Stuck With You

by Graham, Abigail

  I want to pull her down closer, but I let her grind it out on me in her own rhythm, but I can't keep my hands off her breasts. When she lets out a little cry, I almost fucking lose it. Part of me wants to just stop fighting it and cut loose in her right now, and part of me wants to roll her over and fuck her brains out.

  God she's wild. I know why they always compare women to cats and foxes. There's something vulpine and predatory about her when she gets into her groove and drags those sharp nails of hers down my chest, daring me to pay her back for it. The way she grins is so feral it's almost a little scary.

  There's one girl...woman...like this in a million. I knew she had something hidden under that steely exterior of hers, but I had no idea she'd be so intense, and she's good. She could keep this going all night if she wanted. She can't help herself, any more than I could.

  She shudders violently and I feel her gripping me and lose control, the pressure suddenly loosed, the climax edging on pain. She continues to ride, wringing every last bit of pleasure out of me until I have to grab her arm and stop her. When I open my eyes, she looks down at my hand and pulls it away.

  "Uh oh," she says playfully, "you left a mark."

  "Yeah, about that, on your neck—"

  She rubs the red spot where I bit her and smirks. No one has ever asked me to do that before. I guess it's all true about the virtue of experience. I almost want to ask her if I made her feel like a virgin, because she totally rocked my world. Every past experience has been a pale foreshadowing of this.

  Cassandra slides off of me and yawns, sitting on the bed. She falls back and tucks herself into my arms.

  "Yeah, just lay there," she says sarcastically.

  I pull her half on top of me and smack her ass.

  "Ow!" she yelps. "You spanked me."

  "Yeah, I did. What are you gonna do about it?"

  Her grin bares teeth as she flicks my lip with her finger.

  "Part of me is wondering just how adventurous you can be," I say.

  "I was thinking the same thing," she murmurs, stroking my chest now. "Just a word of advice, Tyler. If you're going to smack my ass, at least put some effort into it. That didn't even leave a hand print."

  "Are you trying to piss me off?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, I'm not that easily manipulated. It's sad you see me as such a piece of meat."

  She giggles maniacally and squirms against me.

  "It's already getting cold in here. Damn it, if the power stays off for days I'm going to have to go to a hotel."

  "I'll keep you warm."

  "I need to dress."

  I sit up as she pulls away and slips into her bathroom. "Want a shower? There's still hot water."

  "Let's share it."

  "Are you sure about that? You haven't seen my bathroom."

  Damn, she's right. Her bathroom is ridiculously tight, barely room for the two of us to squeeze under the shower head, not that either of us minds. Unfortunately, as soon as we lather up, the water starts to turn cold and we're both jumping out, yelping.

  "Just great," she mutters. "What next?"

  "Don't say that," I say.

  She shoots me a glance. "I didn't take you for the superstitious type."

  She doesn't bother to put anything on under a pair of plaid lounge pants and an oversized Black Sabbath t-shirt, so old it's starting to wear through with holes and the silk-screening is separating. Her ass looks phenomenal in loose pajamas. Damned if I know why.

  She sits on the bed and grabs a brush for her loose damp hair.

  "Wait," I say, taking it from her. "Let me."

  She doesn't protest and slumps against me as I brush out her hair. It's so long and silky and thick. When I catch her eye, she's studying me with a wry smile.

  "Are you getting turned on by brushing my hair?"

  "Mmmhmm," I say, sliding an arm around her. "So there's no TV. What should we do?"

  "You should probably go," she says, her expression sinking. "I mean, I don't know, I...Jesus, Tyler. We had sex."

  "Twice."

  She swallows hard. "Oh God, what did I do."

  "Nothing. I really like you."

  I touch her chin but she hugs herself and looks down to the floor.

  "Nobody knows I'm here. I'm not leaving, Cass. Come here, damn it. Let's warm up."

  I pull her down and curl up with her, drawing heavy blankets and a threadbare old comforter up to our necks. She molds against me under it and tucks her face against my neck, warm breath tickling my skin.

