Pupil: Inspired By a True Story

by Zoey Long

  Madison follows behind me and I assume that Amanda is upstairs in their bedroom, frantically screaming on the phone to my father this very minute that their kids are fucking each other. Then I see her coming slowly down the stairs.

  “I need to speak to both of you,” she says. “Now.”

  She keeps walking toward the living room, not checking to see if we’re following her, just assuming we are. I feel like we’re little kids, about to get scolded for drawing on the walls in crayon, not for barebacking. This is fucked up. I go into the kitchen to dispose of the glass in my hand before turning back to Madison.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I whisper to her. I lift her chin and place a small, soundless kiss on her lips. Her face is red, and she nods before going to follow her mother.

  Amanda is sitting straight up on the couch in front of the glass coffee table. Her legs are crossed, and she has what looks a hell of a lot like my grandmother’s ten-piece sterling silver tea set laid out in front of her. I remember it from when I was a kid. There’s a silver-plated reflective serving tray, a sugar bowl filled to the top with cubes, teacups and flatware, and an elegant-looking teapot with a long, curved spout, pointing upwards. She has teabags laid out on the serving tray, from chamomile to sencha green. I highly doubt this is “just caught you fucking each other” teatime, but that’s what it’s starting to feel like.

  “What the heck is this?” I ask her, trying not to laugh.

  She lights a cigarette.

  “Mom, you don’t smoke,” Madison says, confused.

  “I do now,” Amanda returns, blowing a cloud of blue over her head.

  Now I do laugh.

  “Young man, please stop that,” Amanda says.

  “Come on, Amanda. What is this? When did you have time to set up a tea service? We’re sorry that you—”

  “Walked in on you banging your sister?” she finishes.

  A ball of discomfort settles in my stomach.

  I look at Amanda on the couch, her legs crossed. She is obviously a former smoker. I can always tell who’s new at it and who’s returning to a former life. She takes long, deep drags off the cigarette from muscle memory. Her throat contracts, her chest lifts, before long plumes escape her lips. She doesn’t fumble with the cigarette, not sure what she should do with her hands. She knows.

  “This,” she begins again.

  “This was the tea service I had set out for my colleagues at the art school where I am teaching currently. They were due here in one half hour. The cucumber-and-cream-cheese finger sandwiches with the crusts cut off are chilling in the Frigidaire.”

  I let out a loud guffaw, and Madison hits me in the arm. Just like a sister might.

  “Yes. Very funny. It would have been hilarious to have the head of the department come over with about six of my friends and have them sit with me and enjoy a cup of tea from this fabulous antique tea set and be serenaded with the sounds of my children fornicating in the next room.”

  Madison looks like she wants to crawl out of her skin.

  “Am I happy your father isn’t here. I’m the reasonable one.”

  Amanda takes another drag before stubbing it out in a mother-of-pearl ashtray at the end of the coffee table. I’ve never seen it before. She takes a thin metal cigarette case out of her pocket and lights another immediately. This is starting to officially get too weird.

  “Okay. With all due respect, Amanda, we are all adults here. Madison and I care about one another very deeply.”

  “I think all respect just went out the window.”

  Then, under her breath, I can swear I heard her say, “And I saw just how deeply…” but I can’t be sure if it was my imagination.

  I hear footsteps in the hallway.

  “What’s happening in here?” Frank asks, walking into the living room. Madison puts a hand on her forehead, not looking at either of our parents.

  “Ah, how perfect.” Amanda takes another smooth drag off her newly lit cigarette.

  Frank furrows his eyebrows.

  “Since when do you smoke?” he asks his wife, as confounded by the scene as we are.

  “Since I was given a reason to,” she responds, putting her cigarette down in the ashtray.

  “It seems, my darling, that our children have taken it upon themselves to begin fucking.”

  Frank erupts in a rage.

  “In my house? How dare you. Are you kidding me? Derrick, didn’t I just warn you about this?”

  Damn it.

  Madison shoots me a look of confusion.

  “You can’t be trusted at all, can you?” he continues. “So much for our father–son time. So much for our lunch, and you can forget all about your little business venture. At least, you can forget about my help.”

  “Frank, can we—”

  “Ah, so I’m not Dad anymore? Of course not.”

  Amanda stands up.

  “I caught them. I walked into Madison’s room. Her door was wide open and I saw them. I saw more than I ever cared to.”

  I grab Frank’s arm and lead him out of the living room.

  “Dad, look. It’s not what you think.”

  He laughs at me. I know he’s thinking about Elena, about all the other women in my life that were just a number, were just conquests and notches on my bedpost. I actually don’t blame him. But I have changed. He folds his arms over his chest.

  “Please, regale me with how this time is different.”

  “I love her.”

  “Just like you loved my assistant.”

  “That is so unfair. I was a kid, for fuck’s sake. You can’t hold that against me forever. That was years ago. And I love Madison, truly. I tried to stop seeing her, to get her out of my system, but I can’t. Neither of us can. Obviously.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Just like you, Derrick. No respect for anyone at all. Your poor stepmother. I don’t even want to know what she saw today. I can only imagine.”

  I look down at the floor, stifling a grin.

  “Out of all the girls in New York City, you had to go after your fucking sister. Way to make my life easier. Thank you. You need to stop this. I won’t accept it. How long has this been going on? I feel like an idiot. You’ve probably been screwing her since we moved in here.”

  “Please stop talking about her like that,” I ask him. I’m starting to get pissed.

  “It’s none of your business. If you won’t help me with the studio, I’ll do it myself. I don’t need your help. I don’t need you at all. I never did.”

  “Oh, really? You never needed me at all—that’s a riot. You don’t need this apartment, your rooftop pool, the private school education I’ve been handing you since before you could wipe your own ass? You’ve never wanted for anything in your entire life. You spoiled, ungrateful little shit.”

