"How about you don't ask me what I'm doing up here and we all forget about this?"
The one closer to the door nods, curtly, and swipes his key card to open the door. If not for them I'd be stuck up here.
Panting, I jog down into the stairwell and finally sit at the bottom.
First, I feel like I just ran a marathon, of course.
This weekend is going to be great.
Chapter Twelve
Cassandra
In spite of it all, I am not a natural early riser. When I wake my hair is in a giant floof and I stumble through the kitchen, dreading having to wake poor Becky on a Saturday this early. Then again, when I was her age, I was on deck at six thirty every weekend eating Cheerios. I'm old enough to remember the Saturday morning cartoons. I'm dating myself here.
First thing’s first. I am not going to strap myself into a wool pantsuit for this. I don't care how many rumors it starts, I'm wearing casual clothes—jeans and a sweatshirt with the school logo on it, and after I brush my hair to a manageable state, I pull it back and clasp it onto a ponytail with a silver clip my mother gave me. Rather than let it fan and hang loose, I twist it into a quick, sloppy insult to the concept of a French braid and secure the end with a scrunchie. It hangs almost below my shoulder blades that way.
Becky rises on her own when she smells food. I was very clear that we are not stopping for breakfast on this trip, everyone has to show up well fed or they're not getting anything until we stop for gas in New Jersey.
Yawning, I pull some frozen biscuit sandwiches from the fridge and heat them up. I may be an embarrassingly poor cook but I've mastered the microwave—my breakfast sandwiches never have a nasty, inexplicable cold spot. I throw on extra slices of real cheese. Becky needs the protein.
Once we're both fed, we each sling a backpack. My daughter is careful to carry hers just the way I do, one strap over her left shoulder. She even walks like I do. I can't help but grin a little. She even did her hair like mine.
Rather than hop in my car we walk briskly four blocks over to the athletic field, where the school stores the lumbering white van I've signed out for the trip, a sixteen-passenger behemoth.
When I arrive at the meeting point on campus, there's already a cluster of six students waiting to saddle up.
"Becky," I whisper to her, "Remember, it's very, very important that you not say anything about Tyler."
"I know, mom."
It makes it easier, and me a little less panicky, that she actually likes him in a big brother way, so she won't want to mess things up for me. When we arrive, she stays in her seat playing with her little video game thing and I step out and wait for the students, dutifully checking them off the list.
Predictably, Tyler shows up last. Even his walk is cocky. He approaches like God's own gift.
"Now that I'm here we're ready, huh?"
I grunt at him, exasperated, and make a general announcement.
"Before we get on, I want everybody to be clear. We're not stopping until we get to Metropark to catch the train into the city. If you need to eat or use the facilities, now's the time."
"I think she means it," Tyler whispers to no one in particular.
Everyone climbs aboard.
"Ready, honey?" I ask Becky.
Everyone on the bus looks at me like I just sprouted a new head.
"Yup," she grunts, engrossed in her game.
So we start.
It's a long drive. Half of them fall asleep. In the seat behind me, Alyssa is actually working on a paper or something like that, scrawling notes from a book and what looks like the materials Tyler should be gathering for her from her internship. A couple of the others fall asleep, Tyler included. His head thumps against the window and out he goes.
It makes for a quiet drive. I like driving. Road trip driving, anyway, on a nice clear day when I can roll the window down and let go of my cares for a couple of hours with something to keep my mind and hands occupied. For me, it's almost over too soon.
After I maneuver the van into the parking garage where we'll leave it for the weekend—it's too damn big to drive it into Manhattan and the college won't pay for oversized vehicle parking, if I could even find any—I wake everyone up. By now it's just Becky and Alyssa still awake.
Once we're all off, we buy tickets at the counter.
"Everyone," I say, "Pick up tickets for the 10:45 train so we have time to eat here or use the bathroom. There's no rush, we can't check into the hotel until three."
