CHAPTER NINE
True to my word, I did not go to Art Appreciation class the next day. It was strange having an extra hour before lunch, but convenient at the same time. I decided to start coming home for lunch instead of eating at campus. The extra hour gave me time to get a head start on my home work so that my nights weren't so hectic.
Damien Reed had sent me a text on Sunday night after his phone call to ask if I was alright. I didn't bother responding. What did he really care if I was alright anyway?
To my surprise, he tried to call and text me again on Monday night, then on Tuesday night, and Wednesday night. The fact that he kept trying to get in contact with me made me uncomfortable . . . and hopeful. Why, I didn't know. It was over between us. He was water under the bridge.
On Wednesday after school, I went out to dinner with Tanya. She was all rainbows and butterflies as she told me about the goings on with this new boy she had been seeing. Apparently, things were starting to get quite serious.
“I think . . . I'm ready for an actual relationship,” she squealed, her overzealous mannerisms forcing me to smile. It was so funny how she acted when she was excited, as if she couldn't contain the energy built up inside of her.
“Wow. That's a huge step for you,” I said, genuinely surprised.
“I know. But seriously, Chey, he makes me feel like no guy ever has. The sex is so good, and he's so good to me. He buys me things and opens doors for me and treats me like a princess.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“He really is. I want you to meet him sometime soon. He has to pass the Chey test if he's going to be in my life.”
I laughed. “You make it sound like meeting me is like meeting your parents.”
“It is kind of like that.” She looked thoughtful. “My best friend has to approve of my boyfriend, otherwise it just won't work.”
“I'm sure I'll like him just fine.”
“I hope so. He's such a doll face. What about your man? The infamous James. When am I going to meet him?”
I sighed, and then launched into the story about Damien Reed, leaving no detail unspoken. Despite Tanya being ridiculously protective of me, I didn't really think she would turn him into the school board. Besides, what had happened between us was already over. Even if she did turn him in, part of me felt like he deserved it. He had seduced a student, after all.
When I finished my spiel about Damien, I told Tanya about Chase too, that we had sex, and I was thinking of getting with him. She was completely uninterested in that part of the story though, still awestruck by my weekend romps with Damien Reed.
“Oh my God, Chey. You fucked Damien Reed?”
“We didn't fuck,” I insisted, feeling suddenly embarrassed. “We just gave each other oral sex.”
“And you don't think he has feelings for you at all?”
“No. He's too . . . serious and proper and not caring,” I said with distaste. Nothing like Chase.
“Dude, you are so fucking blind.”
“What do you mean?” I quirked my eyebrow.
“Think about it. You sent him a video of you and Chase having sex, and he responded by making you watch a video of him having sex. He must have known that would get to you.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I'm pretty sure that was just on the curriculum for his sex class.”
“I'm not buying it. That sounds too vindictive. Maybe watching you have sex with someone else hurt him, so he decided to hurt you by doing the same thing.”
“I'm sure that's not it. Trust me, I know the guy a lot better than you do, no offense.”
“Alright,” she relented. “Let's say you're right. Let's say the video thing was just a really bizarre coincidence. But you can't deny he's been calling you ever since Sunday night. That's four nights in a row. He could have easily figured out you're okay between now and then. I mean, he talks to other professors and stuff.”
That, I couldn't deny. Even I found it strange he had called and texted so much, though they had all been completely innocent.
“Here. Let me see your cell phone. I want to read the text messages,” Tanya said, making grabby hands at my phone.
“Fine,” I passed it to her, sighing. The last thing I needed was her to plant illogical thoughts in my head. Damien and I were over. Weren't we?
She scrolled through my texts, then bounced in her seat as she slid the phone back in front of me. “Look at that one. He says, 'I need to know you're alright.' Not want to know you're alright. Need to know. If he didn't care about you, he wouldn't need to know you're alright,” she insisted.
I rolled my eyes. “You're reading waaay too far into this. What about Chase? Aren't you happy that Chase and I are finally getting together?”
“Pfft. Fuck Chase. Chase is boring. Damien Reed is a kinky gorgeous sexual God. Do you know how many women would kill to have personal lessons with him?” She made quotation marks with her hands when she said the word personal.
