Pieces of Perfect (7 page)

He bent me over slightly, allowing himself better access. With his left hand, he grabbed ahold of himself, slid on a condom, and guided his cock into me, filling me completely. From the field below, there would have been no doubt as to what we were doing. Both naked, my hands above my head, and him driving into me from behind. Unlike my little zoo comment, I didn’t have to wonder if I could be fired for
this
. If anyone caught us, my teaching career would be over. Done. But I didn’t care. My physical need for him outweighed anything else. I couldn’t resist him. And I was done trying. His hard body, his magical fingers, his soft tongue, his thick cock. And his mouth. God, that dirty fucking mouth. I wanted all of him.

He pumped into me. Harder. Faster. And all I wanted him to do was touch me. Rub his hand across my clit and give me the release I needed. “‘We only have a minute left,” I reminded him in between heaving breaths.

“
You’ve
got a minute left. When that buzzer sounds, I’m going to come so fucking hard in you, whether you’re ready or not.”
 

45 seconds. Fuck.
 

“God, I fucking love your hard ass,” he said as he swung my hips more forcefully to meet his. “And your tits
. . . Christ, I’d like to fucking rub my cock between them.”
 

30 seconds.

At last, he gave me what I needed. He reached around to the front of me and began to rub his hand in circles with just the perfect amount of pressure. I felt my orgasm building inside me.
Only ten seconds left.

“Watch the clock,” he commanded as he began counting down, continuing to pound into me. “Ten. Nine. Eight.” He let go of my hands and grabbed my aching breast, kneading it forcefully. “Seven. Six. You’ve only got four seconds left. You better hurry.” We were both faster. More urgent. “Three. Two . . . Now!" He thrust into me twice more, and
my body spasmed uncontrollably as the orgasm ripped through me.  I screamed so loudly that I could barely hear the buzzer sound.  
 

He pulled out of me, and I collapsed to the floor to sit against the wood paneling below the window, my legs shaking. “I don’t think I can stand,” I admitted.

“I’ll consider that a compliment.” He removed the condom and tossed it into the metal trash can under the table, making no attempt to conceal it.

Once I regained my composure, I stood and began to dress as he did the same. I ran my hands over my skirt one last time to smooth out any wrinkles. As I walked toward the door and began to turn the knob, I just couldn’t resist.

“I’m sorry I missed this on the tour yesterday. Have a nice day, Mr. Samson.”

As I walked away,
feeling fully satisfied . . . in every way.
 

Twelve

I walked in Friday with a refreshed sense of self. Both my
body and mind had been completely willing to partake in my romp with Max, and that had been a big step for me. Gone were the feelings of dread and anxiety that flooded into me at the thought that I may see him. I wanted this relationship (or perhaps arrangement was more fitting) as much as he did, and that was okay. I wasn’t going to burn in hell for having sex with a hot guy. Or, if I was, fuck it. At least I’d enjoy the journey there.

I was getting into my teaching groove during first period, fully relaxed and focused for the first time all week, when I heard a knock on my door. I turned my head toward the door.  It was Max.
So much for focus
.

“Keep working on your plot diagrams,” I instructed as I strode toward the door. “What’s up?” I asked as I opened it.
 

“Umm, can I come in? This class ends in about 5 minutes, right? I wanted to talk to you.”

He knew when my prep period was because it was why I had been chosen to be his tour guide in the first place. So this knowledge isn’t what caught my attention. It was the fact that his speech was halted, hesitant, and
I didn’t know why. I pushed the door all the way open and stepped back, allowing him entrance. He pulled the door closed behind him and sauntered over to my desk, plopping himself down into my chair.  

For a reason I couldn’t explain, I became acutely aware that Eva, Adam’s daughter, was in this class. My mind momentarily drifted back to Adam’s email yesterday. I had been worried about his reaction to what I had written Wednesday, a feeling that only built as I didn’t hear from him for almost the entire day. But, at 2:55, after checking my email for the hundredth time, there it was. An email from Carter, Adam.
 

He didn’t reference my comments in the body of his email. He simply asked how my day had been and if Eva had been okay first period. They had evidently gotten into a little spat in the car on the way to school, and since I had Eva first period, he just wanted to check. It wasn’t until I came to his closing that I smiled in relief.
Sincerely, The Old Man.
Thank God he had a sense of humor.

