Saving Grace: A bad-boy virgin romance

by Savannah Skye

  “He made me come,” I blurt out, my cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. “With his hand…” Her eyes zone in on me, going wild and wide. “Over my jeans.”

  She exhales sharply and waves one hand in the air. “Wowwww…That man must have hands like Superman.”

  “Pretty darn close.”

  She forces her eyes closed, a dreamy smile passes over her lips. “That’s so nice. Maybe I can have a go.” Her eyes peel open slowly. “I mean, when you’re done with him, when you toss your memories of him into a dumpster fire and move on to the next man. Then I’ll swoop in and nurse his broken heart in the only way I know how.”

  “Why are we friends?” I question lowly, shaking my head. “I really don’t understand why I’m friends with you sometimes.”

  She wags a finger in my face. “You’re friends with me because I’m a damn good friend. I gave you my purple-dicked dinosaur toy and I waited for that fucking expensive piece of goodness for well over three weeks, including the time it took to pass through the oversensitive customs system.” She shrugs. “And the fact of the matter is that every angel needs a devil on her shoulder.”

  “You’ve certainly filled that role to perfection.” I push the plate forward and out of my way.

  “Don’t get freaked out,” she cautions me as she stabs her stack of pancakes with the fork, “but this is totally going into my spank bank.”

  “I’m really not hungry.” I cross my arms over each other in defiant irritation at her torment.

  “Fine,” she relents, while continuing to chew with her mouth open. “What’d you find out while stalking him?”

  “Zilch.”

  “Zero?”

  “Nada.” I nod. “He caught me.”

  Willow throws her hand over her mouth in a failed effort to keep the food inside her mouth as she launches into a tirade of chuckles. Her cheeks flush red and I think she’s about to choke.

  Time to find a new best friend.

  “Girl,” she tries to pull herself together, swallows what’s left in her mouth. “I don’t even recognize who you are anymore.” She clears her throat. “What happened when he caught you?”

  I shrug and look away. “He demanded to know why I was following him.”

  “Did you tell him the truth?” Her eyebrows furrow as she waits impatiently for a response.

  “Yeah.” I sigh, deciding to play with her a little bit. “I told him that I was following him for ten whole blocks because I’ve been dying to know if he’s actually Batman at night and, oh yeah, that I’d also like to take a ride on his Batarang, if you know what I mean.”

  “You did not!”

  “Of course I didn’t, dummy. I’m being sarcastic.” I shrug as I push my seat backwards and climb to my feet. “All I know is that he’s definitely hiding something and it’s driving me insane trying to figure out what.” I comb my hand through my hair and think back to that night, try to remember all the little details. “He was spying on these two men in the back corner.”

  Willow exhales a breath of hot air, shakes her head slightly. “He’s in the mob,” she says matter-of-factly, as if that’s the only option. “You’ve got to get on that dick, get off a few times, and then get the hell out before you’re dragged into some Goodfella’s level shit.”

  “I’m not going to be dragged into anything,” I scoff. “I’m being careful.”

  She rolls her eyes and rises to stand, holding her palms for leverage as she leans across the table. “Were you being careful when you were being finger-blasted in a campus classroom?”

  “There was no blasting,” I whisper furiously, but decide instead to choose my battles. “Maybe he was just spying on those men because he liked their jeans and he was trying to get a better view of the label so he could buy a pair of his own or something.”

  “So, you’re saying Professor Jack Ridley is gay?”

  “No,” I scoff. “I’m just saying, it could be something totally innocuous and stupid.” But even as I say the words, a sensation in my gut tells me it’s wrong. “I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on. And he’s obviously not gay.”

  “Come with me, young Padawan.” She takes my hand and guides me to the couch where we sit opposite each other. “Maybe it doesn’t matter why he was spying on those two men. Maybe it doesn’t matter what secrets he’s hiding. It’s not like you’re trying to marry the guy.”

  I purse my lips, contemplating. On some level, she’s right. Why am I so hell-bent on knowing everything? Shouldn’t I just be content to let this play out and then finally end?

  But that’s for people who can leave a letter sitting on a table, unopened. A person who could get a rose from a secret admirer and just appreciate it rather than calling the flower shop and trying to figure out who sent it.

  In a word?

  Someone who isn’t me.

  “I’m just going to come out and ask him.”

  “If you’re going to do that, then just wait a little longer. Wait until you’ve gotten a little… closer.”

  “Right.” I nod in agreement. “I don’t want to scare him away by being too nosey.” I make a silent vow to myself to try and not press him for answers in the meantime, fully knowing that it’s going to be a near-impossible task. I wonder what’s going to happen in the meantime though.

  It’s a Friday and I’m not going to see him until Monday, unless of course I step back into the role of James Bond and hunt him down. But I figure one episode of stalking is more than enough for the time being. I could maybe text him? After all, his number is on the syllabus and he instructed us not to hesitate contacting him if we ever needed anything. But would that make me too needy?

  I shake my head, there’s no way I can go the entire weekend without knowing what he’s thinking. I jump from the couch and rush into my bedroom.

