Teach Me Dirty (19 page)

“That’s no way it,” I argued. “
That’s
crazy talk.”

“It’s real talk.” She kicked her heels off. “Be glad that you won’t get to be with Roberts. Enjoy the dream. At least you won’t get disillusioned.”

The thought pained. It poked my broken little heart and made it bleed. “I just… I love him so much.”

“He’d be just another douche like the rest of them.”

“The rest of who?”

“Men,” she said. “Stupid idiot men.”

“Like Scottie?”

She shrugged. “Like Scottie, like all of them.”

I lowered my voice, looked at the door. “Like Ray.”

She took a long drag on her cigarette. “I don’t know what Mum sees in him.”

I didn’t have an answer for that, because I didn’t know either.

She stubbed out her cigarette and flicked off the main light. “If you’re going to be sober enough, you’d better get some rest, Hels Bells. I’ll wake you up before midnight.”

I climbed under the covers and she followed. Only this time she didn’t tie me up or rub me in private places. She wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my hair and hugged me tight.

“Love you, Hels. Always.”

“And me you,” I said. “Always.”

She was asleep before I was.

***

Lizzie was fast asleep when I crept out, and Ray was, too. I tiptoed through the flat, still feeling sick to the stomach, and my head was woolly, thumping a little. I shut the front door quietly behind me and put on my heels in the corridor. It took me a while to get down the stairs, but I managed it without incident, and the chill from the night air sobered me right up.

I went as quickly as my legs would carry me, sneaking through the Three Friars car park and keeping to the shadows. There weren’t many students left, just the odd huddle smoking outside. I kept my distance, peering through one of the windows at the back of the hall just to make sure he was still in there.

He was. And so was she. Miss pissing Monkton.

I crept back to the main entrance, and positioned myself in the shadows to the side of the car park. I’d catch hold of him here, as he was leaving.

Everyone in the whole universe seemed to leave first, laughing and singing and swaying up the road. I was freezing cold by the time he came out, even wrapped up in his jacket. My knees were knocking and my teeth were chattering.

I was all set to step out when I heard a voice behind him.

“Great night, all in,” Miss Monkton said. “Thanks for all your help.”

“My pleasure.”

“I think everyone had a good time… asides from the dramas…”

“There are always dramas, Jenny.”

She laughed too loudly. “Yes! Always!”

I willed her away, begging her silently to fuck off out of there, but she did entirely the opposite. My breath hitched as she took his arm in hers and rested her head on his shoulder and dragged him over to her car.

Cosy. They looked cosy. And she looked happy, and keen, and… in love. She was in love with him. It was written all over her face.

“Let’s go,” she said. “Bed calling.”

Bed calling.

He smiled and got in the passenger seat and together they drove away.

Together.

Bed calling. Together.

And my heart stopped.

***

Mark

I was aching to get rid of her, but she wouldn’t leave. She switched off the car engine outside my house, and lingered there, clearly angling for an invite. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

I didn’t want her in there. As nice as she was, and as well-meaning as her intentions, I just didn’t want her in there.

I faked a yawn. “I’m exhausted. Too old for partying.”

She smiled. “You need a coffee and a back rub. You must be freezing.” She reached out and squeezed my arm through my shirt, and her hand stayed there.

“I need my bed,” I said. “Early start tomorrow.”

“Spoilsport.” She giggled. “I could wake you up… rustle you up some breakfast…”

“That’s very kind, but I’ll set the alarm.” I leaned over to peck her on the cheek. “Goodnight, Jenny.”

She stared as I opened the door, her mouth flapping as she tried to think of something to say.

I felt like an asshole, but that was nothing new, holding up my hand in farewell as I bundled myself in through my front door.

I held my breath until I heard her car start up. Thank fuck for that.

I flicked on the lights and the same old empty house greeted me. I turned up the heating and prepared a fire in the grate, then went to grab a jumper. There was one lying over the dining table, and as I picked it up I noticed my mobile on the side. I hadn’t taken it, hardly seeing the point, but it was buzzing and whining and flashing green, creeping its way across the table top.

I picked it up. Ten new messages.

Jesus.

Helen: I thought you liked me.

Helen: But now I know.

Helen: It was her wasn’t it?

Helen: I feel so stupid.

Helen: You’ve broken my heart!!!!!

Helen: I thought I meant something. But I mean nothing. I’m just a joke to you, aren’t I? Just a stupid kid!

Helen: Why is she so much better than me??

Helen: I love you. I love you more than she does.

Helen: I’ll never bother you again.

Helen: It’s over for me.

I fired one back.

Where are you?

Helen: Why do you care?

Of course I care. Where are you? Are you still at Elizabeth’s?

Helen: No.

Where? At home?

Helen: No.

Jesus, Helen, where are you?