“Well, they can have him. He's a mind fuck, and I'm not interested in playing games.” Even as I said it though, my heart felt a twinge of pain.
No, Chey. You're not going to feel guilty. Chase may be boring, but at least he's steady. Damien Reed is just an unobtainable tease. You're better off without him.
The seed was planted though, and the entire drive home, thoughts of Damien Reed infected my mind. Why was I having such a hard time letting him go? What if the things Tanya said were true? What if he was throwing signals, albeit very vague and easily misinterpreted ones?
After wracking my brain for hours, I decided I needed to know the truth—had to know before I could comfortably settle into a relationship with Chase. When Damien Reed called the next day, I'd answer the phone and lay it all out for him. It would be hard, but he needed to know my feelings, and I needed closure if this bizarre romance was all inside my head.
The following afternoon, I watched my phone like a hawk, waiting with bated breath for it to ring—for Damien Reed's number to flash across my caller ID. As the night drug on, I quickly began losing hope. He wasn't going to call. It was truly over.
For some reason, the thought drained the energy right out of me. I spent most of Friday sulking around school, walking extra slow in the hallways, hoping to catch a glimpse of Damien Reed, the man I had lost. Stupid, Chey. You never had him in the first place. How can you lose what you never had?
Tanya wanted to go out that night, but I was too depressed, figuring I would wallow in my pajamas, sappy movies, and popcorn until I submitted to the fact that my only romantic option was Chase. It wasn't like he was a bad option. In fact, I felt like a cunt for even being upset about Damien, but I couldn't seem to get over him.
My phone buzzed, conveniently right in the middle of a sex scene that had my groin aching. For a moment, I thought about shoving the phone between my legs, but then decided to flip it open instead.
The message was from Damien. It simply said, “Your lesson is tomorrow at 9PM. I expect you to meet me at the address below. If you do not show up, you will never hear from me again.”
I looked at the address, which was unfamiliar to me, then I read the text message again. It sounded more like a threat than anything else, though I was sure that it wasn't meant that way.
Nine o'clock was awfully late for a lesson. For my first two lessons, I met him at his place at four. That gave me time to take my lesson and then have my entire evening free. I didn't like this change in schedule. Then again, I didn't have to like it. If I didn't want to, I didn't have to go. And why should I go? I had already committed to ending everything with Damien. Hadn't I?
For a few minutes, I thought about calling Damien, about pouring my heart out over the phone to him. I had told myself that was what I was going to do. But now, knowing I had a chance to see him again, to pick up with my lessons where we had left off, I couldn't force myself to dial the number.
Mixed emotions flooded through me, and I ended up grumpily turning off the TV and heading to bed early to escape myself through sleep. I didn't want to think about what this meant—didn't want to think about the decision I had to make. It should have been an easy one, and yet it wasn't. Deep down, I wanted to see Damien Reed and make my peace with him.
The next night, I found myself getting to the location in the text message early. When I pulled onto a street filled with small off-the-wall businesses, I thought I had gotten lost. There was a vacuum cleaner repair shop, a Tae Kwon Do academy, and a pool supply place. The address on the card though led me in front of a building called CheerTastic.
I groaned, thinking about how I couldn't be in the right spot. All the lights were off inside, and there were no cars out front. Just when I was about to put my Miata in reverse and pull away, the headlights of a car beamed down the secluded street, and then it turned into the parking lot.
I held my breath, watching the red Corvette's reflection in the windows of the cheer studio. The engine was killed, and Damien Reed stepped out of the driver-side door, giving my Miata a knowing smile.
“I didn't think I was at the right place,” I told him as I crawled out of my car, my words drowned out by the fierce drumming of my heart.
Damien didn't even acknowledge me, walking to the door of the establishment and unlocking it with a set of keys he had pulled from his pocket. He disappeared inside to disarm the alarm and turn on the lights. Then he returned to hold the door open for me. I walked in past him, keeping my eyes to the floor.
“This is an odd place for a lesson,” I muttered, taking a sheepish look around.