  "I wish I had someplace warm I could take you."

  "I'm scared," she says.

  "Just take a deep breath. We're here now, we can worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. Why don't you call for delivery? Power might not be out all over town."

  "I just want to lay here for a while," she says, her voice already stretched with fatigue. It pulls out into a yawn and her eyes drift closed.

  Pretty soon, she's sleeping.

  I must have really tuckered her out. I grin to myself, satisfied. I feel like I must have reached a very high standard to get all of that out of her and then knock her out. She starts to snort lightly until I gently shift her more onto her side, head on the pillow, and sit up.

  She mumbles something, so I sigh and lay back down.

  I'm actually pretty tired, too.

  The next thing I know I'm awake again. The power is still out. The only light in Cassandra's apartment is from her candles and her phone, which she's currently checking, swiping away at her email or something. I shield my face from the glare.

  "Do you mind?" I say.

  "I'm looking for food."

  "Going to call?"

  "No, app. I hate calling people I don't know on the phone. I get all awkward and sound like a fourteen-year-old trying to give a speech about the civil war with a boner in front of the class."

  "That was an oddly specific simile, Cass."

  "Poor Jeremy. Ninth grade. My first sort of boyfriend."

  "Are you trying to make me jealous?"

  She snorts. "No, I'm not."

  "Do I make you jealous?"

  "Of what?"

  "I don't know."

  "Not jealous, nervous. I was a little worried how I'd stack up compared to grade A sorority girl. Thai?"

  "Can't get good Thai around here. Don't change the subject. You're gorgeous."

  "I'm old."

  "You're fishing for compliments."

  "Guilty."

  "Your skin is like pale fire, the first glow of moonlight on fresh snow. Your hair is like a river at night, flowing over hidden depths. I look into your eyes and could become lost in your stars."

  "That was beautiful," she says, momentarily letting the phone drop. "Is that a quote?"

  "Nope, I just made it up. I stole 'pale fire' from Nabokov, though. Yes, I read a book. Don't look so shocked."

  "I'm impressed," she says, and I think she means it. "I had no idea you had that in you."

  "Well," I say, "things get weird when you're good with playing with your balls. All people want to see is you playing with your balls, tossing them, fondling them, toying with—"

  "You're talking about sports, right? What do you want to eat?"

  "You."

  "I'm off the menu. I've got two rounds in me before I need to, uh, rest up a bit. You tested my limits a little, Tyler."

  "Cassandra, we're both adults. Just tell me I have a big cock."

  "No. It'll go to your head."

  "Funny, when I pull it out that's right where you go."

  "Shut up," she giggles, playfully slapping my shoulder. "Tell me what you want for dinner. I'll buy."

  "I'll buy. I'm the man."

  "I make more money. You work in a bar and you're a college student."

  "Oh, so you think you're better than me?"

  "No," she says, sounding a little bit wounded.

  "It was a joke, Cass."

  She studies me, enigmatic, and bites her lip.


  "You should think you're better than me. You're amazing. Let's get a big order of garbage. Hot wings and pizza and ranch fries."

  "Can you eat that stuff? Won't it throw off your routine?"

  "Oh," I say, "I see how it is. If I get a bad bod and get all thick you won't want me anymore."

  "You're plenty thick for me right now," she purrs.

  "You know what I mean."

  "You're allowed to soften up a little, if I'm allowed to go gray. Here, look."

  It takes her pointing it out three times before I notice a tiny touch of gray hair above her right ear, mostly hidden by the rest of it.

  "Are you joking? You look 25."

  "Don't flatter me."

  "Why would I flatter you after you fucked my brains out?"

  "Alright, alright, pizza and garbage. Help me pick. If you stay here, you'll be bored."

  "Don't you have a laptop or something? Tether it to your phone and we'll watch Netflix. Or hell, just use the phone."

  "Oh, so now we're going to Netflix and chill?"

  "We did the chill first."

  "There was nothing chill about that, big guy."

