Teach Me Dirty

by Jade West

  “Come through,” he said, and he was at the sofa — an old battered leather thing that had seen better days — making me a space amongst a load of art magazines. I sat down and pulled my legs up under me, and Mr Roberts fetched a soft woollen throw from a stool in the corner and draped it over my legs. “The fire will start kicking out some heat soon.”

  “Thank you, I’m a bit warmer now.”

  He sat on the arm at the opposite end, and watched the flames in the grate as they danced and crackled and sprang into life. “I wanted the best for you, Helen. That’s all I wanted.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

  “This whole thing… it was wrong. I knew it was wrong. I thought if I could just back away, just give you enough space…” He sighed. “It didn’t really go to plan, though, did it?”

  “I… I just…” I slumped down in my seat. “I just wanted it so bad. It broke my heart.”

  “Seeing you with Harry Sawbridge…” His brows were heavy, concentrated. “Helen, you’re better than that.”

  “I didn’t feel it.” My heart hurt. “I don’t feel it. I feel like nothing. I just wanted it done.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true. I feel like nothing. Just a stupid little girl. A weirdo. A stupid virgin.”

  “Shh,” he said. “Don’t.”

  “Why not? It’s the truth.”

  He moved so slowly. Dropping to the floor and closing the distance on his knees, and he was there, in front of me, warm hands on my knees through the throw. “That isn’t the truth.”

  “You would say that. You have to say that. You’re my teacher.”

  “I’m hardly acting like it.”

  “You are.” And I was sad again. “You are acting like it.”

  “I’ve been trying.”

  I managed a small smile. “You’re not doing so bad.”

  “That’s debatable.”

  “You didn’t have to pick me up,” I said. “You should have left me there.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I should have. I’m too drunk to drive.”

  “You don’t seem it.”

  “That doesn’t matter. I’m still too drunk to drive.” His eyes were on mine, and they burned. “Anna was killed by a drunk driver. He was three times the limit, lost control on a bend and she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just one split second of bad timing. If he hadn’t been drinking, if his reactions had been better…” He looked away. “I don’t drink and drive, Helen. I never drink and drive.”

  My soul shrivelled. “And I made you? I made you do it, didn’t I? Oh my God …”

  “You didn’t make me. Your irresponsible choices made me. Please don’t make a habit of it.”

  I was crying again, and it was stupid but I couldn’t stop. “I’m so sorry…”

  “Don’t be sorry, Helen, just learn from it.” He squeezed my knee through the throw. “You didn’t know.”

  “But she died… because of a drunk… and I made you… I made you drive…”

  “Yes, she did. But I drove slowly, and carefully, and we were lucky. I weighed up the options and took a calculated risk.”

  I nodded, and I was sniffly.

  “Sometimes that’s all we can do, Helen. Weigh up our options and take a calculated risk. Don’t you think?”

  I shrugged like a stupid kid. “I guess.”

  “You guess?” He was smiling, a sad smile, a resigned smile as though he’d lived a thousand years. Maybe that’s what I did to him. Maybe being around someone as young and as stupid as me made him feel old. “I was hoping for a little more than I guess, since I’m about to take another one.”

  Something fluttered, in my belly, something small and nice. “Another one?”

  “Another calculated risk.” He moved, placing a hand beside me on the sofa, and my body moved for his, clearing a space as he filled it. He reached out a hand for me, and I shivered as his thumb brushed my lip. He trailed his fingers down my neck, brushing my hair to the side. “So help me, God,” he mumbled, and I don’t think it was for me.

  His mouth pressed to mine, and his arms pulled me close, and it was really real. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and I kissed him back. I kissed him back as my heart stuttered and my soul came alive again. His tongue was needy, and his breath was ragged, and he was alive, too. I could feel him straining to keep the lid on a boiling pot, but it was bubbling and clattering and slipping. It was already toppling, and the pot boiled over.

  I dared to reach for his tie. Dared to loosen it, and he didn’t fight me.

