like that."

"Leo, but you knew—"

"I knew what he was going to do…what you were going to do with him, but I also know that I can't be a part of that," he confessed. Standing up and grabbing his tie, "I agreed to the contract, because…because…I could get a few more weeks with you. But I also knew the morning I saw Briggs at your house…I knew that I wasn't having sex with you again…until you were mine. Completely and totally mine; I won't share you like that."

"But that was before you even signed the contract. That doesn't make sense. How is what we did here…what we did at your house…in the pool…any different?" I asked, needing to get to the bottom of this, the heart of everything he was saying.

"Like I said, it gives me pleasure to please you; I love it. But my ultimate pleasure comes from knowing that I'm the only want who gets to do that," he replied. "I won't sacrifice my convictions just because you are almost too incredibly sexy to turn down. I can be stronger than that. When I first made love to you, I didn't know…or even think…that you'd go back to him. When you did, I vowed not to…not to cave on how I felt or what I wanted."

He knelt down on the floor, looking me in the eye. "And I haven't caved or changed my mind. I want you—only you. That's not going to change," he said. "I really need to go though. Work's been so great about Megan and everything. I can't just skip out on a client and dinner. I'm sorry Janelle. I'll see you Thursday."

Leo grabbed my hand and pulled me up off the bed. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me close to him, securing me tightly against him. No matter how close he held me, I felt a million miles away from him, more distant than I knew was possible. In the past month, Leo had become a part of me, a crucial part of me. I believed that we were bonded: emotionally, intellectually, and sexually. Now, I felt worlds away from him. I hadn't even realized that the time Leo and I'd slept together was the only time we ever actually had. For some reason, I'd felt like Leo and I had been sexually connected forever. Nearly every second I spent with Briggs, we were having sex or about to have sex or just done having sex. Briggs was sex, raw, carnal, hot sex. Leo'd made love to me a grand total of two times, yet I felt like he'd always been a part of my sexuality. How could that be?

Char and I decided to spend the morning getting ready for Briggs' birthday. She dragged me all over town, so I could buy sexy lingerie, a birthday gift, and a cute outfit to wear that night. Sometimes, she was out of control. She was on a spending spree, too, buying something at every store we stopped in. I guess she really was blowing through her
"bigger boobies" stash.

I actually went entirely out of my comfort zone and bought a sexy little costume instead of the lingerie. We'd gone to an adult store, and there were these trampy, but adorable referee costumes on the clearance rack. I couldn't resist, knowing the football player would enjoy penalizing me all night long in the end zone. I was thinking like a dirty whore; obviously it was Briggs' day. The birthday boy certainly brought out the trollop in me, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

I'd texted Briggs earlier in the day to tell him that he didn't have to plan our date night; I had everything I needed to give him a fun and memorable 24
th
birthday. Briggs' plan was to spend the morning with Tate, hanging out and brotherly bonding. He'd said that he and Tate were in a better place. Obviously, Briggs worried about him, but was treating him more like a valued brother than like his scum-of-the-earth kid brother. I guess that was a start.

Briggs told his parents what was going on, and they'd apparently put a shorter, much more durable leash on Tate. Supposedly, Tate was angry and reluctant, but Briggs thought he actually secretly liked the strict attention and sturdier barriers. My plan was to enlist Tate's help in the fall as a student aide during his free periods, so I could keep a closer eye on him and connect with him on a friendly level, hoping to deter him from future poor choices.

Since the day before was my "day off" from my boy-toy fun, I'd spent the majority of it trying to figure out what I wanted to do for Briggs. I even Googled "fun dates," but didn't get much there. I needed to use my own creative juices to get Briggs' juices flowing. I had a few tricks up my sleeve, but felt a little funny carrying them out. I knew that I wanted to be an uninhibited little tart, but the wholesome rule-follower inside me often reared her bashful, remorseful head.

