MICHELLE
“He did what?!” The look on Erin’s face is one of complete disbelief. She certainly wasn’t a prude, but when I told her what Cal Ross did to me in my own classroom, even she couldn’t contain herself. “And you let him do that? I mean, this wasn’t forced was it? Did he hurt you?”
I run to her side, reassuring her I’m okay. “No, no. It wasn’t forced at all. I mean, we were both flirting and one thing led to another. I didn’t ask him to do it, but I didn’t stop him either. And by the time he was going down on me, I was all in.”
“Jesus Christ, Michelle. I mean, I know we’ve partied enough before, but Jesus Christ! I never knew you were so…” she trails off, her eyes wide, searching. I'm actually a little impressed with myself: I’ve managed to shock the unshockable Erin.
But I get where she’s coming from. I haven’t had a guy in my life in a year, not since Denny and I broke up. And even then, he broke up with me because he thought I was too vanilla. He was trying new flavors even when we were talking about getting engaged. But when the big moment came, it was the exact opposite of what I thought it would be. Instead of a ring, I got a return of my house key and a goodbye forever.
Since that day, I’ve been single in bed. I haven’t even been into pleasuring myself. It just wasn’t my thing. After a while, I really didn’t miss it. I even stopped looking for that guy who would turn this all around. Who needed to deal with the drama, the commitment, the messiness of it all? I learned quickly that the only person I could trust and depend on to make me happy was myself.
I look down at the paper he gave me. I haven’t set it down since. It’s just been crumpled in my hand, turned over and over again as if something new would write itself on it. I turn back towards Erin, “Here’s the thing – he wants me to meet with him tonight.”
“You’re kidding me!” She leaps to her feet excitedly. Obviously being an heiress has made her life so boring that me getting a little action is completely thrilling. “What are you gonna wear? Or, more importantly, what are you not gonna wear?”
I give her a smile before returning to my reason for telling her all this in the first place, “Do you think I really should go over there? I mean, this is a father of one of my students. If I got caught, I would be fired. It’s in the rule book and everything.”
I’m not a rule breaker. In fact, I’m the one that usually volunteers to make the rulebook! I volunteer for clubs that pick the hall monitors or the after school program for those who want to participate in student council. The idea of getting caught at a parent’s house after school hours or, worse, getting caught being intimate with him, would destroy not only my career but also my reputation! I couldn’t risk that.
“Are you seriously worried about being caught? What parent is gonna go over to a motorcycle clubhouse late at night, see you and him together, and then get the nerve up to report it to Ms. Western?”
Erin’s right. Where Maddie lives, no parent would dare to go. At least not the type of parent who would actually rat me out. If I were going to where my rich students lived with the parent’s all in my business, then I might have issues. But the whole clubhouse thing presents an entirely different issue…
“Okay, but what about this clubhouse thing? Do you know what they do there? Drugs, sex, violence… do you think it’s safe?”
Erin pauses. I’ve got her there. Neither of us are exactly bad girls, though Erin runs a bit wilder. Money allows her to do that. But even she would hesitate if some burly motorcycle man invited her back to his seedy den of illegal activity. However, she seems to have a change of heart as she looks at me with a chipper, self-satisfied grin, “Bring your pepper spray and phone. If you get into trouble, text me the number 8, and I’ll be there in seconds flat. Or, I’ll call the police. Problem solved!”
I can’t argue with that. And really, I don’t want to. After Cal left me wanting on that desk, that build up hadn’t disappeared. It has only grown. I want to finish it off and to see what it is like to cross over to the dark side. I’ve gotten a taste of wild, and I want the full bite no matter the danger ahead.
I head up to my room and change into the sexiest, yet not desperate outfit I can find. I don’t want to look like I want this, and I still want to come off as a professional. After all, he did say that he wanted to discuss Maddie’s progress. That’s reason enough to pick a knee length dress. But his magic tongue is the reason it’s strapless with a sweetheart neckline. His fingers dictate my need for ruby red lips and my hair tied back in a tight ponytail.
With Erin’s approval, I’m off. The drive takes me to a part of Washington City that I have yet to venture. No streetlights, no one walking on the street. The houses are either boarded up or sealed shut with windows and doors with multiple locks. I park my car under the one dim, flickering light next to an ancient phone booth and press the lock button.
Cal is waiting for me at the front door. He leans against the wooden, chipped frame, his arms crossed coolly in front of his chest. He’s still got that tight black t-shirt and dark jeans on from earlier today.
“You’re early, you know.” I can’t tell by the tone of his voice if he’s angry or not. Then again, he’s a hard guy to read even when he’s being obvious. His body language is just always steamed.