  “Where the hell are you going?” Willow questions loudly as I rip my phone off my nightstand.

  I emerge from the bedroom with a victorious smile hitched across my lips. “I’m going to text him.”

  “Naughty girl.” She claps her hands together and cuddles her body next to mine on the couch. She makes sure to get a good peek at my screen with her head rested over my shoulder.

  I look down at the screen lost for words. “What should I text him?”

  She shrugs. “You could start by saying Hey.”

  “That’s easy enough.” I type in the short message on the phone, but delete it immediately. “That’s too casual. It’s too—”

  “You’re right, that’s dumb.” She rips the phone out of my hand and begins typing a message with a satisfied grin on her face. When she passes the phone back to me, I narrow my eyes at her. “What?”

  “I’m not saying I got a message from this number and I’m just wondering who it is.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s obviously going to know he didn’t text me.”

  “Good point.” She rips the phone back out of my hand, but pauses this time. I can see her eyes doing acrobatics as the gears in her mind turn. She looks to me with a frown. “This is more difficult than I thought it would be. I usually just send a selfie of my snatch and go from there.”

  I glare at her, but a chuckle soon cracks from my lips. “You’re not joking, are you?”

  “How about, Hello from the other side?”

  I rip the phone back out of her hands and nudge her with my elbow. “No, I’m not sending him Adele lyrics.” I type onto the phone; Hey, it’s Grace. I just wanted to apologize about the other night.”

  Willow’s head drops over my shoulder before passing me a disapproving glare. “Never apologize to a man. Ever. It makes you look weak. Now delete that sorry excuse for a text.”

  “Fine,” I huff and do as commanded. I continue to stare down at the empty screen, close to giving up and deciding that any answers are going to have to wait until Monday. I’ll either confront him after class or slither my way back into his office.

  Will
ow pries the phone from my loose fingers and begins humming a nonchalant tune under her breath. I look over to the screen to see; I’ve been a very bad girl and I need to be taught a lesson. I mean, academically, of course.

  “Could you stop being stupid?” I question, but without the requisite energy to steal my phone back from her.

  She deletes the text and writes another; What would you say if I started to call you, Daddy?

  That one forces me to chuckle lightly. She looks to me with an approving, sinister smile before constructing a new text; My plumber is out of town and I need my pipes cleaned.

  “Stop it,” I demand with a gentle laugh as I recover the phone from her. “How about, Will you be my Jack Dawson to my Rose Dewitt? Will you take my virginity in the back of a fancy car? Fog up my windows as you come deep inside my wet…” I can barely type the word, never mind say it.

  Willow snickers as she passes me a high five. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  I turn back to the screen and continue to craft my text with increasingly vulgar language. I snort as I finish off the text with one final, ridiculous line. At this point, both Willow and I are in complete hysterics, hardly able to breathe.

  I drop my phone into my lap as I throw my hands over my face, trying to hold back the nervous laughter that’s coming from the back of my throat. My cheeks are stained with tears.

  Finally, I come down, ready to stop screwing around and to delete the text. Starting over with something a little more appropriate, I scoop the phone back up into my hands to see with rising panic.

  MESSAGE SENT:

  Will you be my Jack Dawson to my Rose Dewitt? Will you take my virginity in the back of a fancy car? Fog up my windows as you come deep inside my wet pussy? I want to feel your sweaty body pressed against mine, slap your ass and pull you tighter against me as I come around your sweet, hard cock…

  I throw up in my mouth. Literally. Nerves electrocute every square inch of my body.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, barely able to force the words from my throat, barely able to come to grips with what I’ve done as my palms go slick with sweat.

  “What?” Willow questions, still recovering from the fit of laughter that had overcome the both of us just prior. She peers over my shoulder and launches into another tirade of laughter. “Oh my God!”

  I shove her hard, forcing an oomph from her throat, as I try to think straight. Then, I’m searching the Internet on how to rescind a text that’s already been sent, but nothing that comes up on the first page seems to be of any use.

  “Grace, it’s no use,” Willow is murmuring, but fuck that. This cannot be happening.

  I click on the number at the top listed under sponsored results and ring up Geek Squad immediately.

  I jump from the couch when they answer. “Yes, I have an emergency.”

  “You’ll need to hang up the phone and call 911, ma’am,” a woman on the other end chides me.

  “Not that kind of emergency,” I snap. “I sent a text and need to unsend it immediately.”

  “Oh, yeah…no. I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  “It has to be possible,” I sputter, starting to wonder if I was going to pass out. “I sent something bad.”

  “The only way you’re going to be able to stop that message from being received is if you intercept it on the other person’s phone.”

  Shit.

  Realizing I’m wasting valuable daylight, I hang up on the kind soul on the other end of the phone and rush into my bedroom to grab my car keys. When I emerge back into the living room, Willow is on her feet tossing me the side eye.

  “Where the hell are you going?”

  “I’m going to find Jack, steal his phone and break it in half.”

  “You can’t be serious.” She frowns and reaches for my hand to try and calm me, but nothing outside of three bottles of Xanax is going to do the trick, that or destroying the evidence.

