Play Dirty

by Jessie K

  He still hadn’t settled on what this teaching job was. The summer definitely felt like a mountain, one he’d had to combat in the sweltering temperatures with a tiny air conditioning unit and a refrigerator full of condiments. There were high points—landing small roles in boutique theaters, the commercial was nice just to say he was on television, and a fair share of pretty girls in his bedroom. Some more memorable than others.

  One, really, if he was being honest. Just that one. A brunette with amazing tits and a cell phone that was disconnected. Fucking heartache. She’d used him, and he’d die for the chance to let her do it again.

  Eventually, he learned to stop letting his heart overtake his mind. When her number came back as disconnected, he had gone into an alcoholic tailspin, but it didn’t last more than a night or two. Nolan reminded him he was Matthew Fucking Flint. He had abs of steel, guns for arms, and a smile that made panties wet across the bar.

  Nolan’s words, not his.

  Only getting a good role could truly soothe his ego, though. Hell, he had even started growing his hair out for a man bun. Go fucking figure. By this time next year, he’d be able to dazzle all the ladies and directors alike with his luscious hair. Worst case, he’d chop it all off and donate it, but why not?

  Besides, high school teachers with ponytails were the cool teachers. And if he had to be a teacher, he was going to be a cool one. Maybe he could even inspire some chubby kid reminiscent of his old self, and watch a new and budding career develop. Matthew could take him to auditions and give him plays to read, all the things his teachers did for him growing up.

  If he couldn’t be on stage, he could at least impart his love for the craft into young minds. Or spend the whole period silently calling them assholes and drinking in the employee breakroom. He had already seen the flasks passed around in the breakroom after first period.

  His first planned assignment was to get everyone to talk about their experiences with acting or the theater, and what drew them to it. No points awarded for “I had to take an art credit,” either.

  Mr. Flint was going to be kickass and firm.

  Although if it didn’t take up the entire class period, he had no fucking clue what to do. Lesson plans were sort of David-meets-Goliath at the moment, and he didn’t know where the hell to find a slingshot.

  The next set bell rang, announcing the start of the period. Matthew took a deep breath and collected his papers. If he could audition in some of the biggest theaters in the City, he could take on a group of theater kids. The tardy bell sounded and he was out of time.

  He stepped into the room, full of bodies, and went straight to the board. He wrote Mr. Flint—Theater III in neat letters and drew a line under them. It felt very official. Next stop was his podium, where he could grip the sides and pretend he was fearless against twenty-three vicious and soul-eating high school students.

  “Welcome to Theater III. My name is Mr. Flint and I’ll be your teacher this year. I’m a professional actor on the Broadway circuit and very excited to teach you the depths of theater from someone who has truly been there. But first, roll call. When I call your name, please let me know if you have an alternative name you’d like to go by. Be forewarned, if you want to go by something inappropriate, that’s how your parents will read your names in all the school programs.”

  Minor laughter. Not off a terrible start. He was finally brave enough to cast out a cursory glance at his class, full of those who would hopefully love the stage as much as he, making this “real job” less painful. And he nearly had a heart attack on the spot.

  There, in the front row, dead center, looking lovelier than ever …

  His Juliet.

  Part Two

  PART TWO

  chapter one

  Summer ending was high on the list of shitty things about summer vacation. The rest of the list encompassed awkward tan lines, sun burns, sand in the crotch, and sweating on the subway.

  Everything else was magical and perfect. No school, no homework, no curfews… mostly.

  There were bonfires with wine coolers hooked up by Dana’s sexy older brother, and movie marathons that involved starting at one end of the building and sneaking into each theater on the way back to the snack bar. Cruising down 95 with her mother’s convertible top down, screaming along to the Chicago soundtrack.

  Her first professional theater audition.

  Her first professional theater actor.

  It was a damn good summer.

  The pillared spectacle that was her high-school death trap threatened to ruin all of it before she stepped foot inside the over-bleached hallways. Lynn spent her last few weeks of freedom begging to finish school by correspondence to further her theater career, but that apparently went against everything the Viggiani legacy stood for.