"What happens if we get there early?" Alyssa asks.
"They'll tag and hold your luggage for you. I checked. Everybody good?"
A forest of nods. I desperately want Tyler to come with me but I don't even look at him. Becky does, though, but I don't think anyone noticed. I head to a newsstand with her and we buy protein bars and small bags of Twizzlers and Coke Zeros and both eat and drink the same food, Becky consciously trying to mirror me.
Thankfully, I don't have to herd anyone when the train arrives at the platform. Everyone finds everyone else easily and when the doors open, we head in to a mostly empty train. Tired from the drive, I shove my bag into the rack and take a seat. Becky sits to one side, Alyssa to the other, flanking me. Tyler sits as far away from me as he can on the same car and puts earbuds in, the universal leave-me-alone badge.
The train rolls out, and I sigh.
"Professor?" Alyssa says.
"I'm just tired."
She blinks, curious, but turns away.
I'm not tired, I'm pining. The truth is, I hate Tyler pretending to ignore me. All I want is to go sit next to him and goof around like any other couple taking a train ride. At least it's a short trip. I think there's something about long drives that makes time compress, seem shorter—even the trip back. Or maybe I nodded off.
Either way, we disembark at Penn Station and start walking, the students following me like goslings after a mother goose.
I am not old enough to be anyone's mother on this trip. It's a figure of speech.
It takes about forty-five minutes to get to the hotel in the East Village. It's actually a hostel/hotel and we lucked out in that I was able to book two rooms, one for men and one for women, for the bulk of the group. The two seniors, Alyssa and Tyler, get their own rooms. Even though things are a little tight for me right now, I sprang for a separate room for Becky, too. I tell the clerk to make sure it's next to mine.
I was right, we're too early to head up to our rooms, so everyone tags and stores their luggage and we gather out front.
"Alright, everyone, as you know, we have an itinerary tomorrow, but this afternoon and tonight are free. Anyone who would like to join me is welcome to, but you can go anywhere you like. Remember what we talked about, where not to go and what not to do. You're all adults, but I'm the faculty sponsor for this trip, so if one of you gets abducted, they take it out of my paycheck."
Nervous laughter. Alyssa grins.
"Where are you going?" she asks.
"We didn't have time to put the Guggenheim on the itinerary and I try to visit any time I'm here, so I'll be heading there first, then dinner with my daughter. Alone, of course.
Alyssa volunteers, and so do a handful of others.
Tyler looks totally disinterested. We planned this, though. Becky will be there, so we're not going to be making out at the table or anything, but I know a place to go and no one is going to find us in a city of ten million souls.
"If you're coming with me, I'm taking the subway, so I hope you're not claustrophobic."
After the brisk walk to the station and a short ride uptown, I lead Becky by the hand out onto the Museum Mile. It's early enough in the year that it's still jacket weather for the most part, but the street artists and performers are out. I much prefer this to Times Square. My four followers join me in line. Alyssa asks me to hold her place so she can run back to the corner and take some shots of the museum against a perfectly clear sky.
Inside, we start to split up.
I keep Becky with me, of course, but the students are all interested in different things and wander off until it's just Alyssa and the two of us. She stays close to me.
She keeps doing that thing with her hair that women do when they're trying to get someone's attention. I try to ignore it and comment on the historical significance of North Vietnamese folk art instead.
"You know, after graduation, I'm really going to miss you," Alyssa says, as we reach the top of the famed rotunda.
I pause and look at her.
"Really?"
She nods. "You've been a huge inspiration to me. It's amazing to see a woman in academia who doesn't take any shit from people and doesn't feel the need to worry about smiling too much or being too pushy. I have a lot of respect for you."
"I don't know what to say," I blurt. "I'm honestly surprised."
She laughs. "You really think everyone hates you, don't you?"
I shrug.
"You should try sponsoring one of the clubs, doctor. You know that Steel Mills nickname they gave you, and how people call you the Dragon? We started those as terms of endearment."