  “If he reads that message, it’s over. Either he’ll never talk to me again, or I’ll die from embarrassment.”

  “Maybe he changed his number since the beginning of the semester. Maybe he’ll never even receive it.” She shrugs, the epitome of calm, which is understandable since she’s not the one facing an early grave. “Just chill out and think about this logically.”

  “This is your fault.” I throw a pointed finger in her face and march towards her until she collapses backwards on the couch. “You couldn’t just leave well enough alone.”

  “We cannot allow ourselves to turn on each other because of a dick,” she suggests, staring wide-eyed up at me with just the slightest hint of pity in her eyes.

  “My life is over,” I say somberly, and drop onto the couch beside Willow. I’m defeated and preparing myself to meet my maker, questioning all the while if this will be held against me once I step foot at the pearly gates.

  My phone vibrates in my hand, causing my stomach to sink all the way to my feet as I feel my insides turning. I glance down at the phone to read the incoming message.

  UNKNOWN NUMBER: I don’t have an antique car, but I know where to find one. But how about a truck? Would that do the trick? I could fuck you underneath the stars in a cornfield somewhere.

  “Oh my God,” I stammer, choking on my own words.

  “What?” Willow shrieks and rips the phone out of my hand while I stare blankly ahead. “Ha! Well, that went swimmingly.”

  “What do I say?” I cock my head to her, terrified of what comes next but equally anticipating the very same thing. “I can’t believe he replied.”

  She turns to me with a wicked grin.

  “He’s so into you,” she shrieks and raises her hand to offer me a fist bump, We both jump to our feet, dancing around the coffee table with renewed vigor.

  “I’m getting laid,” I sing out loud while throwing my hands in the air for emphasis.

  “Grace’s cherry is getting popped,” Willow sings while she dances in a circle behind me. “My little girl is growing up.”

  “Crap,” I grunt out, coming down from the euphoric high as I once again collapse onto the couch. “What do I say back?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugs, her tongue passing over her lips as the gears in her mind begin to turn. “Say something sexy, but keep it mysterious. Something like, You know, even Rose was taken on a date first before she gave it all up.”

  “Can I just use that?”

  “Sure.” She joins me by my side, peering her head over my shoulder as I write out the text exactly as she had said it.

  The both of us wait patiently for him to text back as little bubbles indicating he’s typing run along the bottom of the screen.

  UNKNOWN NUMBER: Now you’re just teasing me. Do you want to be a cock tease, Grace?

  I begin to type back, I like to tease and be teased, but Willow shakes her head disapprovingly before correcting me, “No, you need something more vivid. Remember what I said about men being visual creatures? Just like that first message that you accidentally sent, you need to keep it visual.

  “Uh-huh.” I nod, but still drawing a blank.

  Willow once again takes the phone from my hands, but does so gently. “Teasing you would be saying that I’m touching myself right now thinking about you,” she says out loud as she types up the message and hits send.

  I protest and rip the phone back from her hand.

  UNKNOWN NUMBER: Why don’t we discuss this in person? Meet me at the Leslie Hotel at 8:30?

  A smile ripples across my lips, somehow I’ve succeeded at my goal even after a few embarrassing missteps. Being caught stalking him the other night hasn’t seemed to diverge him too much from wanting to meet, and he obviously doesn’t think I’m a complete creep, so I’d say this is a winning scenario.

  “I have a date,” I say lowly, turning to Willow. “I have a date.”

  “You have a fucking date!” Willow squeals, almost more excited than I am. “And I have a feeling this is it, this is the night you’re going to ri
de that stallion into the night sky.”

  “I’m terrified,” I say behind gritted teeth. “I’m going to screw this up.”

  She smacks me across the cheek, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to make me want to slap her back.

  “Jesus, Will, what the hell?” I demand, holding a hand to my smarting cheek.

  “You need to get a damn grip on yourself. First things first, put on your sexiest pumps because we need to take you lingerie shopping.”

  “What’s wrong with my underwear?”

  “That’s a stupid question and the fact that you haven’t considered how terrible of an idea it is to show up to a date wearing anything other than a thong tells me that you might not be ready for this after all.” She reaches for my hand and drags me to my feet. “Now hurry up because we don’t have all day.”

  I am in the presence of the master. There’s no reason to ignore the gifts the gods have bestowed upon me, so I nod and rush into my bedroom. Five minutes later, I’m dressed to go. My eyes drift to the nightstand where my purple dildo is stored. As soon as we get back from the mall, I need to practice with that thing because I cannot afford to screw up this date tonight.

  I pull open the drawer and take a quick peek. The anticipation for tonight might just kill me before I’ve even had the chance to step into The Leslie Hotel.

  10

  Jack

  I palm a glass of scotch on the rocks as I wait for her.

  The lights are a dim yellow, casting small pools of light down onto the bar while a slight draft can be felt every time the front door opens and closes, gently without so much as a sound.

  Jazz music hums from the speakers above, music that would calm most but simply serves to annoy me. I check my watch and it’s a quarter after eight. I pencil in a mental note that not everyone runs on Jack Ridley time—which is always fifteen to thirty minutes early.