The floor of the room was padded except for a small strip of walkway and benches on the right side of the room that started at the door and extended all the way to the back wall. All three walls were covered from floor to ceiling in mirrors. Only the front wall wasn't a mirror, and that one was entirely made of glass, which looked out onto the desolate street.
“You going to teach me how to dance?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. Damien hadn't said a word to me since we arrived, and it was beginning to make me very uncomfortable.
He sat down on the bench, looking up at me. There was no clipboard in his hand. No pen.
“Today's lesson is about exposure,” he told me, calm as ever, seemingly forgetting that I had ignored him for an entire week. “It's about displaying your secret desires for all the world to see.”
My secret desires? The only fantasy I really had was being spanked. Did he plan on doing that to me here, so I could see it from all angles? My clit throbbed as I imagined myself bent over his knee, my skirt hiked up, his thick palm slamming against my pale flesh, making me whimper. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to push the fantasy away.
“Take off your clothes,” he said.
“Here, where everyone can see?” I shot a glance toward the window.
“You marked on your questionnaire that you have no preference about voyeurism. This is today's lesson. You'll either do what you're told, or you'll leave,” the seriousness of his words twisted my stomach with unpleasantness. I wanted to leave. That was the plan, right? To say everything I had to say and then leave, never to see Damien Reed again.
“What if someone sees? Aren't you worried about getting in trouble?” I asked.
“There isn't much traffic on this street, which is why it's the perfect location for this lesson.”
“Who does this place belong to anyway?”
“Less talking. More undressing.”
My heart was thundering in my chest, my mind caught between staying and going. This lesson seemed like an interesting one, yet I knew I shouldn't indulge him. I had told myself we were just going to talk. Nothing sexual. Yet my body yearned for his touch. It was easy to suppress it when we were apart, but when he was sitting right in front of me, with his dark eyes, tight clothes, and legs slightly spread. Well, the man caused cravings, to say the least.
Despite myself, I found my clothes practically melting off around me. Within in a matter of minutes, I was standing there naked, looking at the gorgeous woman in the mirror from all angles. I felt exposed but confident, proud of my body. There was nothing to be ashamed of.
Damien stood up and approached me. I turned my gaze from him, but the mirrors wouldn't let me escape. Soon, he was standing in front of me, only inches away.
“Turn around and walk to the window,” he told me. “I want you standing only a few inches away from it, so everyone outside can see.”
There was no one outside, but in my mind's eye, there was an entire crowd. For some reason, facing the mirrors wasn't anywhere near as daunting as facing the windows. Perhaps I wasn't so concerned with people seeing my backside. After all, an ass looks like an ass. It's faces that are discernible. I took a deep breath, wrapping my arms around my chest before I turned.
“We'll have none of that,” he said, grabbing my shoulders and forcing my arms back, exposing my breasts for all the world to see. My body shivered with want from his touch, the intimacy of it sending need surging down to my cunt.
I could feel the heat emanating from his body as he followed me to the window. Soon, I was standing in front of it, staring outside at the world. The little businesses surrounding the area were dark. Only one parking lot had a car in it, but the business in front of it looked empty, as did the car. After a few minutes, I began feeling more secure standing there naked.
“How are you liking being naked for all the world to see?” Damien whispered into my ear, his voice strangely seductive. I shivered as I felt his fingertips graze my skin, moving my hair away from my shoulder.
“It's not as bad as I thought it would be,” I admitted.
“Now that I've exposed you physically, it's time to expose you emotionally.”
I watched his face in the mirror. There was something different about him—the way he looked at me. His eyes stared hungrily at my neck, and when he took a step closer, I felt the bulge in his jeans pressing against my ass. My cunt throbbed in approval, my labia puffing up with desire.
“I . . . I'm not sure what you mean.” I was close to the window, so close to him. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, quite literally, for half of the metaphor. The closeness was beginning to make me feel claustrophobic, but I dare not move.
“Let's talk about what you really want from me, Cheyenne.”
“What I really want from you?” I gulped hard, feeling my cheeks burn. My entire body was on sensory overload as a million thoughts streamed through my mind at once, devious thoughts, filthy thoughts, sexually depraved thoughts, thoughts that would never pass my lips.