  He slipped his jacket from my shoulders, and my skin wasn’t cold anymore. His fingers tickled, dancing over my skin, and he sucked at my bottom lip, breathed into my mouth, and I wanted him, I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.

  He broke away and I moaned. “Please, no,” I said. “Please don’t stop.”

  I fumbled at his buttons, desperate to see him, but he stilled my fingers, took my hands in his. My stomach lurched until I realised he was smiling.

  “Relax,” he said. He kissed my knuckles and guided my hand away. “Stand up,” he said. “Please. Stand for me. I want to see you in your gown.” I got to my feet and he took the throw from me, and I was standing for him, just me, in my pretty dress, barefoot and nervous as he looked me up and down. “Turn around.”

  I turned slowly, taking slow breaths, keeping my eyes on him over my shoulder until he moved forwards. His hands were warm against my back, tracing a path up my spine as he rose to his feet. He wrapped his arm around my waist, pinning my back to his chest, and he brushed my hair to the side, sweeping it clear of my shoulders. And then there was his mouth, his lips… his warm breath on my ear as my skin came alive. I couldn’t stop moaning as he kissed me there, my neck was so tender. Everything tickled and fluttered, and the heat of him was so beautiful, so right. He wrapped my hair around his fingers, and angled me where he wanted me, exploring my skin until I wriggled against him. He nipped at my shoulder, nipped all the way up my throat, and I could feel him smiling, smiling before his tongue found its way in my ear.

  “Oh…” I hissed. “Oh, God…”

  “Relax,” he breathed, and there was more, his fingers slipping around to cup my breasts, squeezing me through the fabric, and I was so glad Lizzie had convinced me not to wear a bra.

  He kissed me forever. He kissed me until my legs were shaking and it wasn’t from the cold, until my stomach was knotted and I could feel my pulse between my thighs. He kissed me until I was moaning for more, until I was liquid nothingness and the fire was burning me up.

  He kissed me like he loved me.

  He kissed me like I was everything.

  And then he stopped.

  And I stumbled, I stumbled and dithered and laughed as he pulled the fabric of my dress up over my head. He turned me to face him, and he looked at me, he looked at all of me.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He ran his thumbs across my nipples and the sparks that flew through me were amazing. “I hope you believe me.” His palms slid down my waist, fingers hooking inside my knickers. “You’re a beautiful, talented, vivacious young woman, Helen. More beautiful than ever because you have no idea how beautiful you really are.”

  I gasped as he peeled the fabric away, and I was wet, my thighs were slippery. I stepped out of my knickers, and I was naked. It felt like a dream. A really good dream.

  “I’m going to take you upstairs.”

  He kissed my mouth.

  “I’m going to take you to my bed.”

  He kissed my neck.

  “And I’m going to make you mine.”

  My tummy fluttered and my whole body ached for him, wanted him.

  He led me by the hand, squeezing so tightly as he guided me back through the dining room and up a staircase to the floor above. He didn’t flick the lights on until we were in his bedroom, and it was warm up there. Warm and cosy, with a whole other load of artistic chaos around us. Hi
s bed was big and soft and dressed in white, plainer than the rest of the room, but perfect for him. Perfect for us.

  He pushed me down until I was sitting on the edge, and then lifted my knees up onto his shoulders. I tipped back naturally, sinking into the bed, and his lips grazed my thigh. He nipped and sucked and teased me, his breath so warm as he meandered his way to my pussy. I was desperate for him, wriggling and moaning and squirming and aching. A delirious mess of hormones and want.

  I jumped a mile as his tongue found my clit. And it was heaven. Pure heaven.

  He spread me open and licked me there, and he sucked at delicate places, and his breath was deliciously hot. When he slipped a finger inside me I was ready, but it still made me suck in my breath. He worked it in and out, sucking at my clit as he pushed in another. And I felt full, and tight, and tender. He moved them in and out of me so slowly, sucking on me until I couldn’t take anymore. Until my fingers were in his hair and I was squirming underneath him.

