The Learning Curve

by Collins, Kelly

  Dean Hollings and I would continue to have sex because it was profitable for me; the only difference was, I would be a better negotiator.

  “Sandra, can you come in here?”

  “I’ll be right in,” I said with a voice full of fake happiness.

  I made him a cup of coffee and walked in wearing my first piece of Chanel. It was a scarf I found on the sales rack at Macy’s after I returned the dress. If I were going to sell myself, I’d better be getting something in return, and Chanel seemed like a good trade-off. I knew Coco Chanel had been a woman with kick-ass taste, and I imagined she’d had an attitude to match. I ran my fingers down the soft silk. Worst-case scenario, I could wrap it around the damn bastard’s neck if he pissed me off.

  “Here’s your coffee.” I leaned over and placed his coffee in front of him. “You have a twelve o’clock lunch with Congressman Harris. He’s meeting you at the Oak Bar.”

  I sat in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. Today, I wore a black skirt with a slit up to my mid-thigh. It actually hadn’t had a slit until this morning when I took a seam ripper to it and gave it that extra something I knew would drive the dean mad.

  He leaned forward, stared at my legs, and licked his lips. Was he thinking about how hard I’d pressed my thighs to his ears Friday night? How my calves had rested on his shoulders while he was pounding into my flesh? Did he remember how I’d locked my ankles around his waist and pulled him deep inside me?

  “Sandra, about Friday night—”

  I wagged a finger in front of me the way a mother does when she’s chastising her child. “We agreed to keep work and play separately.” I uncrossed my legs and folded them to the side, taking any chance of a peek of skin away from him.

  “Right.”

  The frustrated look on his face made me want to laugh. I’d taken control of the situation and thrown him off balance. He might have owned me that night, but I would own him for the remainder of the summer—and beyond.

  “You have a four o’clock with the president of Aptech. He wants to talk to you about some type of technology fair.” I rattled off a few more pressing matters before I stood to leave. “If you have nothing else for me, I thought I’d write to the attendees of the fundraiser and thank them for their generous contributions.”

  He looked at me like I’d grown a third eye. “What happened to you? You’re different.” He stood from his chair and walked around the desk to where I was. “There’s a take-charge attitude about you.” He cupped my cheek and rubbed his fingers against my cheek. “It’s sexy.” He leaned in like he was going to kiss me.

  I turned and walked to the door. “I’ve been schooled.”

  I grabbed the door handle and shut it behind me. I imagined him standing there staring at the thistles and thorns carved into the wood and wondered whether they felt as sharp and painful as the money he’d left on the table.

  * * *

  The next two weeks, I kept him busier than a squirrel collecting nuts for winter. I decided he should give a personal thank you to each benefactor rather than just sit back and collect his big fat checks. I no longer had to fetch lunch because I had him traveling all over the city buying lunch and collecting those donations while I sat at my desk reading Cosmo and collecting my three dollars and thirty-five cents an hour.

  I calculated the amount of time I’d spent with Mark Hollings that night at the fundraiser. Fifteen hours of pure bliss followed by a day of regret got me five hundred dollars; no, that wasn’t accurate. Three hundred of that was reimbursement for the dress. Still, that was over thirteen dollars an hour, what the average Teamsters Union member made. Not bad, but I knew I could do better. I’d seen the look on those men’s faces that night. I’d seen the look on Mark when he finally took me face to face. It was a five hundred dollar shot, and next time I’d take no less. I was worth it.

  When he returned to the office after two, I was in the middle of calling a florist to deliver flowers to his mother for her birthday.

  “I need to see you in my office.” He pointed to the door. “Now.”

  I didn’t hurry. I finished the call before I answered his summons. When I walked in, he was at his desk, pulling down his pants and whipping out his enormous tool.

  One look at it, and every twitch and quiver came back to me. It had taken me until that Sunday to walk comfortably. When you’ve had something that extraordinary inside you, it’s not easy to forget.

  “Shut the door.”

  I did as he asked and then sat on the chair in front of his desk. “Is this something new? Should I be taking dick-tation?” I leaned forward and looked over the desk at him as he stroked his length. A shiny bead pooled at the tip until he touched it, and it disappeared under his fingertips.

  “It’s been a week, Sandra. You’ve been cold and distant.” His fingers gripped harder like he was milking himself, and by the glistening fluid at the velvety head, he was succeeding.

  “You made the rules, Dean Hollings. I’m abiding by them.”

  “Screw the old rules. Here’s a new rule: You ride me right now.” When he talked dirty, I wanted to strip off my clothes and do everything he asked, but I couldn’t be that girl.

  “Are we in negotiations?” I pulled out my steno pad and pen.

  He groaned and yanked on himself a little harder. “What do you want?”

  I sat back and raised my legs to the table, spreading them to reveal I had nothing on underneath. “I want it all, Dean Hollings.”

  “I’m giving you everything I have.” He jerked himself up and down while I watched.

  “I want more.” I let my legs fall open so he could see what I was bartering with.

  “Oh my God. What the hell are you doing to me?”