But it wasn’t the email that made me hyper aware of Eva being here, despite the fact that she had watched Max come in and sit so comfortably at my desk. It was the dream I had had of Adam. It was so realistic that it left me feeling like the need I had experienced was real. And that the need transcended sex. It was like I needed Adam Carter to make me whole.

I turned my attention back to my class, though my periphery was trained on Max. He eyed me curiously and I knew that he had noticed that I had been somewhere else for a moment. He always watched me so closely, he seemed to notice everything, taking all of me in and examining it with microscopic accuracy. I would never be able to hide anything from him. This was the first time I got a shiver of a feeling that Max could be dangerous for me.
 

My class continued to work until the bell, when I told them that we would pick back up with this activity on Monday. I straightened my desks, waiting for the last students to exit my room. When the hallways were clear, I strode over to the door, pulled it closed, grabbed a chair, set it in front of Max
, and looked at him expectantly.

He leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs. His hands fidgeted, making it clear that he was uncomfortable. This was the first time I had seen him lacking his bravado, and I wasn’t completely sure how I felt about it.

“I’m confused,” he said finally. He looked up at me as if he shouldn’t have to explain further, like I should instantly know how to respond.
 

“About?” I prompted.

He sat back and ran his hands through his long hair. I wanted to grab his hair and force him between my legs.
 

“Do you hate me?” His gaze was intense, almost pained, like asking this question was physically hurting him. “And please don’t lie. I’m a big boy and am used to people hating me. I just need to know.”
 

I was lost for words. I don’t know what I struggled with more: the thought of having to answer this question, or the fact that he was used to people hating him. I wanted to take the easy road. Tell him I think he’s a swell guy so I could get the hell out of there. But I knew I couldn’t lie to Max. I had been honest with him from the moment I met him, almost brutally so, never sparing his feelings. Why start now?
 

“How I feel about you is complicated. I honestly don’t even know how to begin to explain it.”

“I just
. . . I just can’t figure you out, and it’s driving me fucking insane. You clearly despised me in the airport, yet you let me touch you and have sex with you. Then, I come here, you take one look at me, turn pale as a ghost, and again, hate me. You rip me a new asshole after our tour, indicate that you basically can’t stand the sight of me, and leave me in a stairwell. But, yesterday, you are all too willing to follow me without any idea where I’m taking you. You are a ready and willing participant in what transpired in the announcing booth, and then you leave with that flirty, suggestive remark. But yet you still won't even say my first name.  And I, I dunno.” He didn’t finish his last sentence and it hung between us like dead space. It needed to be filled, but I’d be damned if I was going to be the one to do it.
 

I raised my eyebrows at him, encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t want you to hate me. I like you, in a weird, self-deprecating kind of way. And if my coming on to you makes you dislike me, then I’ll stop. I have zero friends who are girls, but
you don’t put up with my bullshit, and I could really use someone like that right now. But, I also really like sleeping with you, and I could always use someone like that. So, what’s the deal?” He expelled this confession in one breath, or so it seemed. His face brightened, and he looked like just saying these words had lifted a weight off him.  
 

Too bad he had positioned that weight squarely on my shoulders. Was I really ready to admit that, on some level, I liked
Max? That part of me would probably enjoy having him as a friend and an even bigger part would enjoy having him as a fuck buddy.  And how could I tell him that I was intentionally refusing to say his name because I was petty and unwilling to give him that which he had wanted most from me when we first, umm, met?  Just when I thought things were getting simpler, Max turned into a giant pussy and wanted to talk about our feelings.
Hello, Twilight Zone.
 

“I don’t hate you,” I finally said quietly. I shifted uncomfortably before beginning to speak again. “The whole airport thing was totally out of character for me. I didn’t want to be some girl who gets used by a professional athlete.
 It’s just so pathetic and so far from who I am. I had finally come to terms with the fact that a fling wasn’t the worst thing I could do when you show up here, at my job. I felt like I had already given you so much evidence to prove what an easy lay I was, that I maybe went too far the other way to try to prove that I wasn’t. Then, I guess I just said fuck it. I was going to go with my instincts and hope I didn’t regret it.”

“First of all,” he began, “you were far from an easy lay. You definitely made me work for it. Second, I don’t find you in any way pathetic. I’m not using you. We enjoy having sex, we’re consenting adults, and we’re just out to have a good time. Do you agree?” he questioned.

