Teach Me Dirty (33 page)

I felt a flutter in my belly. “Don’t you?”

His eyes smouldered in a way that was wholly inappropriate, and I was right back at his, spread-eagled and helpless, squealing with glee as he pushed himself all the way inside.

“I’ve just spent two glorious weeks with a beautiful young woman in my home, Helen, in my
bed
. A beautiful young woman whose love has driven me to put everything on the line… to break my own code of ethics… to pack up every memory of my old life to make room for the new. You think I can just switch that off? You think it doesn’t drive me crazy having you so close under these circumstances?” His fingers brushed my cheek. “It’s all I can do to be professional right now, and that’s for your sake as much as mine.”

“I love you,” I whispered. “It feels so wrong not to be able to touch you.”

He took a step forward and I took a step back, until I was pressed to the wall, wedged tight between the paint racks. He took my hands in his and placed them on his chest, and I moved them, slipped them under his jacket with a moan. I could feel his skin, hot through his shirt, the familiar bulk of him, every ripple of his body, and mine came alive, wanting and needing and fluttering until my legs had parted for his and the heat of him was against me.

He pressed his hands to the wall over my head like a barrier. “We can’t,” he said, and his breath was ragged. “It’s too risky.”

But I couldn’t stop, my hands snaked around his waist, down to his ass, where I pulled him closer, and my mouth was at his neck, breathing him in.

“Helen… we can’t.” But his eyes didn’t match his words, and with a groan his lips met mine, and opened. His tongue pushed deep, and his heart was pounding against mine. His fingers slid between me and the wall, and cupped my ass, before snaking under the hem of my skirt. I moaned when he hit bare skin, and his palms ghosted up my thighs. His thumbs hooked inside my knickers and I sucked in breath.

And then there was noise, the familiar creak of the door.

“Mark? Mark, are you in here?”

Heels clacking on tiles, and I was reeling, awkward, adjusting my clothes as the footsteps came nearer. Mark, too, smoothing his skirt back down and pulling his jacket closed to hide the swell in his crotch. He turned around, but his elbow caught the fixant cans and they went tumbling. I shrieked as they clattered to the floor, and Mark stepped away from me, stepping over them and catching one with his heel.

Miss Monkton’s voice was loud. “Mark?”

And then she saw me. Her eyes met mine and moved right the way up and down, taking in the scene. My cheeks were on fire. Burning me alive.

“Miss Monkton.” Mark’s voice was cheerful, but his breath was short. “I wasn’t expecting you. Helen and I were just looking for the paint thinner. I thought I’d grabbed the pesky thing, but seemingly I’d grabbed everything but.”

His garbled words didn’t help my self-consciousness.

“I wanted a word with you,” she said. “In private.”

That was my cue, and I took it, slipping past Mark with my blazer hugged tight. I shot Miss Monkton a smile but didn’t dare meet her eyes, then bundled up my things and headed the crap out of there.

“I’ll see you later, Mr Roberts.”

“Yes, Helen, indeed.”

***

Mark

The horrible fear was teetering on the edge, threatening to consume me, but I kept my head.

“How can I help, Jenny?”

She was pulling a face, a puzzled face, and she was troubled. Her stance made it obvious, the fold of her arms, too. She took a couple of steps forward and looked to the door as it creaked shut behind Helen.

“Mark, what was going on there?”

My blood ran cold. “Going on?”

She sighed. “You know the girl has…
feelings
for you. You’re putting yourself in danger being that close to her.”

I could feel the pulse in my temples. “We were trying to find paint thinner, Jenny, like I said. Things toppled.”

“It was more than that,” she hissed. “Mark, I’m your friend, I don’t want to see your career suffer because of some silly schoolgirl crush. She
likes
you, she’ll be looking for any sign, any sign at all that this is more. Don’t give her any. Hell, Mark, she’ll be the ruin of you if you’re not more careful.”

Oh the irony. It made my stomach flip.

“Helen understands our professional relationship. She’s never crossed any lines.”

“
Yet
, Mark,
yet.
Her whole demeanour was provocative, she was burning up.”

“She’s always flushed.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Always?”

