Pupil: Inspired By a True Story

by Zoey Long

  I grab Derrick’s wrist and lead him out of the gallery. He doesn’t resist me. My eyes begin tearing up, and a lump has risen in my throat, and I’ll be damned if Noel or any of these other assholes see me cry. They don’t get to see that. No. I’m walking at a brisk pace, pulling Derrick through the front hall of the building. My blush-colored heels click violently on the marble floor of the foyer as we head out to the street. I keep walking.

  Hot tears start falling down my cheeks, but my muscles are still filled with adrenaline. I’m shaking all over with anger and upset. We’re halfway down the block when he pulls me back, stopping me.

  “Madison, stop,” he says. “Please stop for a minute.”

  I whip around.

  “What? What the fuck? Fuck this. Fuck all of them,” I scream, letting go of his wrist. I put my hands through my hair, exasperated and sweating.

  “I know, baby. I know.”

  “No. What are we going to do now? And what the hell was with that woman, knowing about us? How many people has Noel told? This girl Katrina he was with, her mother knows? Jesus. It’s so much worse than I thought. So much worse. So much.”

  I put my head in my hands.

  Derrick folds his arms and begins to answer me calmly.

  “Listen to me right now. That asshole is making it his personal mission to ruin our lives and the worst thing we can do is react.”

  “React!” I scream at him, looking up again.

  People are passing by us, weaving around us to get on their way. We’re far enough away from the event that I don’t think anyone from school can see us, but I’m still screaming at him in the middle of a busy New York City sidewalk. I try to collect myself.

  “How can I not react? That event was supposed to be about my work. About student work and fundraising and whatever. People are supposed to be inspired, sip their wine and say, ‘Oh, aren’t these young people so talented and promising!’ My sex life isn’t supposed to be the center of attention! So I can be humiliated in front of my mother, in front of the whole visual arts department and all of their parents! Right in front of one of my paintings, no less. Then to have some dickhead say sexually explicit shit to me in the middle of the event over his glass of shitty box wine with fucking Beethoven playing in the background!”

  Derrick bites back a laugh.

  “You’re right. All of that is fucked up and unfair and I’m sorry,” he says.

  He moves in to hug me. I step back and put up my hands to block an embrace.

  “No, Derrick. If you hug me I’ll lose it right now. I can’t be hysterical and crying in your arms two blocks from the venue.”

  He nods.

  “Okay, how about this. Guess what? You are talented and promising,” he says.

  “What? No. You’re not seriously going to talk about my art right now.”

  My hands are shaking. I can feel myself still pumped up on adrenaline.

  “Why the hell not now? When, then? Please, tell me, when can I talk about your art? When is it okay? It’s fine if you just want to produce and produce and never show it to anyone, but I saw how your eyes lit up when you saw your name on the wall.”

  My cheeks are hot as he continues.

  “You are really talented, Madison. Fuck what just happened in there. Who cares about them? You only had one piece in that show, and I have seen that you have dozens more, just as good as that one if not better. Look, the truth is, I love you, you’re brilliant, and I think you should have your own show. There. I said it. Deal with it. And that’s all I am going to say about that right now.”

  Derrick steps into the street and hails a cab.

  “Now, will you please take my hand so we can get the fuck out of here?”

  I’m dumbstruck by his words and completely emotionally drained. My hands fall limp at my sides. I’m not sure what to say to that.

  “Fuck. Yes. Fine,” I answer finally.

  Derrick opens the door to the cab for me. I take his hand and get into the backseat. Once we’ve both settled, I take his hand and intertwine it with my own. Our upper arms are pressed together and to my surprise, I have no desire to let his hand go all the way back to the apartment.

  Chapter 9: Derrick

  I pay the driver and step out onto the curb in front of my dad’s building. Madison follows me, the skirt of her dress catching a strong wind. It almost blows up around her waist.

  “Whoa!” she says, trying to hold it down.

  “Almost gave the whole Upper East Side a free show there, love,” I tease.