“I don’t want to stop sleeping with you,” I admitted. I said it so matter-of-factly, I almost thought another mouth had spoken it. Was I really becoming this comfortable with casual sex? “As long as we both are on the same page about it,” I continued. “We both have an urge and enjoy when the other satisfies it. No tangled strings, messy feelings, or complicated plans. Okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded agreement, smiling for the first time since he had asked to come in. “And the friendship?” He was so full of annoying questions.  Though hopefully he wouldn't ask the one I wanted to avoid most: why I wouldn't call him Max.

“I think we can be friends. I feel like it would be weird to be banging some random guy I see in the halls occasionally.”
 

He laughed briefly at my remark. 
“Great, I’m glad we got this ironed out,” Max said as he stood. “I need to go check on supplies that just came in. I wasn’t able to concentrate on it before, with all that shit running through my head.”
Wait, he was leaving? So, we weren’t going to christen our new friendship by, say, having a quickie on my desk?
 

I was just about to renounce all I had just said, declaring that I did hate him and never wanted to see him again, when he added,
“If I don’t see you, have a great weekend, Lily.”
 

It was spoken so sincerely, my irritation immediately dissipated.

“You, too.”
 

Thirteen

Whew, Friday! This had been one long, crazy week. And while I was glad just to have survived it, part of me was sad to see this week end. What had appealed to me most about the events I had endured (and enjoyed) was the
living
that had taken place throughout. It was like I was breathing fully for the first time since, well, ever.
 

All that was left to do was make it until 3:15 and then I was free as a bird. I had intentionally not made plans for this evening, because I knew that I would be exhausted
, and I also didn’t feel like dodging a ton of questions from my girlfriends. “So, have you met anyone interesting?” “Do you like being all alone?” “Doesn’t your pathetic life make you so sad that you think about taking a bath with a toaster?”
Fuck that.

I hadn’t told anyone except Tina about Max and I planned to keep it that way. Even though they may be intrigued and impressed by my recent conquest, they may also be judgmental, and I didn’t need that right now. I had finally stopped judging myself, and I definitely didn’t need a pack of hyenas taking over the job.

I decided to check my email to keep myself occupied for the next 15 minutes. I immediately was drawn to
one that was from
Samson, Max.
Guess he had gotten a school email account. Before I opened it, I braced myself for the obscene material it would surely include. He didn’t disappoint.
 

Lily,
 

Thought you might want a visual for when you’re pleasuring yourself
to the thought of me this weekend.

See you Monday, doll.

Max
 

My mouse hovered over the attachment. Surely he wouldn’t send a graphic picture through work email. We would already need to have a serious conversation about what he had written in it. I admit that there was a bit of hypocrisy in my having fucked Max on school grounds but now getting all worked up over an email.
 However, if being the daughter of lawyers had taught me nothing else, it was that you never put
anything
in writing.

I finally grew a set and clicked open the attachment.  The picture showcased Max’s dazzling smile.  And upon closer inspection, I knew he must have taken it earlier today.  The vision of his tight black T-shirt clinging to his firm biceps and chest was a sight that wasn’t easily forgotten.  And now I had an actual picture of it that wasn’t just an image in my mind.  I grew warm at the sight of it, smiling slightly, before clicking it closed, forwarding the email to my personal account, and deleting it from Outlook. I couldn’t explain why I had decided to forward the email; I just knew that I wanted to and that was enough for me.

I scanned the other junk that littered my inbox: something about our school’s choir taking
another
field trip (probably to some street corner to sing for change), our seventh grade boys’ basketball team making playoffs (didn’t everyone make playoffs at this age?), and something about someone losing their keys.
 

Then, I saw it. I brightened as I recognized the sender, which made me realize that I had actually been hoping to get an email from him.

Miss Hamilton,

Thank you for getting back to me about Eva yesterday. I swea
r, she will be the death of me.  I can’t wait until she’s a teenager and begins telling me off daily. Good times! Thanks again.
 

Enjoy your weekend,

Adam
 

P.S. I was planning on visiting our favori
te coffeehouse tomorrow morning around 8.
 
Just thought I’d let you know in case you were in the area.

Wait, what? Had I just been asked on a date by the father of one of my students? No, it wasn’t a date invitation. Just a friendly FYI. But, why would he want me to know he was going to be there? Did he want me to join him? Or was he telling me so I knew
not
to show up? No, that didn’t make sense. Why would he mention if he didn’t want me to show up? Should I go? And more importantly, why the hell was I smiling so widely?