"I really had no idea of that."
"I guess I'm saying I respect all your choices, keeping a professional distance and all that. I wanted you to know that not everyone dreads you. It's just the other majors taking you for a required credit that hate you because you make your classes learn."
I smile. "Sounds like you're writing me a review."
She blushes. "I guess I am. This might sound stupid, but you're kind of my hero."
"I, ah, thank you," I murmur, dazed.
What if she knew I was fucking one of the campus jocklords?
"It's getting late. I'm meeting Aiden for dinner. We kind of had a date."
"Oh, where are you going?"
"I guess he wanted to splurge. He got us tables at this restaurant called Dorsia in midtown. I have to get back to the hotel and get in my room and get changed."
She shrugs her shoulders with an airy excitement. I raise an eyebrow.
"Oh," she says. "I think he's going to ask me to marry him."
"What would you say?"
"Yes, duh," she says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"I was married once," I sigh.
"Oh."
She looks down.
"If you're expecting sage advice or a snark about husbands, you're not getting one. If he makes you happy, everything else will come second. A life without love is no life at all."
She stares at me like I just shat out a chicken. A live chicken.
She nods. "Oh, okay," she says.
"Good luck." I offer my hand, and she shakes it.
Sighing, I lead Becky around the rest of the upper floor. Rather than catch the elevator, Alyssa takes the ramped floor back down to ground level.
My heart is fluttering as hard as hers must be. Harder. I'm so excited I feel like if I don't watch myself, I'll lift off and float into space. The elevator feels like it's descending without me.
Outside, in the evening air, there's a chill coming on, but a crisp, pleasant one. I call a ride share taxi and climb in with Becky, just to be sure no one is following me. I haven't heard anything from the person snapping those photos and Detective Hart said the trail has gone cold and she couldn't narrow anything down. I still worry, sometimes, but I've been on my best behavior—and looking over my shoulder.
We step out in the Village. It's really too close to the hotel, only six blocks over, but it's worth the risk. John's has the best pizza in the universe, and I have to have it. Becky has never been here, either.
I was afraid Tyler would be fashionably late, but he's across the street staring into the window of a guitar store, thoughtfully. He spots me in the reflection and darts over to get in line.
The line reaches halfway down the block. The place is first come, first serve, no reservations, and only started delivering last year. It is worth it. Completely, no matter how long the line is. Of course, that doesn't stop Becky from fidgeting madly as we wait.
Finally, there's room for three and we file inside, packing into a booth in the cramped, hectic dining room.
Tyler looks around.
"So what's good here?"
I snort. "Check the menu."
They only have pizza, a couple pasta dishes, calzones, and a few appetizers. This place knows what people are here for.
"Split a large?" Tyler suggests.
"What's your favorite pizza topping?"
He laughs. "If I say pineapple, will you dump me?"
"How did you know that was my favorite?"
"Oh yuck," Becky exclaims, and Tyler laughs.
"I don't eat much pizza. I'll take it any way you want it."
"Well, I like mine with pep, sausage, and ricotta."
"Color me surprised," he says.
When the waitress comes, Tyler, very gentlemanly, places the order on behalf of the two ladies with him. He gets a pitcher of beer for the two of us to split, too.
The pizza arrives fast, and Tyler jerks back when the waitress sets it on the metal rack on the table.
"Dig in," I say.
I barely have time to talk to him while I eat. This pizza is as good as sex.
Well, sex in general. Sex with Tyler tops this.
But in general, yeah.
"You can eat, woman," he declares after I polish off my third slice and wash it down with a long pull on my beer glass.
"We're stopping at one pitcher," he says, warily.
"Boo," I say, and reach over under the table with my leg, pushing the ball of my stocking clad foot into his crotch. He smirks at me and heat rises in a shivering wave. I keep kneading him, feeling him stiffen against my toes.