  “Not to mention the driver.”

  She smooths the front of her dress down and sticks her tongue out at me. Her heels click behind me as our doorman opens the entrance for us.

  “Good evening, sir. Hello, miss.”

  He tips his hat in our direction, smiling as we pass. I wonder how many suits he owns.

  I press the button to get on the elevator. The doors are mirrored. Seeing us together, coming home from this art benefit, I think we look like a beautiful couple. Like my arm should be around her. Like she should be mine. I think Madison sees it too because she grabs my hand. The yellow light above the elevator door lights up, and I let her get on before me.

  “Too bad we never did it in here,” I tease her once the doors close.

  “You’re insane.” She stretches her arm forward to press the penthouse button. There are many floors from the lobby to our home.

  “See, there’s even a little seat,” I continue, pointing to the ridiculous upholstered stool in the corner of the elevator, lined with little brass studs. “I could just…sit in this seat and pull you on top of me,” I whisper in her ear.

  I cup her ass with my palms. She doesn’t resist.

  “Or I could bend over and brace myself on the stool,” she returns.

  “Mm, that sounds good,” I say.

  The elevator is climbing higher and higher. I can see Madison watching the buttons light up, wondering if we’ll stop before we reach our floor.

  “But too bad for you, sweet brother, this elevator has cameras.”

  She steps out of my grasp, points to the camera in the corner of the ceiling. The elevator stops on the penthouse floor, the doors open, and Madison leaves me in a cloud of her perfume as she exits the car. I sigh audibly, almost groan, watching her ass in front of me. God, I want her.

  I follow her. The penthouse floor is completely silent, lit with wall sconces that never seem to go out, and it smells like linen. Being rich certainly doesn’t suck. I put my arm around her waist as we make our way to the door. I open it, turning my key in the lock and leading the way into our home.

  The foyer has a mirrored table with fresh flowers on it. I don’t know what they are. White. Lilies maybe. Probably Amanda put them there. Or the maid. We walk down the long corridor and into the kitchen, hands entwined.

  “I don’t think they’re here,” I say to her. She shakes her head no. When we reach the living room, we stop dead in our tracks.

  “We are here,” Frank says, sitting on the white center couch. His wife is sitting next to him, her hands folded in her lap, head down, eyes toward the pristine white rug, through the crystal-and-glass coffee table that belonged to my great-grandmother Bourse. She looks up at us and smiles weakly.

  Madison and I stand stone in front of both our parents, hands still clasped. It then dawns on us to drop hands, but we do so suddenly, deliberately. Guiltily. All four of us in the living room, not saying anything.

  “Kids,” Frank begins. “Do you mind telling us what the fuck is going on?”

  “Frank!” Amanda exhales. “Come on now. There’s really no need to use that kind of language.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever heard the old man say fuck before.

  “If my kids are screwing each other, I think this is the perfect time for that kind of language.”

  I can see the blood drain from Madison’s face, just as I begin feeling pumped u
p. So what? So what if we are? I’m so tired of hiding.

  “What we mean to say is…” Amanda offers. “Tonight at the event there was a lot of speculation as to the nature of your relationship.”

  “That’s exactly what I said,” Frank finishes. “And this is going to stop right now.”

  “Mom, that’s insane. Who did you hear this from?” Madison starts laughing and shaking her head as if this is the most preposterous thing she has ever heard. I can tell it’s nervous laughter. It’s pluming off of her. Here’s hoping Amanda doesn’t recognize it as such.

  “Well… from that woman. Mrs. Saunders. And her daughter. And that terrible boy, the one who was giving me the creeps with the way he stared at you both.”

  Now I start laughing.

  “Are you really going to entertain the rumors of a bunch of stupid kids?” I say.

  “Mom, okay. That’s Noel,” Madison admits.

  “Who is Noel?” Amanda asks.

  “He’s… Okay. I was dating him while I was working at Paint Me, the craft store. While you guys were on your honeymoon. Then I broke up with him and he got all mad and got it into his head that it was because of Derrick.”