  Or something equally fucking absurd that came out of her father’s overstuffed mouth and fell promptly out of her deaf ears.

  Her career path wasn’t exactly endorsed by Daddy Warbucks and his Plastic Surgeon Empire or her mother’s Thinly Veiled Top Secret Law Domain, but acting meant drowning in golden stage lights and visitors gossiping with your name on their lips, and Tony awards and possible film adaptions.

  Whatever legacy her parents intended could just as easily be fleshed out with her own desires. It wasn’t prestigious, but it was fame. They’d come around then, she knew it. Lynn just had to prove she could do it, prove she was actually working her ass off and not just dicking around.

  Otherwise, she’d be SOL on any help with college.

  So she limped through the day, ready to give only the barest minimum of fucks required to make it to graduation. That was her mantra—One more year. Ten more months and the brilliant lights of Broadway would be her home.

  Her schedule was light enough, thanks to some heavy lifting in her earlier, more academically-centered, years. The ones before she stumbled onto the stage and fell under its intoxicating spell, to make it bearable: free period, library aid, Advanced Algebra with all the other seniors who didn’t care enough about their final year to take a real math class for the fourth required credit, and then Theater III to fill her schedule before lunch.

  Library Aid was a sacred spot, because you got to sit around and read all day. Lynn learned the basics of the classification system used to replace the Dewey decimal and then lounged on a cozy chair to read some Palahniuk.

  Theater III was what she really looked forward to; rumors promised the new teacher was exceptionally attractive. More importantly, those in Theater III always had a leg up on leading roles for the fall production. There was no way Lynn was going to accept a minor role after tasting Broadway. None.

  It was every bit her intention to ensure the sexy new theater director understood she was lead actor quality.

  Unless they were doing Our Town again, because God help her, she couldn’t stand another eight weeks of endless pantomiming.

  After dancing with integers in math, Lynn met Dana in the theater department hall. Her best friend was flushed red and breathless. “Guess what!”

  “Oliver asked you to homecoming?”

  “Oliver asked me to homecoming!” Dana screeched, jumping up and down.

  “You know it’s like a month away, right? What if he changes his mind? Or what if you change your mind, because you’re a saucy bitch who doesn’t need some man to hold her down?”

  Dana rolled her eyes and stuck out a hip to rest her hand on. “Seriously? That’s the best you’ve got, Miss I Banged A Totally Hot Older Bearded Sex God Over the Summer?”

  “Shh!” Lynn hissed at her, but couldn’t hide her grin. “That’s between us, bitch! Also, you’ll note he’s not my homecoming date.”

  “Yeah, well, your bad for the handling of that situation.” Dana said. “Don’t squash my Oliver-tinted dreams over here, best friend.”

  “Sorry, sorry. That’s so exciting!” Lynn screeched and bounced around until Dana’s eye roll became severe. “Really, though. That’s awesome. I need a
ll the details.”

  The warning bell rang, announcing thirty seconds before the next class began.

  “Text me!” Lynn said. “And hey, is the theater teacher as hot as everyone says?”

  “Hotter!” Dana ran down the hall towards the art hub with her phone in the air. “Texting you now!”

  Before Lynn crossed the threshold of her class, her phone buzzed.

  Chris Pine as Kirk hot.

  Lynn stole a glance around the half empty room. No teacher, but plenty of people she didn’t want to see, including Aria Levens, her biggest theater rival since sophomore year, and her GPA rival since fifth grade. Lynn was pretty certain Aria wanted to be her more than she wanted to be famous.

  “Lynn!” Aria exclaimed. She was cozying up to Matt Lewis and Brad Smith, both obvious shoo-ins for leading roles this year, on the other side of the classroom. It was almost enough to make Lynn reconsider the leading role herself. Almost. “I didn’t think I’d see you in here!”

  “Maybe you should ease up on the thinking, Aria. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” Lynn scrunched her nose and grinned viciously before plopping into a seat in the front row.

  “Bitch.”