I shrugged. “Jenny I appreciate your concern…”

“Jesus, Mark, the girl’s not as innocent as she looks, open your bloody eyes, man!”

Her outburst took both of us aback, and she pressed a hand over her mouth as I startled. I stooped to the floor, picking up the toppled cans with my heart in my throat.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just don’t want to see this happen to you, you’re a good teacher. A good man.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Jenny,” I said. “Helen’s got her feet on the ground, she knows the boundaries.”

I felt like such a horrible bastard for denying everything, but all my thoughts were for Helen.

Jenny was shaking her head. “I can’t let this happen to you, Mark. I’m going to have to speak with Kenneth, let him know we need to put some precautions in place around that girl.”

“Precautions?!”

“She’s unstable, Mark. After the winter ball, that scene with Harry Sawbridge, and now this… You shouldn’t be alone with her. For your own sake. It’s not professional.”

“Stop!” I said. “Jenny, just stop it.”

“I can’t, Mark. It’s going to end badly for everyone if this carries on.” She sighed. “You’ll thank me for it one day.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Her eyes widened at my words.

I struggled to explain. “Helen’s a great student, in the middle of her exam preparations. She doesn’t need your well-meaning interference.”

“It’s not
her
I’m looking out for,” she snapped. “It’s
you
!”

“So look out for me. You’ve expressed your concerns, I’ve said there’s no need for them. End of conversation.” I put the cans back on the shelf. “Just let me do my fucking job.”

Her jaw dropped at my language. “I’m trying to
safeguard
your job, Mark.”

“You don’t need Kenneth’s involvement to do that, Jenny. Just trust me.”

She shook her head. “You’re playing with fire.”

“So let me. Christ, Jenny, come and watch Helen if you must. Watch me. I don’t care, just don’t bring loads of red tape into it, that’s no good for anyone.”

Her eyes flashed with something that made my stomach lurch. My heart was still pounding, nausea threatening.

“I’ll be watching,” she said.

She left without even telling me what she’d wanted.

And all I could do was shudder.

***

Helen

It felt like an age before Mum left for the night and Katie was in bed. My hands were shaking when I dialled his number and it felt ridiculous. I’d been in his bed for two whole weeks, and just one day back in stupid school had reverted me to a nervous wreck.

“Helen… I was wondering if you’d call.”

“Mum just left,” I said. My insides were a bag of jitters. “Today, was it ok? What did she…”

He paused, and I heard him light up a cigarette. “We sailed far too close to the wind. Her alarm bells are truly ringing.”

My gut twisted. “Oh God… what are we… what can we…?” And then there was a lump in my throat. “Do you think we should… if you want to…”

“If I want to what?”

I made myself take a breath. Made myself say it. “If you want to stop…”

And he laughed. He actually laughed. “Christ, Helen. Don’t be such a
drama llama
.”

The relief flooded me, and I laughed, too, even though it came out all jagged and breathless. “I was really worried.”

“I wasn’t quite soaring high myself, Helen.” He sighed. “Look, the situation is what it is. We’ll be a bit more careful from now on. That’s all we can do.”

“Is it? Because if you want to… I’d understand…”

“Are you getting cold feet?”

I laughed at the craziness. “No. Not at all. Never.”

“And neither am I. Like I said, we’re a bit more careful from now on. That’s all we can do.”

“I won’t let you lose your job over this… I promise… I would never…”

“Stop it,” he said. “Don’t plan for the worst. There’s no point. What happens now, happens.”

“I mean it. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Why don’t you worry about your coursework and let
me
worry about my career, Helen?” He paused. “That’s what I want you to do. Can you do that?”

I sighed. “Yeah, ok. I can do that.”

“That’s my girl.”

And I was his girl. Always. “Mum and Dad think I’m with Harry Sawbridge anyway, that should give us enough cover for the weekends.”

“It does provide a useful smokescreen at least.”

I smiled. “They think he’s making me very happy. Extremely happy. They think he’s a thoroughly nice young man.” I closed my eyes, just to feel him. “I wish I could tell them.”

“Maybe one day.”

“Maybe.”