  “You were dating your boss?” Amanda’s eyes widen.

  “Who cares, Mom? The point is he’s still upset and spreading lies about us. That’s all.”

  Jesus, this kid has no poker face.

  “Right. It’s silly. You’re being silly, guys,” I say, calmly. I flash my best smile on instinct.

  Frank looks at me sternly, holding my gaze. He doesn’t buy this for a second.

  “I’ve found there’s always a grain of truth in rumors, son,” he says, still staring me down.

  “Especially where you’re concerned. And we all know your track record with women, Derrick. This would be no surprise to anyone, believe me. I hate to bring up the past, but you leave me no choice. Remember when I caught you with my assistant, for Christ’s sake? What were you, eighteen years old?”

  Okay, now I’m pissed. That’s below the belt. He continues.

  “That poor woman wanted to leave her husband for you. She thought she was in love with you. I had to fire her, it was a goddamn mess. Someone who worked for me for over ten years, with such promise, because you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”

  “That’s low. There’s no reason to bring that up now. Fuck you.” I can’t believe he’s bringing up Elena. Dad’s old assistant was my first love. I was young and foolish, but I’ll never regret that. Madison’s eyebrows furrow at Frank’s accusations.

  “How dare you curse at me,” he says. After he just cursed at us. I’m so tired of this shit.

  “This is… okay, fine. Don’t believe us,” I say. “I don’t care. We can’t force you to believe us, or anyone at school for that matter, so fuck it.”

  “Maybe we should take them at their word, Frank,” Amanda says, smoothing the shoulders of his suit jacket. Neither of them have changed their clothes since attending the exhibition.

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about my son, dear, it’s that where women are concerned, he cannot help himself. No offense to you, Madison. But you’re a young, attractive woman. Women throw themselves at my son all the time and he can’t say no.”

  Wow. I think this is the first time Frank has ever offered any sort of analysis of my character. Ever.

  “Was that rehearsed?” I ask him, scoffing. I stand up a bit straighter, leading with my chest.

  “That’s the first time you’ve ever expressed any opinion of me at all, do you realize that? I might as well be one of your collectibles for all you consider me. At least you’re aware that if you did know something about me, it would only be one thing.”

  “Oh, let’s not start this again,” Frank yells. “This is why I keep my conversations with you to a minimum. You always get so self-righteous.”

  He sighs.

  “Amanda, I’m tired. I want to go up to bed. You two do whatever the hell you like.”

  “I love you. We love you,” Amanda says, an awkward attempt to smooth things over. “We’re all tired. Let’s get some sleep.”

  “Sure. Sleep will fix it,” I say under my breath.

  With that, they both leave the room and head upstairs to bed.

  I turn to Madison. No one has ever seen me fight with my father before.

  “Well, I guess things can’t get any worse now,” I say, smiling.

  She starts laughing softly. Smooths her hands over my hair.

  “That was rough, I’m sorry. But…all those things he said about you…”

  Her face falls. I lift her chin with my hand so we’re looking into each other’s eyes.

  “Look, it’s not who I am anymore. Yes, I grew up with certain advantages and I’ve dated a lot of women. But I love you.”

  She smiles.

  “I love you too, you jerk. As inconvenient as that is.”

  “Want company in your room tonight?” I ask her, letting out a chuckle.

  She nods. “You might as well. They already think we’re fucking. What difference does it make now?” She shrugs, throwing her hands in the air.

  “Yeah, fuck it,” I answer.

  She heads to her room and I follow. It’s a routine we’ve enacted countless times before, but never when we’ve been under direct suspicion. Something about that turns me on. I watch the way the hem of her dress sways, the way the small of her back slopes, the way her heels highlight the strong muscles of her calves and send her round, tight ass up and out for my viewing pleasure.

  I walk into her room and shut the door lightly. Then I walk over to her, stand directly behind her. I can smell the scent of her skin and it makes me hard. Her hair is up, exposing the soft nape of her neck. I press my lips to it gently, kissing her.