  “I’ll be inside you if we can come to terms.” I pushed off the desk and stood. Once I rounded the corner, I pulled my skirt to my waist, straddled him, and let the tip slide a fraction of an inch inside me.

  “What do you want?” He lifted his hips.

  “I want you to understand that my value goes far beyond what’s between my legs.” I plunged down and pulled up, hovering over the tip.

  “Why are you mad at me?”

  He lifted his hips to get more penetration. I stood a little taller to make sure it didn’t happen.

  “I’m not your whore. If I were, I’d have charged you a lot more.”

  “You’re mad that I left you money? I thought you’d like the money.”

  I leaned forward and gripped his shoulders, pinning him to his throne. “I love the money. I want the money, but not left on the table like I’m some cheap hooker.”

  His eyes grew wide. “I didn’t mean to treat you that way. I didn’t know how to handle it. That was my first time sleeping with a student.”

  I let out a laugh. “We hardly slept.” I sank slowly down his length and rolled my hips. His head fell back, and soft groans left his lips. “Next time, I want breakfast—hot croissants and coffee while you wrap yourself around my naked body.”

  “Done.” He gripped my hips and pumped into me several times.

  “I want you to tell me how wonderful we were together before you hand me lots of cash and tell me to buy myself something sexy to wear on our next date.”

  I rose up and slammed myself into his lap.

  “Done.” He leaned forward and ran his lips across my neck.

  “I want to have you on this desk.”

  He gripped the cheeks of my ass and placed me in the center of his desk. I leaned left to pull his pen from beneath my cheek.

  “Done.” He slammed into me so hard, the papers on the corner of the desk took flight. “No condom,” he growled out.

  That was a no-brainer since he was buried balls-deep inside me. “No others,” I shot back. “This is an exclusive arrangement. Don’t screw it up.” He pumped inside me until my insides began to quake and shudder. “So close,” I cried out. “Don’t stop.”

  “Not on your life. I own that damn orgasm, and
every one after.” He licked his thumb and rubbed me until he gave me what he promised. My muscles flexed around him and squeezed the release from his body. “You’re gonna’ kill me.”

  “Maybe.” I sat up and pulled a tissue from the box to clean myself up. “But you’ll die happy.”

  He also grabbed a tissue and wiped at his half-hard shaft before he tucked it into his pants. “Please tell me you’re on birth control.”

  I wanted to screw with him and tell him no, but I’d already given him enough to think about today. “I’m young, not stupid.” I hopped off his desk and straightened my skirt. “I take the pill.”

  He looked at his watch, also a Timex. “Grab your purse. I hear food is part of our arrangement.”

  I walked to the door and glanced over my shoulder. “And cash. Don’t forget the cash.”

  Chapter 7

  For the next three weeks, I kept his calendar clear for lunches. We ordered takeout and ate in. That desk of his got a lot of use, and so did the couch. We had yet to try hanging me from the coat hook on the back of the door. He didn’t want to explain to the maintenance department why the hinges were off kilter or how the hook got pulled out, so we kept to flat, horizontal surfaces.

  “I love that dress.” He looked behind me, and when he knew the coast was clear, he pulled me behind the door and kissed me. “I can’t wait to tear it off you at lunch.”

  “No lunch today.” I gave him a peck on the lips and walked past him to his desk.

  “You’re not scheduling me out again, are you?” He looked at me the way a small boy looks when his teacher sends him to the principal’s office. “What did I do this time?”

  I walked back to him and slid my hand down his chest to his groin. “Nothing. You’re perfect.”

  “Then why am I eating alone?”

  What he really meant was, I’m not getting laid, and I want to know why.

  “I have a meeting with my advisor. It’s time to sign up for fall semester classes.”

  A broad smile lit up his face. “Dinner, then.”

  “Dinner?” We never met up after office hours. There wasn’t any need. We both got what we wanted between nine and five.

  “Yes, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

  My heart sped. “Are you asking me on a date? A real date?” Ever since the fundraiser, I hadn’t allowed myself the luxury of thinking of us as anything more than a business arrangement. To consider him as more and have it not be true would break my heart.

  After that morning he left the money on the bedside table, I put us fully in the working-relationship category. Sure, we had sex—daily—but no words of love or adoration were exchanged. He commented on the clothes his money purchased, and he told me how much pleasure my body gave him. That was it. I was his dirty little secret. He was my sugar daddy.

  He straightened his tie and swallowed hard. “I believe I am.” He reached for his wallet and pulled out a hundred. “Take the afternoon off and buy yourself some new lingerie—pink, like the color between your hot, wet lips. I’ll pick you up at six.”

  I plucked the bill from his fingers and pressed my lips against his for a longer kiss. “Can’t wait.”

  The air was crisp, and the sun was out. Everything looked brighter today. This man of influence who had screwed me a thousand ways wanted to take me to dinner. Would things be different if we were dating? I had no idea, but I was happy to explore the possibilities.

  The pep in my step had me skipping to my advisor’s office. Mr. Clark sat behind his desk with his black plastic framed glasses propped at the end of his nose.

  “Congratulations, Ms. Tierney.”