I could just imagine Dad’s face. I tried not to. Maybe I could tell him this year, next year, sometime never. Sometime never in a million years.

I started at a noise upstairs, footsteps then whining.

“I need a drink, Helen! I’m thirsty!”

I put the phone to my shoulder. “Yeah, for the third time already! You’ll be wetting the bed, little Miss Drink-a-lot!”

“Ewww! I don’t wet the bed, Helen! Gross!”

I put the phone back to my ear. “I’d better go.”

“Sounds like it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I could hear him pacing. “Low key, remember? Just to be safe.”

“Yeah, I get it. Weekends only.”

“Unfortunately so.”

“Goodnight, Mr Roberts.”

I could feel the smile on his face. “Sweet dreams, Helen Palmer.”

***

Mark

I’d have been a fool not to have considered it, the potential doom. More foolish than I was for losing my restraint in the classroom. The holidays had made it so natural. Too natural.

The option of resigning reared its tempting ugly head, but the idea made me feel nauseous. Defeatist, too. A whole school full of kids to let down, youngsters just finding their feet, A-level students just like Helen.

Not just like Helen.

And I didn’t want to resign. I liked my job. I
loved
my job. My home, too.

I paced around the place, weighing things up, but they refused to balance. They wouldn’t even come close.

I couldn’t give up on Helen, and I couldn’t give up on the rest of my life, either. All that remained was the inevitable gauntlet, dodging through the obstacles and just hoping I got a fair wind, enough to come out the other side unscathed. I didn’t rate my odds, but they were still worth betting on.

A man’s got to try, after all.

I loaded new photos onto my laptop. A string of holiday selfies.
Selfies
– even the idea was absurd
.
Other pictures, too. Pictures of Helen by the fire, Helen painting, Helen staring into space without the slightest clue she was about to be snapped. And my favourite, Helen outside, barefoot on the lawn, smiling as the wind caught her hair, glowing and carefree.

I printed that one off, and dug out a frame from the cupboard. My first effort at making this place full again.

The shadow of impending doom had penetrated me, crept in deep under Jenny Monkton’s glare. It was still in me, an unwanted guest, a malevolent ghost of some potential future.

Should the shit hit the fan, it would be easily as bad for Helen as it was for me. She had exams, and study, and peers who’d line up to gossip and mock and jeer at her. Show me a student who could take that kind of shit-storm in their stride and still come up with top grades, and I’ll show you a million who wouldn’t. Especially not those with a wonderful and sensitive disposition like Helen’s.

If this crap went down, she’d go down with it. And that’s where the shadow lingered, death-gripping my sense of responsibility for that beautiful, talented, spirited girl.

It made me shudder all over again.

***

Helen

Lizzie seemed to spend a lot of time with Rachel for someone who hadn’t even liked her a few weeks ago.

They walked to school together, while I tagged on behind like a third wheel. They smoked together, and lunched together, and disappeared off home together while I trekked back to babysitterville.

Two weeks. Just two crappy weeks.

Things really were like old times at school. No lingering glances. No whispering. No stolen touches. No lunchtime cosying. No afternoon hanging around. No car rides. No anything.

It sucked bad. But at least it felt safe. At least we’d still have weekends.

I’d checked Mum’s rota and she was back late from shift on Saturday night, but at least she was back. I’d have some time, even just a little. Enough time to feed the craving and make the next week of crud bearable.

Mark and I talked about it every night. Amongst other things. Plenty of other things.

Sometimes I’d get him on a roll and he’d keep on chatting for hours. Other times he’d come on the line with a breakdown of what assignments he knew I had due in and cut me short.

But that was ok, too.

We were ok. That’s all that really mattered.

I couldn’t wait to be in his bed again.

I thought I was home and dry with the weekend arrangements. I laid it out nice and clearly to Mum and Dad that Harry and I had plans, and they didn’t even argue.

It’s serious
, I maintained.
Really serious. We’re happy. So happy. And he’s nice. He’s such a nice lad.

And then disaster struck, and I hadn’t even seen it coming.

A knock at my bedroom door sounded late on Friday night, hushed voices on the landing.

I’ve got to tell her, Angela!