Helen: I’m thinking. Down by the river. I like it here. Enjoy your time with her.

My patience expired, faded to nothing behind a plume of rage and worry. I tried her number but she didn’t answer, then called through the pathetic list of Much Arlock taxi numbers, searching for someone to pick her up. The closest to her was forty-five minutes out, already engaged on a city run. That was way too long.

I checked out my reflection in the mirror, and I looked tired. I was way over the limit, far too drunk to risk driving.

Under any other circumstances I’d never have considered it.

Fucking hell.

My fingers were angry little blurs as I sent my final response.

Don’t fucking move. I mean it, Helen. Don’t you dare.

I splashed cold water over my face, swilled my mouth out with mouthwash and grabbed my car keys.

***

She was easy to spot in the headlights, a little dark huddle of sadness on the picnic bench. I pulled up and left the engine running, grabbing hold of her before she could protest.

She was crying. Hysterical. A flailing mass of teenage drama.

“What?” I said. “What is all this about?”

She got to her feet and her eyes were streaming. “You’re with someone else!” she cried. “You love someone else!”

“What?! What the…” My jaw hit the floor, dumbfounded by the absurdity. “Miss Monkton? You’re talking about Miss Monkton?!”

“
Bed calling.
Let’s get all cosy in bed and laugh about stupid Helen Palmer!”

“That’s absurd.”

“Is it?!”

“Of course it is!” I ran my hands through my hair, and caught my breath, reeling at the insanity, of this… this crazy drama, this abject teenage devastation, this irresponsibility I’d been dancing with. “I’m not with Miss Monkton. I’m not with anyone.”

“But she said…”

“I don’t care what she said. She gave me a lift home, Helen. She drove me home, as a friendly colleague, and dropped me at the door, and went to her own bed in her own house. She’s there now, as far as I know.”

“She did?” Helen’s lip was trembling, her face deathly pale. She looked like a ghost in the darkness, a frightened, lonely, sad little ghost.

“Yes. She did.” I sighed. “How the hell did you get here?”

“Walked.”

“Jesus Christ. It’s freezing.”

“I didn’t care. I don’t care.”

“You should care.”

“But I don’t!” She slumped against the bench, her arms wrapped around herself. “I don’t care about anything anymore. I’m done with caring.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Not anymore!”

“You should be in bed. At home.” I went to take her arm but she pulled away from me. “Come on, Helen, I’ll take you home.”

And then there were more tears, tears and wailing and blubbery words.

“I… I just… I’ve ruined everything! I’ve ruined it all… and I didn’t want to… I just… I loved it… everything… and now I’m empty… and sad… I’m so sad… I thought you liked me… I thought… I thought…”

“I’ll take you home.” I beckoned her to follow. “Come on.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to go. It’ll wake my parents up, and they’ll be angry, or worried.”

“Fine, then I’ll take you back to Elizabeth’s.”

She shook her head again. “Lizzie’s asleep. She has a communal door, I can’t get in.”

“Well, what then?” I rubbed my temples. “What are you planning on doing?”

Her lip went again. “I’ll just stay… stay here…”

“Like fuck you will.” She couldn’t move away quickly enough this time and my fingers closed around her wrist, pulling her along after me. I opened the passenger door, and put my hand on her head as I lowered her inside, and I even crawled in after her and fastened her seat belt.

She struggled but it was half-hearted. The tears, not so much.

“Please don’t take me home! They’ll be so upset with me!”

“Be quiet, Helen, just be quiet.” I slipped back in the driver’s seat, and closed the door. “I need to concentrate, I’m over the fucking limit. So please be quiet.”

She stared at me with big, sad eyes. “You shouldn’t have come for me…”

“Like I had a choice.”

“You did…”

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and she took the hint. The car went quiet.

“Where are you taking me?” she said finally, and her voice was calmer.

“Home,” I said, then turned to her before she could object. “
My
home.”

***

Helen

I didn’t speak. Didn’t say another single word. Buttoning up my beak and letting the world slip past the window.

His
home.

I wished it felt better. I wished it wasn’t under duress.

He was angry, I could tell. That felt worst of all.

I heard him sigh, and he turned the heater up full. It felt nice against my freezing legs.

“You could have caught your death out there.”

I shrugged. “I was upset.”

We turned up towards Deerton Heath and my tummy tickled with nerves. The road climbed, steeply, and turned bumpy, and there were no streetlights, no lights at all.

“Not far now,” he said and I hugged myself to steady my thumping heart. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Whisked away in the night to
his
home.

The track evened out, and twinkling lights came into view in the distance. He pulled up, and switched off the engine.

“This is us.”

Us.

If only.