“Yes. I think I know what you want.”
His lips pressed softly against my neck, and I bit my tongue, trying to suppress a groan. When he pulled away, I felt oddly lonely . . . and empty.
“I'll give you what you want on one condition,” he said.
“What condition is that?” my voice sounded pathetically desperate, and I hated myself for it.
“You cannot turn around. If at any point, you turn to look at me, the game will be over. You'll never see me again.”
Those words were painful, and I knew I would do whatever it took to have him.
“I won't turn around, I promise.”
“Good girl.”
The sound of his zipper being pulled down was almost deafening in the quiet of the room. I kept my head as straight as a sentinel, afraid to move, though I did my best to look at the mirrors with my peripheral vision. The image was skewed, so I had to rely on my imagination to fill in the blanks, though the audible cues were pretty telling.
A condom wrapper crinkled, and my mind flitted back to that time in his office, when I had almost had him. He had been on top of me, pressing his glans against my passageway. Then I had ruined it by blurting out I was a virgin at the last moment. I still wasn't sure if I regretted that or not. Mostly, I didn't. If I had let him have his way with me back then, we might not be doing what we were now. And this was so much hotter than a one-time fuck.
The condom wrapper was tossed to the floor, and Damien stepped up behind me. I felt him wrap a hand around the back of my neck, and then he forcefully pushed me against the glass, my breasts making contact first, my erect nipple fighting back. A frightened gasp left my lips. He had never been this forceful before—this dominant. Not since that day in his classroom—that amazing day that made up a large part of my masturbation fantasies ever since.
His hands went to my hips, and he pulled me back a bit. I kept my chest pressed against the glass and spread my legs, knowing that's what he wanted from me. My thighs quivered as I felt the bulbous head of his fuckstick pressing between my legs.
“This is what you want, isn't it?” he asked, teasingly rubbing the tip against my lower lips. He massaged it up and down my slit, then nudged my soft folds aside to poke at my entryway. I was too stunned to say anything—too much in disbelief of what was happening. “I'm going to pull it away if you don't tell me the truth,” he threatened.
The words left my lips without a second thought. “Fuck me, Damien. I want you inside of me.”
“You've wanted this since the pen, haven't you?”
“Yes,” I breathed, feeling shameless and filthy and wonderful, all at the same time.
“How much do you want it?”
“More than anything in the world. Please. Please. I need your cock,” I begged.
The moment he bucked inside, I thought I might break from having it in me. There was an almost excruciating tightness as his glans tunneled into my wet channel, but it was the best kind of excruciating I had ever felt.
“Oh God!” I cried out, holding onto the glass for support as he angled his hips and then rotated them. The feel of him spreading my inner walls about drove me over the edge. My swollen pussy lips slurped at his cock as he began pumping in and out of me, teasingly slow. Every few soft thrusts, he'd draw all the way back and then pound into me, making me squeal.
A car drove down the street, and I was so lost in blissful ecstasy that I hardly noticed it until its taillights had almost disappeared into the distance.
Damien reached a hand around me, slipping it between my legs to touch my heated core. My clit responded to his fingers, pulsing wildly as he began to massage up and around and over it, keeping to a steady rhythm of fucking me all the while. He was breathing heavily, his body arched at an angle where he was nearly picking me up with every thrust, filling me completely. Everything in me wanted to turn around, grip his hair, and pull him to me for a heated kiss, but I knew better than to move. If I wanted the pleasures of Damien's body, I would have to do exactly what he said.
I felt like a complete slut, resting my face against the glass as I brought my hand up to tweak one of my nipples. That small bit of extra stimulation was enough to make my clit fire off beneath Damien's fingers, and I swear I saw stars as my entire body went into sensory overload. If I'd ever had a better orgasm, I couldn't remember. I moaned and cried out, not caring if every person in the world heard me.
Damien grunted behind me, and I heard his breath hitch, his cock hammering into me a few more times before his body began to still, and I knew he had come too. The thought of draining his manhood dry made me feel absolutely accomplished, as if I had just mastered a sex God. I squeezed my tunnel around him, helping to milk out the last drops of his orgasm, pushing my hips back a bit, wanting to feel his full hot pulsing length inside of me for as long as I could.