Not tonight, George! Sleep on it!

Tonight, Angela, she’s got to know!

My stomach fell through the floor, hands shaking as I reached for my light. And then Dad was in the doorway.

“Can you come downstairs, Helen? We need to talk.”

“What is it? What’s happened?” And then the silence. “Dad! What’s happened?”

“Just come downstairs, love.”

I pulled on my dressing gown and raced to the kitchen, and Mum pulled me out a chair even though she looked so tired. I wondered why she was even home.

They looked at each other, and they looked so sad. Mum twisted her fingers, and it made me want to cry, nerves jangling everywhere.

“What is it?!” I said. “Please, just tell me!”

Dad took a seat, and a breath.

“It’s Harry,” he said. “I saw him tonight.”

My heart stuttered, dread rising up. Dread and shock. “You saw
Harry
?”

Oh Lord, no.

He slammed his hand on the table. “The nasty little prick played you, Helen, played all of us. I thought he was from good stock. Just wait til I see Mick around, he needs to pull his son back into fucking line, that’s what I say.”

I could hardly breathe. “What… what happened?”

He sighed. “I was driving up through town, just about to head back out on the city run, when I saw him. Him and… some stupid bit of skirt.” He groaned, and his face was angry. Really angry. “He was with another girl, Helen.”

Everything felt so far away. “With another girl?”

“Yeah,
with
another girl. I’m so sorry, Helen. I’m really bloody sorry.”

Mum’s hand was on my shoulder, squeezing me, expecting the tears. “Are you sure, George? You’re absolutely positive?”

He stood up and slammed his hand down again. “Of course I’m bloody sure! If the bus had been empty I’d have pulled over and demanded to know what the fuck he was playing at!”

“It doesn’t make any sense.” She stared at me. “You’ve got plans, haven’t you? Plans for tomorrow night. And you’ve been talking to him, love, surely? Did you not have any idea?”

“He’s a fucking prick!” Dad spat. “A real fucking prick.” He reached for his phone. “Let me call fucking Mick, find out what the fuck that kid thinks he’s playing at.”

Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck
.

I didn’t have time to think it through, didn’t have time to form a better strategy, didn’t have time to do anything other than get Dad off that phone.

“I knew,” I said. “About the girl.”

Their faces were a picture.

Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “You what?”

I tried to calm my breathing. “It’s over, me and Harry. Mutual decision. You know how it goes…”

There was one long moment of silence before the questions started.

“No, Helen, I don’t fucking
know how it goes.
Mutual decision?! Since fucking when? It’s only bloody Friday, you were with him for two weeks solid last week.”

“And tomorrow night,” Mum butted in. “You only said about that this afternoon.”

“Don’t try and defend him, Helen. I’ll have none of that!”

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m really not.” My story was fucked, but I didn’t have a better get out. “I, um… just hadn’t got round to telling you. It happened today… lunch… I just didn’t want to worry you…”

Mum looked thoroughly confused. “But you were both so happy… You’ve been so happy…”

“So, he was still seeing that bit of stuff behind your back, was he?” Dad demanded. “Because I’m telling you now, Helen, there’s no way that shit he pulled tonight was hot off the press. They were pretty fucking familiar. So he did pull a fast one, didn’t he? Mutual decision or bastard not.”

“But you must be devastated,” Mum said. “You liked him so much!” Tears pricked at her eyes and she pulled me into a hug, and I felt so bad, so very bad. “Don’t you worry, love, we’ll make it alright. We’ll still have a nice night tomorrow, you’ll see. We’ll make up for it at home, girls’ night, hey?”

I felt so bad lapping up Mum’s sympathy, especially when my brain was whizzing through a whole host of excuses to get out of her concern.

“I’ll be ok,” I said. “I’m ok.”

And that’s when Dad looked strange. His eyes suspicious and beady.

“You don’t seem that upset, Helen. Not considering you only split up today.”

“Mutual decision,” I maintained. “Like I said.”

“Mutual decision my fucking arse. You were well into him. He seemed well into you as well. Croissants, and potato bloody waffles.” He scowled. “Something doesn’t make bloody sense about all this.”