  I twisted my head to the side. Did he know I had a date tonight? No way. One thing I knew about Mark was, he’d never flaunt what we were in front of his colleagues. He was a professional before anything else, and our less-than-professional relationship ate at him. I knew that to be true by the number of times he said he shouldn’t be doing the things with me that he did. Consider, for example, the time I fell to my knees in front of him and pulled his length into my mouth. His doubt lasted about as long as I spent deep-throating him.

  “I’m not following you. Why the congratulations?” I took the seat in front of his desk and pulled out the class catalog. I hadn’t registered for classes before now because I was broke, but if my calculations were correct, I had enough work credits to take three classes next semester. It wasn’t the pace I wanted to keep. My goal had been to complete my coursework in four years, but now I was on the five-year plan.

  “I’m told you won one of the Dean’s List Scholarships for the semester.” He pulled out a form and wrote my name at the top. “I’d recommend you load up since all your classes are free.”

  I was rarely speechless, but at that moment I sat in front of the gray-haired, bespectacled man with my mouth open. “The Dean’s List Scholarship?”

  “Yes, the dean can pick several students per semester to receive this scholarship, and he chose you.” He wrote my student identification number in the corner and set the pen down. “He called personally a few minutes ago to tell me how beneficial you have been to him.”

  I started to laugh. “He’s a real giver.” I thought about all the inches he gave me daily, and I laughed harder.

  “I can tell you’re excited. Shall we get started?”

  An hour later, I was scheduled for a full course load. Classes began in six weeks, which meant my time with Dean Hollings was limited. I debated going back to his office and showing him how grateful I was for his generosity, but instead, I went to see Jennie and tell her about my good fortune.

  “Hey,” she called from across the room as I entered.

  I climbed into a vacant booth and pulled a menu from between the wall and the salt and pepper shakers. Usually, I didn’t need a menu. I ordered the same thing every time I came in, but things were changing for me, and I thought I’d order something different.

  Jennie plopped onto the cracked leather bench across from me. “What brings you here on a Friday?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You didn’t get fired, did you?”

  I closed the menu and slid it away from me. “No, I came to share my good news.”

  She leaned in toward the center of the booth. “He proposed, and now you’re going to be a deaness?”

  “Shut up. No, he did not propose, but he did ask me out on a real date.”

  She flopped back and threw her hands in the air. “That ruins my mom’s theory about cows and milk.”

  “Order me a grilled cheese and fries and then tell me about this theory.” Jennie’s mom was a normal mom. She baked cookies fully clothed. They lived in a house, not a community barn full of mattresses. They had running water. If she was testing theories, I was interested. I’d always wondered how the other half lived.

  “Grilled cheese? Something big must be going down.”

  She flew from the booth, writing my order on her pad while she rushed to the window. I looked around the almost empty diner and wondered how she made ends meet. The clientele was mostly geriatric patients who came in from the old folks’ home located across the street. Geezers weren’t known to be good tippers.

  She came back with two iced teas and a piece of cherry pie. “Spill the beans.”

  I measured two heaping spoonfuls of sugar into my glass and stirred. “You first. What’s this theory about cows and milk, and how does it apply to me?”

  She pressed herself into the corner of the booth and lifted her feet to the top of the bench. She looked more like she was lounging than working. “She always told me to never give up my virginity. If you gave the guy the milk for free, he’d never buy the cow.”

  I pointed to below the table. “This milk just earned me a free semester of college.” I pulled out the hundred-dollar bill Mark had given me this morning. “I also get new lingerie.”

  “I don’t know if I should be appalled or jealous.” She sipped her plain tea and shook her head. “I work for dimes all day long. You
spread your legs for a few minutes and get a free ride and new shit.”

  “Don’t forget the orgasms. I get lots of orgasms.”

  “I hate you.” She lifted her head at the mention of her name coming from the kitchen. “I want a good tip from you.” She left to get my lunch.

  Like usual, she sat next to me and ate half my meal. “How do you do it and not feel gross?”

  I nibbled the end of a fry and thought about her question.

  “I lie to myself.” It was a half-truth; I didn’t mention how this time, I lied to myself about how he wasn’t paying for sex, that he was generous in his gifts because he felt something for me.

  “And you believe your lies?”

  “I have a different view on sex than you do. You were brought up believing the perfect man is out there waiting for you. I was brought up knowing every man can be the perfect man if motivated properly.”

  “You’re using your—” she looked down toward the space between my legs and cleared her throat, “—as a bargaining chip.”

  “No, I’m using it as a means to an end.” I looked around the restaurant. “You’re on the ten-year plan. By the time you’re finished with school, you’ll be ready for a house and kids. Why bother with school if you’re not going to use it?”

  Jennie rolled her shoulders forward. “I need a sugar daddy. Last night, I made a whopping seven dollars and sixty-five cents.” She pulled the change and singles from her pocket and organized them into groups of five. “Today I’m on target to make fifteen dollars if I’m lucky. You lie on a leather couch and let a god of a man do wicked things to your body and you’re set. I’m jealous.”

  I ate around the edge of the grilled cheese, working my way to the gooey center. “We can find you a sugar daddy.” The words were out before I’d considered them.