  I grin. "I like that. Call me that again."

  "I'm ordering."

  She sits up and slips out of bed, throwing on her robe. There shouldn't be anything particularly sexy about a green terrycloth robe, but there is. It's the way she moves, like she'd just dropped a big weight she was struggling to balance and can move freely, throwing her hips into it. Almost like a catwalk.

  Wait. Catwalk?

  Her cat meows. She's been sitting on the top shelf in Cass's closet the entire time.

  "Cass, your cat watched us fuck."

  "Well, it's not like she has anything better to do. Hang out in there until the food comes."

  She swings the door shut, probably not wanting the delivery person to see me, in case it's a student. It could be anyone.

  I don't mind. Hamilton the cat leaps down onto the bed and pads up to me, folding her legs under herself to make a little loaf of cat, and yawns expansively.

  "Well, if you're going to watch the whole thing, you might as well tell me how I did."

  The cat stares blankly. I scratch behind her ears and she rubs her cheek into my palm.

  "Do you want me to be your cat dad?" I whisper.

  It strikes me suddenly, sharply, how easily we started bantering as if this isn't going to stop. Hell, I don't want it to stop. I can't remember when I felt this full, this at ease, this peaceful. Cassandra putters around the kitchen, and I hear her fiddling with glass.

  "You're legal to drink, right?"

  "Like it's ever mattered."

  "I don't want to get arrested for plying you with booze so you'll sleep with me."

  "Too late, I'm turning you in."

  "You're having a wine cooler, then."

  "I...what?"

  Finally, the food arrives. The delivery girl hands it to Cass and she locks the door.

  "No one I recognized," she says as she sets the food on the counter. "I think we're fine."

  We hold a sumptuous feast, propping up my phone on one of the boxes for Netflix. It's not exactly easy to watch, but we're not paying much attention anyway. Cass texts her daughter to let her know and turns her phone off to save the battery.

  "Last thing I want to have to do is sit in the car and charge it while I freeze my buns off."

  "Don't want anything to happen to your buns, now do we?"

  "We most certainly do not."

  When we're both stuffed, she sighs.

  "You're not leaving."

  It's a statement, not a question.

  Back in the bedroom, I crawl into bed with her. She curls up close to me and her breath smells like buffalo sauce and garlic and I like it anyway. She sees me grinning and demands, "What?"

  "I don't know."

  She shrugs, and yawns. Her cat walks over and flops on the bed between us.

  "Oh great," I say. "I guess she's not moving."

  "Never try to move a cat that has found heat."

  Cass sits up and throws a blanket over Hamilton to keep her warm in the cold. It's not quite see-your-breath in here, but the temperature has dropped since the power went out. It's pretty obvious. Cassandra doused all the candles and we're alone in the dark. The only light is from the street lamp outside, muted by virtue of her windows being above it rather than below.

  She sleeps. I fight it off for a while, just to watch her breathing. When she goes to bed, she draws her hair together in a loose ponytail but it still fans out behind her as she lies on her side. In sleep, her fingers move across the bed as if she's searching for something, finally stopping when they brush mine. Fearing I'll wake her, I only lightly take her hand, but she doesn't stir. God, she is incredibly beautiful.

  Finally, I fall asleep.

  Old habit, and a bit of a nap, kicks in. I rise before she does, before the sun is up, and dress. What is this, Thursday? I've almost lost track. Yes, I think it is. My phone went dead in the night. Doesn't matter.

  Cass lifts her head.

  "Wuh?" she says.

  "I have to go, pretty lady."

  She smiles.

  "Take a good hard look at me before I leave, so I know you won't forget."

  "Trust me," she says, in a wry, sleep-thickened voice, "I'm not going to forget that at all. Lock up on your way out."

  "I will. Cass...we need to talk about doing this again."

  "Not here, not soon," she says. She's fully awake now. "Tyler, promise me. You got me in bed. I want more. You won."

  "So what are you saying?"