I unclipped my seatbelt and let myself out, and he was already at the doorway, leading the way inside. The door was old, heavy and smooth, and the hallway beyond was old, too. You could tell by the walls, uneven and beamed and full of age. He flicked on the light, and I looked through to a dining room. It was cluttered, but artistically so, the table laden with canvases and palettes, and the walls were covered in prints and paintings, a faded terracotta colour peeping out through the gaps. I took off my heels and followed him through to the kitchen, another artistically cluttered affair, with jugs and jars and heavy pans, and a couple of strange looking houseplants. He ran the tap awhile before filling up a glass.

He handed it over.

“Drink.”

“Lizzie already made me…”

“I don’t care,” he said. “Drink.”

I propped myself against the side and forced some down, but I was still shaking, still cold. Still nervous.

I felt his eyes on me. “Heating is on.”

“Thanks.”

He brushed past me and took a door to the side, and I peered in after him. He was crouched on the floor by a fireplace, fumbling with some kindling. He set it alight, and my heart leapt, an unexpected moment of joy. My first in weeks. I love a real fire.

“Come through,” he said, and he was at the sofa — an old battered leather thing that had seen better days — making me a space amongst a load of art magazines. I sat down and pulled my legs up under me, and Mr Roberts fetched a soft woollen throw from a stool in the corner and draped it over my legs. “The fire will start kicking out some heat soon.”

“Thank you, I’m a bit warmer now.”

He sat on the arm at the opposite end, and watched the flames in the grate as they danced and crackled and sprang into life. “I wanted the best for you, Helen. That’s all I wanted.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

“This whole thing… it was wrong. I knew it was wrong. I thought if I could just back away, just give you enough space…” He sighed. “It didn’t really go to plan, though, did it?”

“I… I just…” I slumped down in my seat. “I just wanted it so bad. It broke my heart.”

“Seeing you with Harry Sawbridge…” His brows were heavy, concentrated. “Helen, you’re better than that.”

“I didn’t feel it.” My heart hurt. “I don’t feel it. I feel like nothing. I just wanted it done.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. I feel like nothing. Just a stupid little girl. A weirdo. A stupid virgin.”

“Shh,” he said. “Don’t.”

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

He moved so slowly. Dropping to the floor and closing the distance on his knees, and he was there, in front of me, warm hands on my knees through the throw. “That isn’t the truth.”

“You would say that. You
have
to say that. You’re my teacher.”

“I’m hardly acting like it.”

“You are.” And I was sad again. “You are acting like it.”

“I’ve been trying.”

I managed a small smile. “You’re not doing so bad.”

“That’s debatable.”

“You didn’t have to pick me up,” I said. “You should have left me there.”

“Yes,” he said. “I should have. I’m too drunk to drive.”

“You don’t seem it.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’m still too drunk to drive.” His eyes were on mine, and they burned. “Anna was killed by a drunk driver. He was three times the limit, lost control on a bend and she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just one split second of bad timing. If he hadn’t been drinking, if his reactions had been better…” He looked away. “I don’t drink and drive, Helen. I never drink and drive.”

My soul shrivelled. “And I made you? I made you do it, didn’t I? Oh my God …”

“You didn’t make me. Your irresponsible choices made me. Please don’t make a habit of it.”

I was crying again, and it was stupid but I couldn’t stop. “I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, Helen, just learn from it.” He squeezed my knee through the throw. “You didn’t know.”

“But she died… because of a drunk… and I made you… I made you drive…”

“Yes, she did. But I drove slowly, and carefully, and we were lucky. I weighed up the options and took a calculated risk.”

I nodded, and I was sniffly.

“Sometimes that’s all we can do, Helen. Weigh up our options and take a calculated risk. Don’t you think?”

I shrugged like a stupid kid. “I guess.”

“You guess?” He was smiling, a sad smile, a resigned smile as though he’d lived a thousand years. Maybe that’s what I did to him. Maybe being around someone as young and as stupid as me made him feel old. “I was hoping for a little more than
I guess
, since I’m about to take another one.”

Something fluttered, in my belly, something small and nice. “Another one?”

“Another calculated risk.” He moved, placing a hand beside me on the sofa, and my body moved for his, clearing a space as he filled it. He reached out a hand for me, and I shivered as his thumb brushed my lip. He trailed his fingers down my neck, brushing my hair to the side. “So help me, God,” he mumbled, and I don’t think it was for me.

His mouth pressed to mine, and his arms pulled me close, and it was really real. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and I kissed him back. I kissed him back as my heart stuttered and my soul came alive again. His tongue was needy, and his breath was ragged, and he was alive, too. I could feel him straining to keep the lid on a boiling pot, but it was bubbling and clattering and slipping. It was already toppling, and the pot boiled over.

I dared to reach for his tie. Dared to loosen it, and he didn’t fight me.