He leaned over and kissed my sweaty back before pulling out, the absence of his cock leaving me feeling empty, though my body was thoroughly satisfied. While he pulled the condom off and zipped his pants back up, I stayed against the window, savoring the moment. The cool air kissed my heated cunt, sending a pleasant tingling sensation through me, teasing my lustful body.
“You can get dressed,” he told me finally, and I pouted as I pushed myself away from the window and turned to grab my clothes off the floor.
“Best lesson yet,” I confessed, feeling stupidly happy.
“I'm glad you think so,” his voice was gentle, softer than normal. “Listen, I've been thinking a lot about you lately.”
You have? This is news to me. My heart fluttered, and I held my breath as I listened to him speak. Please, let this be the part where you ask for something more. I can be your girlfriend. I don't care about the age difference. I would so be your girlfriend. Just ask, and I'll say yes.
He continued, “I would like to take our lessons to the next level.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Hadn't we just taken things to the next level? I was pretty sure that pressing me against the glass and fucking my brains out counted as taking things to the next level.
“I want to start teaching you about BDSM.”
“A-Alright,” I replied, a bit disappointed. The next level could have meant so many other things—so many preferable things.
“The lessons can get pretty intense and will be a bit more time consuming.”
“What kind of lessons?”
“Lessons in obedience will take the longest. I might require you to stay overnight to test how long you can stay in the role. There will also be lessons in bondage, and generally testing out your tolerance for certain things.”
The idea of being tied up by Damien Reed was very appealing, especially if he spanked me afterward. That was what BDSM was about, I thought, spanking and all the naughty taboo stuff that everyone secretly loved but nobody ever talked about.
“I think I'm okay with that,” I said.
“Good. We'll start your lessons next weekend, the same time as usual. I won't be able to meet with you tomorrow because I have a conference all day, and I'm sure I'll be completely wiped out afterward.”
“Alright.”
He stood, and I took that as an indication that it was time to leave. We walked to the door, and then I waited outside while he reset the alarm and locked up. Without so much as a hug or goodbye, Damien Reed climbed back into his Corvette and pealed out of the parking lot, leaving me there completely lost in thought.
I crawled into my car, locked the door, and rested my head on the steering wheel. Now that the magic sexual moment was over, reality was starting to sink back in, and I wasn't sure if I liked it. My whole plan to get closure from Damien had been completely blown by his commanding voice and sexy body. He was wickedly bewitching, and I hated him for it.
My thighs ached with the memory of him bucking between them, but it wasn't the only part of me that hurt. Somehow, I felt like I had betrayed Chase by sleeping with Damien. We weren't a couple, but still. I knew Chase expected me to be exclusive to him. Even though I hadn't promised him a relationship, what I had just done with Damien felt wrong.
I spent the rest of the night hating myself for being so weak. Not only had I let Damien Reed fuck me, but I had also agreed to future lessons with him, which so hadn't been in the plans. If I kept seeing him, these twisted feelings that I had would never go away. Part of me didn't want them to go away. Some sick sad ember inside of me liked the way he made me feel. Not the crying and depressed part, but everything else. Damien sexually excited me in a way that Chase never could. He was a complete anomaly. I was never certain what he was thinking or feeling, and the mystery of it drove me insane.
It baffled my mind that Damien never once brought up the fact I had dropped his class and ignored him. He had greeted me as if everything was normal, though he had sure acted different once he had me pressed against the glass. That was Damien Reed in his most animalistic form, a side of him that I hadn't seen since that first day in his classroom. I couldn't figure out what it all meant, or if it meant anything at all.
The next day, I decided to drive over to my mother's house. While I talked to her on the phone every night, it had been some time since I had seen her in person. Not since the hospital.
She greeted me cheerfully, ushering me inside and offering me some left-over pizza from her job. I graciously helped myself to a few slices from the assortment she had taken from the buffet the day before.
“So, tell me about school. How are your grades?” she asked.