Char and I swung by the mall to buy an outfit for the night. Char convinced me to buy white skinny jeans, which I was reluctant to do, because I was beginning to think my ass and thighs were getting much too large for skinny jeans. She disagreed, and so did the adorable, twig-like, perky little sales girl. She couldn't have weighed more than 101 pounds; I wanted to stick her in my pocket and give her to Tate as a gift for good behavior. She was totally adorable. Anyway, I caved and bought the white skinny jeans. I fell in love with a bright emerald green halter-top with an empire waist. The flowy shirt made me feel better about the tightie-whitie jeans. I wanted to buy green flat, gladiator sandals, but Char wouldn't hear of it. Using the competitive card, she said that if I took Briggs to Cleveland, then I needed to look hotter than all the skanky ass whores, who were going to be drooling all over him. That did it. I bought the dangerously high white and green striped wedges she'd insisted upon.

"Why're we going here?" she asked, when we entered the Indians' Team Shop at the mall.

"I'm not wearing green…or even those heels…to a baseball game," I explained.

"Why the fuck—frick—why the frick not?" she asked, clearly upset with this decision.

"Frick? Really?" I asked, scoffing at her and her choice of word correction. "Because, that's just weird. I need my Tribe gear. I'll change after the game into the sexy shit. I promise."

"Whatevs. I just don't get why you can't be sexy all night?" she asked, cringing at the red t-shirt I was buying for myself, and the blue one I decided to buy for Briggs too.

As we were arguing over the ridiculousness or rationality of choosing to wear Indians clothes to a Tribe game, we heard, "You should be ashamed of yourself, young lady."

Turning around, an overweight woman in her early to mid-50s was staring at us. Char and I glanced back and forth at each other, not knowing what she was talking about or to whom she was talking.

"You," she said, pointing at me. "I read about you…Professor Pedophile…the way you prey on your young impressionable male students. You're a disgrace to the teaching profession. I cannot believe—"

"Shut the mother fuck up or I will rip your goddamn tongue out of your judgmental, bitchy ass mouth," Char screamed, drawing a great deal of unwanted attention over to us. "You know nothing, but pass judgment on everything,"

I grabbed at Char's arm to pull her out of the store, but she shoved me away. Charlene continued, as her voice carried, and she built up a giant mouthful of spiteful anger. She was a powder keg about to explode. "Just because your husband hasn't bothered to hacksaw his way through your cobweb-coated cooter to fuck you in over a decade doesn't mean…does not fucking mean…you can accost my friend in a store."

Pointing at Char, closing in on her, the lady said, "Listen here you little sluts, you will not—"

Batting the woman's hand out of the way, she said, "No you listen…and you listen good, because I'm only going to say it once. You don't know her, have never even met her. This girl would do anything for her students; she's the teacher you dreamed your kids could have. Ya know why?"

Horrified, the lady started to back away and turn her back on Char, but Char circled around to face her again. "Oh I'm not done, not even close, lady. You started this; you will listen, while I fucking finish it. My friend, she actually cares about her students, not just their damn schoolwork or their grades. She cares about their lives, their futures, their happiness."

Char put down her purse, forcing the lady to back up, probably afraid Char was going to hit her. "For nine months…nine months…out of the fucking year, I lose my friend, because she devotes all of her time and her energy to those kids. Ya know why? Because people like you spend too much time worrying about what everybody else in this world is doing and not what your fucking kids are doing."

At this point, the woman had heard enough and began to leave the store, only infuriating and firing Char up more. As she was exiting the store, Char followed her, yelling loudly, "Your kids, they're out getting high, getting drunk, getting abortions, and bullying kids into suicide, while you sit your lazy, fat, sex-deprived asses at home finding new ways to ridicule and hurt the lives of those around you. So go fuck yourself…go fuck your husband…or just go fuck off…and leave us…and everyone else the fuck alone. You ugly fucking cunt-rock." Applause erupted throughout the store, stopping Char in her tracks. She looked around, somewhat bewildered. Oftentimes, when Char was on a roll, she forgot her surroundings and sometimes her overall purpose.

Char stormed fiercely back over to me, raging like a lunatic. "I cannot fucking believe—"