Worth It

by Nicki DeStasi

  I nod, absorbing her words with interest and understanding. “So, if I’m happy with Jed and he’s good to me, then I can analyze it to mean that he’s good for me?”

  “Exactly. You could take some other things from that, but yes, that’s a fantastic example.”

  I grin because I know deep down that while it’ll be hard at first to exert this exercise into my everyday life, it will be extremely helpful as well.

  January 26th

  You know how when you’re really sick, but then you start to feel better? Or how your world seems like a horrible hellhole, but then the pain starts to fade, and things start to look a little brighter? I’ve got a similar feeling going on emotionally.

  Today, Dr. Jenson and I talked mostly about my biological father since that’s the start of everything. She asked me what I knew about him, which wasn’t much, but I told her that as far as I knew, he was an alcoholic. She repeated what everyone pretty much says, which is that it’s likely he thinks he’s not good enough for me. I thought it should be my decision whether or not he’s good enough, and it makes me angry that he took the choice to have him in my life away from me. She said that he didn’t take my choice away. I made the choice that I wanted to see him. Then, he made his choice, and for whatever reason, he doesn’t want to see me. I have to learn to accept his decision and move on. I don’t have to like it, but I have to accept it. She also said that an alcoholic’s emotional development stops when he starts drinking, and from what I know of him, that was probably around when he was fourteen, a very egocentric age. Alcoholics are very depressed and self-sabotaging when it comes to relationships. It started to sink in that he’s probably too messed up emotionally to see that he’s hurting me. That it really is him and not me. I’m a good person, and it’s his loss that he’d rather drown himself in a bottle than be in my life.

  I don’t like it, but I think I can accept it. It does feel good to really start to own the knowledge that nothing I do will change him, and it’s on him rather than me if we have no relationship. I don’t know if it’s my mentality that I really want to heal, but it feels good to finally believe in my heart that it’s not my fault.

  I smile while watching my woman walk toward the door, wearing her knee-length skirt and leather boots, showing only an inch of skin between the two. I’m not sure who enjoys her student teaching more, her or me. I get to see her sexy teaching outfits. Her outfits aren’t sexy on purpose. I know that. They’re very conservative, but because I find her so sexy, I think about peeling off the clothes to reveal what’s underneath. Or, it could be that she’s sexy in anything or out of anything. Whatever it is, I love watching her reach out and grab her dream. I envy her in that way. I never had a dream job. I just did what I thought would be interesting, but she has a passion for teaching. She gets animated as she tells stories about the kids. Her stories are always so funny because she’s so excited, and she gets a light in her eyes that she didn’t have before. It’s awesome.

  When she reaches my door, I swing it open and lift her up for a kiss, just like always. With her legs wrapped around my waist, I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of this ritual.

  “Hey, baby,” I greet her, smiling. I let her slide down my body, loving every second of her perfect tits pressed against me.

  She smiles brightly up at me, lighting up my world. “Hey, you. I love Tuesdays.”

  “Me, too.” I bend down to plant another kiss on her lips. Everything on this woman is perfect, perfect for me.

  I step back, so she can take off her coat. “How was your day?” I ask, knowing she’s gonna have some funny stories.

  Her beautiful smile makes an appearance. “Do you know what Sarah said today?”

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” I tease.

  We head to the kitchen to make dinner together, which has become a habit on Tuesdays.

  She opens the fridge to find the ingredients, making her black skirt stretch tightly over her fantastically rounded ass. What do people call it? Apple bottom?

  “Hello?” she says, annoyed.

  I move my gaze from her ass to her eyes, and give her that smile. Her lips twitch, fighting laughter

  “Hey, you can’t blame me when you’re bent over while wearing that skirt.”

  She stands and turns, so I can see her breasts encased in a light pink blouse that fits her just right, not helping my ogling problem.

  “Eyes up here, buddy.”

  “Sorry.”

  But I’m not sorry at all, and she knows it.

  “Can you stop for two seconds?” she says, rolling her eyes.

  I know she loves it though. I tilt my head up in thought, teasing her. I look back down at her and say, “Nope.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fine, then veggie casserole it is,” she says, returning to the fridge.

  Panic flares through me, and I reach out and turn her to me. “Wait—what? Let’s not get hasty here.”

  She bursts out laughing, laying her head against my chest. She circles her arms around my waist and looks up at me. “I knew a meatless dish would get your attention.” She laughs.

  I give her a half-stern look. “That wasn’t funny. I mean, seriously, you don’t joke about food. That’s just wrong.”

  She only laughs harder. “I was asking you before if chicken stir fry was okay, but you were too busy leering at my ass to listen.”

  “Hey! I was appreciating the perfection that is your ass,” I say. “There was no leering involved whatsoever.”

  She rolls her eyes again, still smirking. “Whatever you say, buddy. So, does stir fry work for you?”

  “Absolutely, baby.”

  She turns back to the fridge to gather the ingredients.

  “So, what did Sarah say today?” I ask, trying hard not to get distracted again. It’s not an easy task, considering I have a sexy woman wearing a teacher outfit while cooking for me right now. It’s like someone reached into my head and pulled out my fantasy.