  "I'm saying," she says, running her fingers lightly over my chest, "that you are going to be a total asshole in my classes, and I am going to be a colossal bitch to you whenever someone else is around, and you are not to sneak around here. We can make arrangements to see each other. I should make you wait until spring break."

  "What if I do wait until then?" I suggest.

  "You'll get tired of me if I don't keep you entertained."

  "Like hell I will. What do you think I am? What do I have to do to convince you that I was not looking for a one-night stand with you?"

  She sighs, looks away.

  "I'm sorry. I have...I have a trust problem."

  "I will never give you reason to doubt me. Just remember, when I'm giving you shit, it's because of this."

  I lean down and kiss her.

  "Tyler," she says, dragging her hand down my arm as I stand.

  "I'll see you in class, professor."

  Her face darkens and I think I see tears welling up, but I don't push.

  "I'll see you there," she says.

  "It'll hurt me."

  "Don't say that," Cass murmurs.

  "Seeing you every day, having to be nasty to you."

  "I won't hold it against you."

  "Are you sure? Two months is a long time."

  She shakes her head. "Maybe we can be a little clever about getting together before then, huh?"

  "Maybe," I say.

  "I'll be in touch."

  I slip out of the apartment and pull the locked door shut behind me.

  When I step out into the cold, I find the street dark except for the lamps. They must be on their own circuit. There's no other lights anywhere. Cass would laugh if she saw this: the blackout only covers her half of her block, a handful of buildings including hers.

  Shaking my head, I make my way over to my car, and stop.

  My car has been here since yesterday. It's not exactly the right car for blending in. When I parked, I thought it was cute to roll my hulking beast of a Bronco in next to the Miata that Cass drives. Kind of a his and hers thing.

  What next, Tyler? Picking out silverware for your house?

  I take a quick look around. Better not stay on the street long. After I hop in and start it up, I pull out and glance up at the Juliet balcony. It's closed and Cass is not there. My chest tightens a little. I wanted to see her one last t
ime as Cass before she becomes Professor Mills again.

  Campus is half deserted. When it's closed, meal service is suspended, so it looks like some of the students took it upon themselves to dig their way out to go get food or let delivery drivers pull up. The lecture halls and offices are all locked and only the dorms are open. A lone campus cop, looking gruff wrapped up in cold weather gear, putters along on a golf cart at about two miles an hour, visibly questioning his life choices.

  In my room, I sit on the cheap task chair the college provides. I haven't even unpacked yet, I still have crap in boxes sitting in here with me. I shrug out of my clothes and wince at the howling wind.

  When I check my phone, I have a notification. I got an email from someone. HotForTeacher99.

  Raising one eyebrow, I open it.

  Cass sent me a photo. She didn't show her face. She aimed her phone camera over her shoulder and sent me a pic of her sleek, curvaceous back, amazing ass, and long lithe legs stretched out behind her.

  One for the road, Tiger, the message reads.

  Oh, you are naughty, aren't you, Cass?

  Chapter Ten

  Cassandra

  My heart hitches in my chest when I step into the classroom. I almost hear it clang against the psychological armor I guard myself with every time I slip on a blazer and slacks. Things were different this morning. I felt a little ill at ease putting on my trademark red lipstick and angular, angry-looking glasses. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn't look so hard, even when I pulled my hair back. Today, for no reason, I let the bulk of it fall over my shoulder, down my front. No one seems to notice.

  Tyler is not here. Of course he isn't. The other students are here, but not him. It's part of the act, I assure myself. He didn't pump and dump me. He wouldn't have looked at me like that and touched me like that if that was his plan.

  "Professor?" one of the seminar girls says. Her name is...Katie. I need to remember their names. I only have seven of them.

  "Yes?"

  "I thought you closed the door promptly at—"

  I give her my best "don't brown nose me" glare and move towards it. On cue, Tyler's hand catches the door and he shimmies into the room, twisting past me with a deftness that defies his muscular mass. He drops into the seat nearest me and flops a notebook open on the table.