  “May I?” I whisper, offering to unzip her dress.

  “Please,” she says, leaning her head back slightly.

  I unhook the small metal clasp at the top of the dress, grab the closure and begin to pull down. The soft, grating sound of the zipper excites me, exposing the straps of her lace bra, the flesh of her back down to the crack of her ass. My breath falls on her skin, and I steadily kiss her soft shoulders.

  The dress falls off of her, falls right down to the floor at her feet. She’s left standing in a cream-colored lace bra and thong, still facing away from me. I kneel to the floor, past her delectable ass to her ankles, and lift one and then the other out of the dress. She’s still in the patent-leather high heels, beige or pink or whatever color she said they were. She knows not to turn around, although it’s an unspoken pact between us. I rise back up to my feet, not touching her for a moment, but just looking at her. What I want is to throw her on the bed and enter her immediately, throw her legs over her head and shove my cock all the way inside of her until she can’t take anymore, but I resist. She turns her head to one side, like she wants to look back at me, see where I went, see what I will do next. It’s a sweet moment of tension that I want to let ride. We both say nothing.

  Finally, I wrap my arms around her waist, pull her strongly back toward me, cup her breasts with my hands and pinch her nipples. She gasps in surprise and pleasure. I know how wet that makes her pussy.

  I pinch her nipples again, hard enough to get a gasp out of her before backing off entirely. It keeps her guessing. She moans as my hand plunges down her torso over her satin thong. I don’t put my hand in her panties, not yet, but instead explore the outline of her pussy with my fingers over her underwear. I glide one finger up and down over her pussy like this, teasing it ever so softly, before moving it in little circles over her clit. I want to make her beg me to press down on her pussy and send shocks of pleasure throughout her body.

  I keep making maddeningly soft, but deliberate circles over her clit. I do this for longer than before, and just as she falls into the pleasure, when her muscles relax because she thinks I’ll keep going, I back off completely and run
my fingers down to her opening and back up again. She lets out an exasperated moan. I smile. I’m still deliberately not applying any pressure.

  After a few more moments of this teasing, her arms have goosebumps. Her breath has quickened considerably. Madison begins to let out little high-pitched, pleading moans as I’m rubbing her, and I’m back to making circles over her clit. I want to see how far I can push her. Will she come this way if I don’t stop rubbing?

  The satin is even wetter now, and if I run my thumb over my middle and forefingers I can feel that my fingers are wet too. She soaked through her panties.

  “Please,” she begins to whisper. “Please, Derrick.”

  “Please what?” I ask, my lips in her ear, nibbling on her neck.

  “Please… please fuck me. I don’t want to come yet.”

  I plunge my fingers into her pussy and she’s dripping wet. Wetter than I think I’ve ever felt her before.

  “Mmm, you like to be teased,” I say.

  “Lie down,” I order her. “On the floor.”

  She does as I say, lying on her back on the hardwood floor of the bedroom. She stares up at me. I know she wants to take any orders I give her right now.

  I get down on my knees in front of her. Her face and chest are flushed a delightful pink color. Her high heels are still on. She bends her knees and spreads her legs wide, feet on the floor.

  I take off my shirt and unbutton my pants before pinning her arms above her head. I hold them there as I lick and kiss her neck, her chest. I pull her bra down, exposing her breasts completely. She still has goosebumps and her nipples are erect. I swirl my tongue over her nipples before sucking on them, licking her there the same way I might lick her clit, if she were so lucky.

  She bites down on her flushed pink lips, trying not to scream her head off. Good girl. My nostrils are full with the scent of her as I keep kissing, running my lips down the front of her body, over her navel, her thighs.

  By the time I reach her pussy, the scent between her legs makes my cock so hard that it’s pulsing. I tear her panties off and see that her pussy is glistening wet, engorged, and just as pink as the rest of her. She thinks I’m going to fuck her here and now. That’s what she expects. I won’t.