  I couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t stop staring down at the beautiful sight of him between my legs.

  “Oh, God…” I hissed. “That feels… that feels so nice…”

  I gripped the sheets as I came, and it didn’t feel like it did when I did it to myself. It was more tickly, hotter, more intense, and after I felt floaty and soft, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I caught my breath as he kissed his way up my body, and everything was ticklish. I laughed as he kissed my tummy, and I felt him smile against my skin.

  He lay on the bed and pulled me up towards him, and his fingers slipped back between my legs, teasing my clit as I groaned.

  “I want you so much…” I said. “Please…”

  I pulled his tie from his neck and cast it aside, and fumbled with his shirt buttons until I reached his skin. I couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t stop watching my fingers touching him. “This is really real…”

  He smiled. “This is really real.” He shrugged his shirt off. “And not nearly so impressive as your sketches.”

  But he was better. He was so much better than my sketches.

  His chest was lean, and dusted with a smattering of dark hair. His nipples were darker than I imagined, and harder under my fingertips. His stomach was toned but soft to the touch, and he was warm. He was so warm.

  “You’re far better than any sketch I’ve ever done.”

  It amused him, I could tell, his eyes twinkled in the lamplight. “The lady is easily pleased, it seems.”

  I traced my fingers down his arms, and they were so firm. His hair felt nice to the touch, fine and soft. “No,” I said. “You’re just perfect. Everything I ever wanted.”

  “Save that judgement until after.” He kissed my lips and I opened my mouth for him, and his tongue hunted mine, chased me down as his body positioned itself over mine. He unbuckled his belt, and wriggled from his trousers, and I felt him against me, the weight of his erection on my thigh.

  And it felt big.

  Big enough to make me nervous.

  I was nervous.

  “You’re ready?”

  I nodded. “Please.”

  “My pleasure.” His thighs nudged mine open, and I took a breath. “I’ll take it slow.”

  I felt him press against me, felt him rub himself back and forth, teasing and pushing. It hurt for a moment, and I felt myself open up, just a little bit.

  His breath was fast in my ear. “That’s it, Helen, that’s good. Nice and easy.”

  He moved his hips and pushed against me again, and it hurt again. He stopped. Let me clench and wriggle around him.

  “Are you ok?”

  I nodded. “I’m good… don’t stop…”

  His hips circled, tiny motions back and forth, so gently, opening me up and pushing deeper, and stopping again when I flinched.

  And then something came over me, something needy and primal. I reached for him, pulling him closer, wanting him inside me.

  “Take me,” I breathed. “Please, take me…”

  He kissed me on the lips and pushed.

  He pushed harder, and it hurt, and if the hurt had been a sound it would be high-pitched and sharp, a little sharp nick of pain. “Ow…”

  “Nearly…”

  He thrust and it hurt again, hurt deeper, but I wanted it so much. “Yes…”

  “Good girl…” One final push and I felt the warmth of his belly against mine, and I was full of him, I could feel everything, clenching around him as he kissed my forehead. And it felt amazing, it felt like a beautiful dream. I felt like he was all the way in me, everywhere. “Fuck,” he said. “You feel so good.”

  He moved his hips and it was tender inside, tender enough that I held my breath, but I was wet, I could hear it. I heard the noises as he slid in and out of me.

  I wrapped my legs around him, and made myself move, made myself move how my body thought it should move, and it was sore, and weird, and deep, and really intense, but I was flying high, grinning.

  “Is this everything you hoped for?” He kissed my forehead and sank into me and I groaned.

  “More… it’s more…” I looked up at him, and his eyes were burning.

  “Tell me if it gets too much.”

  I nodded, and gasped as he thrust in harder, but it wasn’t painful like it had been, just… deep…

  A rhythm. A beautiful slow rhythm that was taking me away. He moved and I moved with him, and I felt him, felt everything. Felt his breath on my lips and his eyes on mine, and the strain in his legs as he pushed in and out of me. I felt so close to him, closer than I’ve ever felt to anyone, and he kissed me like I was beautiful, like I was a woman, a real woman, like he wanted me more than anyone else in the universe.