It would be cruel to make him walk around New York like that, but...
"Have you been to the city before?"
"Yeah, of course," Tyler says. "Mom used to go Christmas shopping up here, if you can believe that. Field trips and stuff, too. Never really as a tourist. I like it. I could see myself living in a place like this."
"I could, too," I sigh. "On the street in a box. With my salary, anyway."
He snorts.
"Yeah, that'd be a shame."
The check comes. I reach for it and he swats my hand away.
"You're my date, I'm paying."
"Tyler," I growl.
"I'm paying for my date."
I smile. "Okay, okay, be the caveman."
"I'll be the caveman later."
I clear my throat and glance at Becky. Tyler smirks.
"Like your pizza, Becky?" he says.
"Yeah, it was great!" she beams. "Can we go now?"
I laugh. She's going to have no problem sleeping well tonight. I've run her ragged with all this driving and walking. She yawns hugely and leans against my arm.
"I think we better get the kid back to the hotel."
"It's too bad we can't eat everything in the city," I laugh. "For somebody that can't cook, I love food tourism."
"I know exactly what I want to eat," Tyler says, leaving just enough of a pause so that neither of us has any illusion what he's getting at. "Sticky's Finger Joint."
I stare at him. Maybe glare a little.
"It's a chicken place up near Rockefeller Center. Best white barbecue sauce you've ever had."
The waitress brings back the change. Tyler says, "Shall we?"
We head outside.
Three blocks into the trip to the hotel, Tyler scoops the flagging Becky up and carries her, despite her size. I have to remind him to put her down when we get in sight of the hotel.
"You two go ahead," he says. "Better if I don't walk in at the same time."
"Yeah," I say.
Nervously, I gather our things from the luggage storage and head up to our rooms. Becky settles quickly into hers and I know she'll be out like a light. I make sure she's situated and give her a forehead kiss.
"I'm right next door if you need anything," I remind her.
<
br /> She nods, and from the way she flops on her bed, she'll be out before I close the door.
I send Tyler my room number and wait.
Fifteen minutes later, there's a knock. I swing the door open, look both ways, and yank him inside. As soon as the door is locked, we're on each other, hands everywhere, attacking each other's clothes.
With a sharp shove, I push him back.
"What?" he says.
"I need to show you something."
"What is it?"
I pull my hoodie over my head and my shirt with it and shimmy out of my jeans, stepping lightly on the carpeted floor. This room is tiny, smaller even than my bedroom at home, so we're in close quarters.
I never thought I'd be doing this for a guy, but here I am, standing in here in a lacy silk demi cup bra, garter belt, silk stockings, and no panties. Don't want anything getting in the way.
Tyler's breath catches and he stares at me.
"You have me at a disadvantage."
"Uh," he says.
"That means get naked."
"Sorry. Blood's kind of rushing out of my head."
He strips with rapid ease, and I start giggling as he bumps into me. In the process, I make a show of falling back onto the bed, shimmy back on my heels and elbows, and spread my legs wide.
Tyler is already so hard he's arched, his cock throbbing with his pulse.
"You had me yesterday," I point out.
"That was just a quickie. You're mine all night."
"This isn't the most ethical student-teacher relationship, is it?"
"Tonight, I'm the boss. Now sit up. You need to learn a hard lesson."
I slip forward on the bed to where he stands and he takes my head in his hand, somehow rough and gentle at the same time, takes his cock in the other, and guides himself into my mouth. I close my eyes and take him in as he slowly rolls his hips, just to the edge of gagging and back again until I gasp for breath and stroke his cock with both hands. I can't stop staring at it, at him. He's like a god.
He doesn't need to do anything for me to attack his dick. He grunts softly and puts one hand behind himself on the tiny cheap desk to keep steady as I suck him, the soft skin of his iron hard cock burning hot in my mouth. I get so turned on from him I can't help it and start fingering myself.
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