  “I hope you can make it to the auditions this year, Aria.” Lynn continued texting Dana, giving her a play-by-play of her run in and demanding more information on the Oliver proposal. Basically anything to make it look like Aria was only getting a pittance of her attention, but that she could still burn her hard. “I’d hate to see your peak years wasted because you were in rehab again.”

  Someone let out a low, “Oh daaaaaammmnnnnn.”

  Aria went back to shoving her nose up Matt and Brad’s asses, and Lynn victoriously searched for a gif of Cell Block Tango to send Dana. Being stuck with Aria all year was less than ideal, but at least Lynn set the mood properly. Let the bitch try to oust Lynn’s reign as Senior Theater Queen. Let. Her. Try.

  Dana sent her a text back. I prefer Ding Dong the Witch is Dead, but I guess that’s getting ahead of myself.

  It’s still only the first day. I have plenty of time to kick her in the face.

  She continued scrolling through Giphy for as many Wizard of Oz and Chicago gifs as possible, envisioning each as Aria getting bashed over the head, smashed by a house, poisoned with arsenic. It turned into a full out gif war, growing increasingly more ridiculous.

  A throat cleared, signaling the mysterious new theater teacher had arrived. Lynn slipped her phone under the table and searched for one last gif to send back to Dana, preferably one with a ton of eye rolling and no-fucks-giving. She had priorities.

  “When I call your name, please let me know if you have an alternative name you’d like to go by. Be forewarned, if you want to go by something inappropriate, that’s how your parents will read your names in all the school programs.”

  Laughter fizzled around her. Lynn sent her favorite Disney Princess montage gif as a last resort and looked up to see whom Aria was trying to butter up before roll call even began. And dropped her phone.

  It was him.

  Oh gravy god of the heavens, it was him. Her professional actor, her oral sex god, her theatrical mentor with a porn star-sized cock that had left her limping home. It was definitely a good limp, but Lynn thought that sort of thing only happened in the movies. He was all of those things, and now he was standing inches away.

  She never in a million years would have expected the Mr. Flint on her schedule to be Matthew Flint, audition partner. Did he recognize her, too? Did his heart race against his chest and threaten to steal his breath like hers did? Did memories of their time together, entwined between his sheets and layered with lips and intimate touches, wash over him and cause him to go erect while she went immediately damp?

  A giggle, a vicious giggle, from the mouth of Aria Levens, broke through her thoughts and shook Lynn back into the real world.

  “I’ll keep this until the end of class.” Matthew held up her phone, cool indifference radiating from him. “No phones during class. That’s what your seven minutes between periods is for.”

  “Karma,” Aria coughed loudly.

  Lynn felt herself flaming bright red, desperately needing to touch herself while reliving sexy memories, and in equal desperation, needing to punch Aria in the goddamn nose. Having that uppity plastic surgeon daddy of hers came in handy sometimes, like when she needed to know how much Aria’s nose job cost and what it would be like to repair. Lynn felt dangerous and angry.

  He didn’t even acknowledge her. Not an ounce of recognition flowed between them, his eyes only filled with the rigidity of a teacher abiding by the class rules and the cruel distance of someone who had no idea who she was. Even as he resumed class roll, Madelynn Viggiani didn’t break from his lips any different than Matthew Lewis or Bradley Smith.

  He was her teacher, no longer her lover. No longer the man with impeccable muscles and a crooked, thirsty smile before he licked between her legs or groaned as she swallowed his cock. He was ready to give her acting lessons instead of heady sex.

  Oh good god. She had fucked her teacher.

  Lynn swallowed a moan and tried to catch his attention, anything to get him to break this crystal exterior and admit he knew her, admit their time together wasn’t just one more notch on his bedroom door. Matthew had been falling all over her until…

  Her stomach dropped. Until she lied about her age. Now twice. And he knew. No wonder he wouldn’t look her in the eye.

  “The fall production this year will be a classic: Romeo and Juliet.” Matthew tidied the papers he’d just reviewed, the syllabus or something, information that evaded her while she tried to get him to remember her.