I try to make a joke, “To be early is to be on time. To be on time is to be late. To be late is to be—”
“Dead.” He laughs almost manically, “My dad used to say that when I showed up five minutes after a meeting had started.”
“A meeting? A family business?”
“Something like that.”
Cal ushers me inside to a small front room where a few men in black leather jackets and huge motorcycle boots are playing cards loudly. The smell of smoke fills the room almost instantly when Cal closes it behind me, sealing me in. Behind the men are two women, cleaning up beer cans and bottles discarded on the floors and couches. Compared to them in their tight jean shorts and cut off tops, I feel so out of place. Yet no one even takes notice of me.
I follow Cal back towards a kitchen where Maddie is scribbling on a drawing notepad. When she sees me, her eyes light up. She holds up her notebook proudly for me to see, “Miss Springer! Check this out!”
I study the drawing she’s done. It’s of a sunset and an open road. In the center is a motorcycle riding towards it. The drawing itself is excellent, way advanced for her age. It has perfect shading and intricate lines. I’m impressed. “This is amazing, Maddie!” I say earnestly, “I had no idea you were such a great artist!”
“Thanks! Dad got me these pencils and drawing pads for Christmas last year. It’s what the pros use!” She looks up at Cal with a wide smile. This is the first time I’ve seen her look at him with anything but fear. And to see her do it here, in this run down house full of men screaming and drinking, is way out of what I'd expected.
Cal kneads her shoulders with his hands and then says, “How about you take that upstairs? Miss Springer and I have got some talking to do.”
Maddie obediently leaves, taking her drawings with her up the stairs to where I assume her bedroom is. I watch her walk away, stepping over discarded shirts and bottles. Cal notices my disapproving look and adds defensively, “I know this ain’t what you teachers want to see, but it’s our reality.”
“It’s, uh, different. But I don’t usually make house calls, Cal.”
“Something tells me someone like you doesn’t do any type of house call…”
I get his implication almost immediately. I’m surprised at how quickly he can turn that smooth charm on. He’s an easy, horrible flirt. But I take the bait. “I make enough house calls.”
“Really? When’s the last time you did one?” He sits down at the table, and I join him in the seat across from him.
Defensively, I respond, “It’s been awhile, okay? But I made them.”
He leans back, his arms still crossed as he studies me. After a long moment, he leans over and picks up Maddie’s backpack. Fishing for a notebook, he pulls a black one out and hands it to me, “My girl’s smart, you know. And she doesn’t deserve to be in remedial classes. Maybe she’s bored and acting up because you don’t challenge her enough.”
It’s a fair point. And he has the evidence. The notebook is full of perfect spelling and English tests. My handwriting marks them all. “Maddie is brilliant, a hard worker, a creative mind. But she still struggles. I don’t see any social studies tests in here. If you had those, you’d see that she's failing to pick up on important facts and figures that is important for junior high.”
I hand him back the notebook and he thumbs through the papers quickly. Maddie cleverly forgot to put those tests in the pile of perfect performances. He growls towards me, “She still doesn’t deserve to be in that classroom.”
“No, she doesn’t. But it wasn’t her learning or test grades that got her there. It was her behavior. Maddie cannot act like – like a—”
He finishes what I want to say, but don’t dare to, “Like me. She’s acting like me.”
I stiffen my lip and nod in agreement. “She can’t act all big and tough. It’s not gonna get her anywhere in school except in the principal’s office where I can’t help her.”
“That’s bullshit. You know she was just fucking standing up for herself. You expect her to get pushed around by some bastard’s son?”
“No, I don’t. I don’t expect that at all. But she should've told me instead of running to him.”
Cal stands dramatically, the papers on his lap falling to the ground. “I didn’t raise no rat!” he fumes.
“And I don’t teach barbarians,” I return simply.
That shuts him up. I’d crossed a line just there, and it amps the tension up a hundredfold. Something has shifted between us. I stand as well, grabbing my purse from the tabletop. My eyes search for the door, but how he's breathing heavily, terrifying and enraged, keeps me in place.
He takes a step towards me, just as he did earlier today. And then, I feel it. His hand wraps around my head and under my ponytail. He pulls me in close and up, finding his lips. My arms hold in their place at my side as he locks me in. I don’t dare to move. I’m too overcome with the power of his mouth and his breath in mine.
Cal takes another step towards me as we embrace, and my hand lands on his hard, steely chest. I give in, placing the palm on it, feeling the vibrations of his heart underneath his shirt. It’s the same frantic rhythm of mine. My other hand wraps around his neck for balance as he lifts me up to my toes, putting me face to face with him and his mouth.
Then, it happens. A bang. A shout. Glass breaking. Cal pulls me down to the ground, breaking the table under our weight. He’s on top of me, holding me firmly in place as I scream into the darkness.