  He tilted his hips and it changed everything. I sucked in my breath and felt myself flutter inside, and it hurt a good hurt until it didn’t hurt at all. And he grunted, and pushed hard, and the rhythm got faster. And I heard his skin, slapping mine, and I couldn’t stop squirming.

  “I’m going to come, is that ok?” he whispered.

  And I nodded, I nodded into his neck and his body shuddered and jolted and slapped against mine. He hissed out his breath and pushed all the way in and I could feel his heartbeat against my chest and it was fast. And I felt him, I felt his excitement, I felt the way he needed me, the way he lost control, the way he wanted this.

  I loved it when he came.

  I’d never loved anything as much as the feeling when he came inside me.

  His breath was heavy and his skin was hot and the weight of him pinned me to the bed. And he was still inside me. I could still feel him inside me. And I was throbbing around him, and he was throbbing too.

  He kissed my lips and my cheeks and my eyes.

  He kissed all of me.

  And I never wanted him to stop.

  Not ever.

  Not until the end of time.

  ***

  Mark

  Such an alien sense of euphoria, the feeling of closeness with another human body, the release and the endorphins and the smell of sex on the air. I’d missed that.

  I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed that until Helen Palmer’s beautiful body was underneath mine.

  And she really was beautiful. It wasn’t just the beauty of her flesh, of her sweet little nipples and soft breasts, of the twinkle in her eyes and the halo of silky mahogany hair around her head,

  Helen’s beauty was so much deeper. She had a beautiful soul, a beautiful, pure spirit. She was exquisitely sensitive, an innocent, a delicate flower blossoming.

  I was transfixed by her.

  I was consumed by her.

  And I was perplexed by how a lust so forbidden could feel so divine.

  I pulled out slowly, carefully, and inched my body from hers, keeping an arm across her stomach as I lay at her side. She stared at the ceiling, eyes glazed.

  Her fingers found me. They stroked my arm, back and forth, absentmindedly but in perfect rhythm.

  “What are you thinking?�
�� I asked.

  She tipped her head towards mine, and she was smiling. “I’m just… happy…”

  I pressed my lips to her forehead.

  “…I can’t believe this is really real. It really is. It’s real. I wanted this for so long.” Her smile grew wider. “It’s like a dream. A perfect dream. The best dream ever.”

  “It’s not a dream, Helen.”

  “I can still feel you. I can feel where you’ve been. I feel… different.”

  “Does it hurt? Are you sore?”

  She shook her head. “No. Just… different.” She slipped her fingers between her legs, then sat up with a jolt. I sat up with her, following her gaze as she shifted on the bedcovers. I watched her cheeks darken as she uncovered a pink-red stain on the bedding. “Oh no, I’ve made a mess.”

  “It’s not a mess,” I said.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  I leaned in to kiss her shoulder. “Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  Her smile came back, and there was a girlishness to it. “I did it. We did it.” She didn’t take her eyes from the bedding. “I’m not a virgin anymore.”

  “You’re definitely not a virgin anymore, Helen.”

  “This is us.” She traced the outline of the stain, ran a finger around its dark edges as it bled further into the fabric, and it was still wet. Wet with her, wet with me. Glossy from the part of me I’d left within her. Her eyes flicked to mine and they were full of nerves. “Was it ok for you? Was I…ok?”

  “You were beautiful.” I slid my fingers over hers. “You were so much more than ok.”

  “I was?”

  I pulled her close, until her chest was tight against mine and her arms folded around my neck. “You were so good, Helen.” I smoothed her hair. “You were perfect.”

  She breathed against my neck. “I feel like I’ll burst, like my heart can’t contain these feelings.” She squeezed me hard. “I’m so happy…”

  “And tired,” I said. “You must be tired.”

  “A little.” I felt her eyelashes flutter against my skin. “Can I… stay? With you?” Her breath was soft. “In here?”