  Her heart stopped. Romeo and Juliet? Lynn’s body was a live wire, seconds from snapping into a small burst of euphoric pleasure. When she was riding him, his hands greedily claiming her body, he called her his Juliet.

  Was this a sign? Was this production for her? She squeezed her legs together and gasped quietly at the shock that went straight to her cunt. If he heard her, he didn’t show it. This had to mean he was thinking of her, this teacher of hers, picturing her naked as he picked the newest play to direct.

  My Juliet. He had to remember her. He had to have known she would be in his class. This couldn’t be anything other than a love letter to her. It had to be.

  If she could, she would throw her legs wide open and fuck herself with him watching. She would touch herself until he couldn’t bear to keep the distance between them any longer, and he succumbed to her sex.

  “Shake all preconceived notions of this love story from your membranes, kids.” Matthew leaned against his podium in a casual way. The way his arms rippled under his shirt had Lynn chewing on her lip.

  “This story is a tragedy, but not in the star-crossed lovers sense. Auditions will be next week. Leading up to then, we’re going to uncover the real meaning behind this deadly three-day love affair, and I want you all to keep that in mind for your auditions. Yes, Miss Levens?”

  Tragedy? But it was always taught as a love story, one of going the distance, up until the very end, to be with the one you loved. Lynn felt dizzy from the directions he was pulling her in. She just needed to talk to him. Alone.

  “Historically, the leads have private rehearsals with the director. Since you’re new here, Mr. Flint, is it your intention to continue this practice?” Aria’s voice was syrupy sweet. Lynn snuck a glance and watched her arch nemesis bat her eyelashes at Matthew.

  “Yes.” Matthew rubbed his hands together. “I have been told that’s how things have worked within the department, and I’d like to carry that tradition forward. My plan is to break it down by scene. Theater is a living thing, and each scene builds upon another to create the backbone of the performance. How you enact those scenes fleshes everything out. We can’t have a solid production without that framework. But we will cover rehearsal schedules after roles have been assigned.

  “Each role is equally vital within Romeo and Juliet. The sta
r actors are not just the namesakes, but the entire supporting cast. Tomorrow, we’ll start discussing why.” The bell rang and everyone shuffled through their things. Everyone except Lynn, whose phone was in the pocket of the teacher she had fucked senseless over the summer. “Come prepared to dig into iambic pentameter tomorrow!”

  Lynn fidgeted in her seat, waiting for everyone to clear out. Aria drifted to the front of the class and asked a million questions about the play, but he politely cut her off and sent her off to her next class. In turn, Aria shot nasty looks at Lynn, like it was somehow her fault the hot new teacher didn’t want to cozy up to her.

  As soon as the classroom emptied, Mr. Flint morphed back into her Matthew. There was the recognition she had longed for. And something else—he was pissed. “What are you doing here?”

  “Me?” Lynn bit her lip, unsure how to handle him like this. “Getting my phone, like you told me.”

  He didn’t appear to like that. “What I mean is, what are you doing in this school?”

  Shit, shit, shit. She tilted her head slightly and tried her best to smile. “Finishing my senior year.”

  He exhaled, heavily, and ran his hands through his hair. It was just as sexy as before, with his hair now a little longer, a little curlier. “You led me to believe you were in college, Lynn.”

  She couldn’t look at him. “I know.”

  “Jesus.” Matthew rubbed his chin and took entirely too long to speak again. “Was that why you never answered my texts or called me back?”

  The flutters returned with a vengeance. He tried to contact her? Oh, she was an asshole. “No… um, that was because I gave you a fake number.” He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think…. I thought you wouldn’t want anything else to do with me after finding out how old I was….”

  “You mean how old you pretended to be?”

  “Okay, after you found out how old I pretended to be… I just had such an amazing time, and I knew you’d never call me back.” He hissed at her to keep her voice down, and Lynn obeyed. “There were too many gorgeous women on stage and then there was little ol’ me. I thought I was just some, like, pity fuck. It would hurt a lot less knowing you couldn’t reach me anyway.”