  She turns after gathering what she needs, and she kicks the door closed with her stocking feet. “Can you grab me a cutting board?”

  “Sure,” I say and turn to grab one out of the cupboard for her.

  “So, we were talking about what makes us happy, and she goes, ‘The sun shining down on my face when I’m with my mommy.’ I mean, come on, is that not the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “That’s cute,” I agree, handing her the cutting board and kissing the top of her head. “What else can I do?”

  “Why don’t you get out a wok?” she say, pulling out a knife and starts to chop up the chicken.

  “What the hell is a wok?”

  She looks at me and rolls her eyes. “The big frying pan that looks like a bowl.”

  I pull out something resembling what she’s talking about. “This?”

  “Yes, perfect. Thanks. Oh, and guess what Ian said?” She laughs as she turns her attention back to chopping

  “I bet it’s good,” I say, laughing with her. “What can I do next?” I ask as I walk up behind her and close my arms around her waist.

  She tilts her head back, and I brush my lips against hers.

  “You can start the rice if you want.”

  “Okay,” I say, backing up to find a pot to start boiling water.

  “So, we were talking about senses, hearing specifically, and I was asking the kids what makes a sound. Ian shoots his hand up and starts waving it around frantically. It’s obvious he must have this brilliant idea, right?”

  She glances over at me where I’m filling the pot with water, and I nod.

  “So, I call on him, and he says, ‘Tick tock.’ I’m like, ‘Good, Ian. A clock makes the sound tick tock.’ Then, he starts shaking his head back and forth and goes, ‘No, Miss M. I mean”—and he starts singing—“tick tock, on the clock, but the party don’t stop.’ ” She starts laughing.

  My gut squeezes at seeing her so happy, especially since I’ve seen her so full
of anguish.

  “You know that Ke$ha song, right?”

  I chuckle as I walk over to the stove and set the pot down to start boiling the water. I lean down and kiss her cheek. “Yeah, I know which one you’re talking about, and that is pretty funny. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

  She grins and turns her head, so she can kiss me quickly on the lips. “Oh my gosh, I almost forgot the funniest thing,” she continues as she tosses the chicken she cut up into the woky-pan thing. Then, she takes the cutting board and knife to the sink. “Can you wash these for me real quick?”

  “Sure, baby,” I say, coming up behind her before she has a chance to turn back to the stove.

  I press myself against her ass with my hands on either side of her, and I duck my head to kiss along her neck and shoulder. She tilts her head to allow me better access.

  “Mmm, you’re distracting me,” she murmurs.

  I kiss up her neck until I reach her ear, and I flick my tongue out to lick just underneath her lobe. “Payback,” I whisper.

  She spins around, wraps her arms around my neck, and brings me down to kiss me hard. I fucking love how fast I turn her on.

  “Payback for what?” she whispers against my lips.

  I press my hard-on against her stomach. “You’re walking around while looking so fucking sexy that it’s distracting me,” I say against her lips. I kiss her again, slowly but deeply stroking her soft warm tongue with my own.

  She moans and squeezes her arms tighter around me, pressing her curvy little body against mine, and it’s a green flag at NASCAR. I pick her up, put her sexy-as-fuck behind on the edge of the sink, and shove my tongue into her mouth like my life depends on it. She claws at my shoulders and kisses me back just as hard. I rub my rock-solid length against her center, which is now at the perfect height, only making it more difficult not to strip her and fuck her now, right at this fucking second. I rub against her again, harder this time, and I deepen the kiss further than I thought possible. I reach down and inch my fingers up the inside of her thigh where her skirt has ridden up. My hand moves slowly, building the anticipation until I reach something I did not see coming.

  I break the kiss and glance down. “Jesus! Fuck, you’re wearing garters!” I pant while trailing my fingers along the edge of her stocking, not taking my eyes off her toned smooth thighs.

  I watch as goose bumps erupt along her skin, and she lets out a soft whimper. My eyes shoot to hers, and she bites down on her lower lip and hoods her eyes. I watch as a slow, seductive smile spreads across her lips.

  My cock jerks. I’m so fucking turned-on right now from seeing this woman turn on the seduction for me.

  Jesus Christ, I don’t think anything could be hotter.

  I keep my eyes on her face as it starts to soften and a flush spreads across her cheek bones. Her breathing get heavier as I inch my fingers up, edging closer, closer, almost there—

  “Oh fuck, the chicken!” she shouts, pushing me back, drawing me out of my stupor.

  Now, I’m starting to smell the burning food. She hops off the counter, rushes to the stove to remove the pan from the burner, and starts scraping the charred chicken off the pan in an attempt to salvage dinner.

  She glances over at me where I’m still recovering. She tries to look annoyed, but her breathing is still erratic, and her face is still flushed.

  “You ruined dinner, hornball.”

  I smirk and saunter over to where she’s standing. With her back to me, I wrap my arms around her and nuzzle my face into her neck, breathing her in. “If you’re looking for an apology, you’re not getting one,” I say. Then, I nibble her earlobe. “Let’s finish what we started and order take-out.”

  She groans and pushes her backside against me. “Okay,” she breathes. “I like that plan.”