Surprisingly, despite all the drama in my life, I managed to keep my grades high. She beamed with pride, grateful I was taking college seriously.
Then came the question I had dreaded having to answer. “And boys? Have you met any boys?”
Part of me thought about lying, but the truth of the matter was that I really needed some advice.
“I have,” I replied hesitantly.
“Well, tell me about him.”
“Them,” I corrected her, which merited me a smack in the arm.
“Cheyenne Grear. Don't tell me that college has turned you into a hussy.”
It was sure beginning to feel like it.
“It's complicated,” I told her.
“Details. Details.”
I grinned halfheartedly. “Well, there's this one boy. You remember him. Chase Vogel.”
“Yes, I remember Chase.” She nodded. “So, the two of you finally happened?”
“Yes, and no. We've kind of been seeing each other, but he wants to get serious, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for that.”
“Why not? The two of you have known each other forever. You've practically been dating for four years.”
“We never dated,” I insisted, a bit annoyed that she was making things into what they weren't.
“Well, it sure seemed like it to me.” She shrugged. “You two were always together in high school. I thought you made such a cute couple. I like his family too, which is rare.”
“I know, Mom. Jeez, would you let me finish talking.”
“Fine. Fine. Sorry. I was just saying.”
“I know.” I sighed, “I'm not sure if I want to get serious with him yet because I'm kind of seeing another boy too.”
“Oh, a love triangle.” She grinned like the Cheshire cat.
I dare not tell my mom that Damien was far from a boy. While she had a thing for dating older men, she didn't like the idea of me doing it. My biological father was the only guy she'd been with that was anywhere near her age. Most other guys she dated were at least ten years older.
“It's not exactly a love triangle,” I continued. “Chase doesn't know about this other guy, but the other guy knows about him . . . sorta.”
“Well, from what I've seen between you two, Chase is a pretty good catch. What about this other guy is making you hold off?”
“Chase is a good guy,” I admitted. “He's a great guy. But I'm so used to him. We know one another like the back of our own hands.
“This other guy is different. He's exciting and sexy and . . . I can't figure him out. When we're together, he really makes me feel alive.”
“Does he treat you good?” she asked.
No. Yes. There really wasn't a right answer. Damien treated me the way a teacher would treat a student . . . until the cheer studio. Then Damien treated me like something else entirely. A lover? A sex object? I wasn't quiet sure.
“I think what I feel for this other guy is mostly lust,” I told her, feeling strange to finally be truthful with myself. “But it's like I'm addicted to him. Whenever I'm around him, there's just . . . sparks.”
“Well, sweetie, there's a really big difference between love and lust.”
“I know that,” I sighed.
“I don't know this other guy, but I know that Chase has always been there for you. He loves you from the bottom of his heart. Anyone can see that. If you truly think that you just have lust with this other guy, then maybe you should really consider what you'd be throwing away just to get your rocks off.
“Lust comes and goes. There will always be men out there you'll physically want more than the guy you're with, but at the end of the day, it should be about who treats you right.”
I knew she was right. Chase was the obvious answer, but I just couldn't see myself letting Damien go. Now that I had a taste of him, my body couldn't get enough.
I left my mother's house feeling no less confused than when I got there. Why did choosing between Chase and Damien have to be so hard? The decision was about to drive me mad.
It wasn't until I got home that night and was laying in bed that I came up with a solution, albeit, a very greedy one. Why couldn't I have both of them? It wasn't like I was in a relationship with either one of them. Sure, it was kind of a sketchy thing to do, but in truth, I still wasn't sure if I wanted to commit to Chase, and I was far from done having lessons with Damien. If I could hold on to both of them for just a little while longer, then maybe I would eventually make up my mind. At least, I hoped I would.
Chase would stick around if I kept avoiding the relationship question, I was almost certain of it. Hell, he had stuck around for over four years already, hiding his feelings and standing in the background as I dated other guys. What were a few more months? Surely, I'd get burnt out on Damien Reed by then. All the guy had to offer me was sex. Blissful amazing mind-blowing sex. But just sex, none the less. That wouldn't be enough to keep me around forever, would it?