He slipped his jacket from my shoulders, and my skin wasn’t cold anymore. His fingers tickled, dancing over my skin, and he sucked at my bottom lip, breathed into my mouth, and I wanted him, I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.

He broke away and I moaned. “Please, no,” I said. “Please don’t stop.”

I fumbled at his buttons, desperate to see him, but he stilled my fingers, took my hands in his. My stomach lurched until I realised he was smiling.

“Relax,” he said. He kissed my knuckles and guided my hand away. “Stand up,” he said. “Please. Stand for me. I want to see you in your gown.” I got to my feet and he took the throw from me, and I was standing for him, just me, in my pretty dress, barefoot and nervous as he looked me up and down. “Turn around.”

I turned slowly, taking slow breaths, keeping my eyes on him over my shoulder until he moved forwards. His hands were warm against my back, tracing a path up my spine as he rose to his feet. He wrapped his arm around my waist, pinning my back to his chest, and he brushed my hair to the side, sweeping it clear of my shoulders. And then there was his mouth, his lips… his warm breath on my ear as my skin came alive. I couldn’t stop moaning as he kissed me there, my neck was so tender. Everything tickled and fluttered, and the heat of him was so beautiful, so right. He wrapped my hair around his fingers, and angled me where he wanted me, exploring my skin until I wriggled against him. He nipped at my shoulder, nipped all the way up my throat, and I could feel him smiling, smiling before his tongue found its way in my ear.

“Oh…” I hissed. “Oh, God…”

“Relax,” he breathed, and there was more, his fingers slipping around to cup my breasts, squeezing me through the fabric, and I was so glad Lizzie had convinced me not to wear a bra.

He kissed me forever. He kissed me until my legs were shaking and it wasn’t from the cold, until my stomach was knotted and I could feel my pulse between my thighs. He kissed me until I was moaning for more, until I was liquid nothingness and the fire was burning me up.

He kissed me like he loved me.

He kissed me like I was everything.

And then he stopped.

And I stumbled, I stumbled and dithered and laughed as he pulled the fabric of my dress up over my head. He turned me to face him, and he looked at me, he looked at all of me.

“You’re so beautiful.” He ran his thumbs across my nipples and the sparks that flew through me were amazing. “I hope you believe me.” His palms slid down my waist, fingers hooking inside my knickers. “You’re a beautiful, talented, vivacious young woman, Helen. More beautiful than ever because you have no idea how beautiful you really are.”

I gasped as he peeled the fabric away, and I was wet, my thighs were slippery. I stepped out of my knickers, and I was naked. It felt like a dream. A really good dream.

“I’m going to take you upstairs.”

He kissed my mouth.

“I’m going to take you to my bed.”

He kissed my neck.

“And I’m going to make you mine.”

My tummy fluttered and my whole body ached for him, wanted him.

He led me by the hand, squeezing so tightly as he guided me back through the dining room and up a staircase to the floor above. He didn’t flick the lights on until we were in his bedroom, and it was warm up there. Warm and cosy, with a whole other load of artistic chaos around us. His bed was big and soft and dressed in white, plainer than the rest of the room, but perfect for him. Perfect for us.

He pushed me down until I was sitting on the edge, and then lifted my knees up onto his shoulders. I tipped back naturally, sinking into the bed, and his lips grazed my thigh. He nipped and sucked and teased me, his breath so warm as he meandered his way to my pussy. I was desperate for him, wriggling and moaning and squirming and aching. A delirious mess of hormones and want.

I jumped a mile as his tongue found my clit. And it was heaven. Pure heaven.

He spread me open and licked me there, and he sucked at delicate places, and his breath was deliciously hot. When he slipped a finger inside me I was ready, but it still made me suck in my breath. He worked it in and out, sucking at my clit as he pushed in another. And I felt full, and tight, and tender. He moved them in and out of me so slowly, sucking on me until I couldn’t take anymore. Until my fingers were in his hair and I was squirming underneath him.

I couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t stop staring down at the beautiful sight of him between my legs.

“Oh, God…” I hissed. “That feels… that feels so nice…”

I gripped the sheets as I came, and it didn’t feel like it did when I did it to myself. It was more tickly, hotter, more intense, and after I felt floaty and soft, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I caught my breath as he kissed his way up my body, and everything was ticklish. I laughed as he kissed my tummy, and I felt him smile against my skin.

He lay on the bed and pulled me up towards him, and his fingers slipped back between my legs, teasing my clit as I groaned.

“I want you so much…” I said. “Please…”

I pulled his tie from his neck and cast it aside, and fumbled with his shirt buttons until I reached his skin. I couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t stop watching my fingers touching him. “This is really real…”

He smiled. “This is really real.” He shrugged his shirt off. “And not nearly so impressive as your sketches.”