  Sitting on my couch, my girl is stuffing her face with Chinese take-out while wearing one of my T-shirts and a pair of my boxers, looking very satisfied. I want to grunt in approval. Women shouldn’t bother getting done up. They should just get fucked good and hard because sex hair is the hottest shit ever.

  We’re watching a mutual favorite movie, Old School. Every time she laughs at something, I can’t help but glance over at her to stare at the long smooth column of her neck when she throws her head back. My chest squeezes when I see the big toothy smile spread across her face. I love seeing her so happy.

  My chest puffs out, knowing that I’ve played a big part in her finding that happiness. I’ve done all I can to be there for her to lean on and help her work through her emotions. I know that I’m not the only reason. I was more of a stepping-stone to help her help herself put the pieces back together. She’s strong and resilient, and all mine.

  Her head swings toward me, and she raises an eyebrow in question. “Why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?”

  I laugh as I lean dip my head and kiss her quickly, tasting the lo mein on her lips. “No, baby. I just like watching you. I love you.”

  Her eyes soften, and she leans toward me to give me a leisurely kiss. “I love you, too, Jed, more than words can say.”

  I plant another quick one on her lips before settling back to finish my food. “So, you never did get the chance to tell me about the funniest thing that happened today.”

  “Oh my gosh! It was so freaking funny. So, Amanda was doing her show-and-tell, and she brought in a picture of a litter of kittens from her cat. They were all really cute. Anyway, so then, a couple of kids are all like, ‘My cat had kittens, too,’ and ‘My dog had puppies.’ Then, Eli goes, ‘My dog had fleas!’ ”

  Then, she bursts out laughing, and I can’t help but join her.

  “I felt bad because I started laughing, and all the kids were confused because they had no idea what was so funny.” She finally composes herself and smiles over at me. “I fucking love teaching.”

  “Good, baby. I’m so happy that you love what you’re doing.” I smile at her and stuff a Chinese chicken finger in my mouth.

  “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you what else happened. It was awesome,” she says.

  I just nod because my mouth is full of deliciousness.

  “Remember I was telling you about that little girl, Avery, who was having trouble getting a handle on subtraction?”

  I nod, still chewing.

  She continues, “She got it today! Mrs. Ross, the teacher, asked me to sit one-on-one with her. So, Avery and I were sitting there, and I had some M&M’s in my bag. I drew a five on the little white board, and I had her get five M&M’s. Then, I drew the minus sign and asked her what it meant. She answered, ‘Take away, right, Miss M.?’ I nodded as I wrote down a three and asked her to read the math sentence. She did right away, which was huge because she hadn’t been able to do that before. So then, I asked her to do what the sentence said, and she got it! She was so proud of herself, and she beamed up at me. Words can’t begin to describe how awesome it is when a kid finally gets something.” She grins. “Honestly, I didn’t really do anything different, but I think it was the one-on-one situation that helped her concentrate. I was just incredibly happy when she figured it out.” She lets out a contented sigh. “I can’t wait to start teaching, Jed. It’s going to be the best ever.”

  “I’m happy for you, Anna. You deserve it.” I smile at her. “How long are you in this classroom before you go to the second placement?”

  “I’ll be with kindergarten until the end of March, and then I switch to a second grade classroom,” she answers. “Ugh, I’m stuffed.” She sets the remainder of her food down.

  “Mmm,” I say, eyeing her sexy disheveled form. I place my food on the coffee table before scooting closer to her. “You ready for dessert?” I say while ducking my head to kiss along her collarbone.

  She moans lightly, “You’re insatiable.”

  I lick up her neck before stopping just below her ear. “Yeah, but you love it, and you love me, too.”

  “Mmm,” she hums. “That I do, Jed. That I do.”


  February 4th

  So, the last couple of sessions Dr. Jenson and I have been discussing the college rape and trying to apply the same logic that we did to my biological father—that it’s not me, it’s him. She asked me why I thought it was my fault, and I said if I hadn’t gone to the party, it wouldn’t have happened. She argued that a lot of people go to parties, and the overwhelming majority don’t get raped. She had a good point.

  It’s fairly mind-boggling how quickly my mind shifted. I went from thinking that it was my fault and that I deserved it to feeling an intense anger. I mean, seriously, who fucking does that to someone? That’s so fucking wrong and disgusting. It’s not like he even wanted the power or something because I was pretty much passed out the whole time. Who wants to fuck someone who’s passed out besides a necrophiliac or someone with a narcolepsy fetish? It’s wrong, just wrong. That asshole, whoever he is, is a vile piece of shit, and I hate him for doing that to me.

  The other thing we talked about that was both terrifying and wonderful was opening up to someone else. She suggested it might be helpful if I had another person to talk to about my past, a close friend perhaps. My mind shot to Shannon, and then my stomach dropped at the idea of spewing everything out to her, but I’m determined to take on Dr. Jenson’s advice.

  Things have really been working out well since I started this journey. Dr. Jenson’s advice, my determination, and having Jed to lean on have been priceless, and even though the thought of telling everything to yet another person when I spent so long burying them is scary, I know having Shannon at my back through this time will be invaluable.