  Madison and her mother can hear this, I’m sure of it. I’m not going to trade insults with him. Not anymore. I stand back, lock eyes with him, and for the first time his face looks like a reflection of my own. He has provided a lot for me. But he’s also an asshole.

  “You can’t throw my whole life in my face just because I fell in love with her.”

  I run back to the living room to find Madison, but she isn’t there. Amanda is still sitting on the couch in a daze, staring at the tea set. I don’t engage.

  I go back down the long marble hallway to Madison’s room. The door is closed. Soft light from inside illuminates the door frame.

  “Madison?” I whisper.

  I rap my knuckles lightly on the door. She opens it a crack. I see just her big brown eyes, warm and open, reddened from crying.

  “Do you want to get the fuck out of here?”

  She smiles. “God, yes. Please.”

  Madison technically has a dorm room on campus, even though she never stays there. Her roommate is an antisocial goth type who sits in her bed and reads textbooks on embalming.

  “Ma
rnie is out of town this week,” she explains as we get into a cab.

  “She’s visiting her folks. I don’t really have anything there but my painting supplies, but we can go there if you want to.”

  I’ll go wherever she wants me to. Her legs are pressed tightly against mine in the backseat of the cab and it’s delightful. She’s warm to the touch, and the vanilla scent of her rises from her skin and tantalizes every part of me.

  “Sure,” I say sweetly, grabbing her hand. I kiss her on the cheek, and she turns immediately, putting her mouth on mine. The kiss is wet, yielding. I run my hands through her thick waves of hair, and the taste of her sends shivers to my cock.

  “I want you,” I whisper in her ear. She bites her lip and looks at the cab driver through the plastic partition. He’s not paying us any attention. Without taking her eyes from the back of his head, Madison presses my hand between her legs. God, she feels good.

  She holds me there, tightly around the wrist as I begin rubbing her in little circles. She clenches tighter around my hand, I can feel the outline of her pussy, her clit stiffening beneath my fingers. My cock hardens and she takes notice. I don’t want her to do anything about that right now. I’d rather concentrate on the patterns of her breath as she tries desperately not to make a sound. She lets out little moans, biting hard on her lower lip, and it’s driving me nuts.

  “Mmff,” she moans, almost imperceptibly. I wonder if I can make her come right now in the back of this cab. I keep my arm steady. She’s still gripping my wrist like a vise. My rhythm is unrelenting. I can feel the crotch of her pants start to moisten, through her underwear and the outer fabric. I slow down a little. I want to tease her. She grips my wrist immediately, digging her nails into my skin. I smirk.

  The cab stops. We’re in front of her building.

  I hear the chirping noise of the meter stopping. Madison lets out a laugh, and I remove my hand quickly from between her legs. She’s panting as I reach for my wallet.

  “Eleven fifty,” the driver says.

  I get my credit card out of the wallet and slide it through the reader. I decide to give him a twenty percent tip, just in case this was awkward for him in any way.

  “Thank you!” Madison says abruptly and opens the curbside door, jumping out.

  “Do you need a receipt?” the driver asks. But we’re both out the door and doubled over laughing hysterically before he can get an answer.

  Chapter 6: Madison

  I take Derrick’s hand and lead him past the theater building, advertising the opening of Electra and Orestes. Drama students are sitting outside the building. There are three or four of them along the stone wall, laughing while looking at their phones and sporting way too much eye makeup. My dorm is just past the bookstore, if I remember correctly.

  I take out my ID and it beeps us into the building.

  “I’m on the second floor,” I say, leading him up the stairs.

  Derrick starts touching my ass as we walk upstairs, and my heart is pounding. I look around us to see if there’s anyone else in view.

  “Relax,” he whispers.

  As I fumble for my keys in the doorway, Derrick’s arms are already around my waist, under my shirt. His skin against mine feels like it belongs there as he slips his fingers up and over my bare breasts and pulls me back into his body. I can feel that he’s hard and I grind my ass into his bulge, making him kiss my neck. I lean my head back and pull him closer.

  I open the door and the room is dark, aside from the cloudy midday light coming through the windows. Marnie isn’t there. I held a tiny shred of fear that she’d be in the room somehow, and I’d really not get to come today. Ever. Derrick closes the door behind him, and before I can even reach for the light switch, his hands are all over me again. I turn to face him, kissing him deeply on the mouth.

  “At last,” I say. “Maybe we can finish this time?” I ask breathlessly, reaching for his cock. I push my hand into his pants, under his boxers, and grip his warm, hard cock with my palm.

  “Mmm…” he moans as I begin to stroke him, licking my palm before touching him again. He grabs my wrist, spins me around and pulls me into his body, licking the length of my neck, sending shivers to my aching pussy. He puts his palm lightly around my throat as he uses his other hand to pinch my nipples through my shirt. Then he stops.

  “Stand still,” he orders me.

  He pulls down my pants and I step out of them, bare-assed underneath. I didn’t have a chance to put underwear back on.

  “Lift your arms.”

  He gently slides my shirt up and over my head, and I’m standing completely naked in front of my brother, alone in this room at last. I feel exposed, a little chilly. My skin pricks with goosebumps, but I’m not sure if it’s from excitement or the cold temperature. I wait quietly for his next command. I hear the door latch lock.

  “Oh, now you lock it,” I say with a giggle.

  He says nothing. I have an almost irrepressible urge to turn around. I don’t know where exactly he is in the room and I want him to touch me right now more than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life.

  “Get on your hands and knees. On the bed,” he says.

  His command sends shivers through my body. I’m determined not to break this moment and look back into his eyes. I simply follow his directions and get on my hands and knees on the bed, my whole body on display for his gaze alone.

  I close my eyes and hear Derrick’s footsteps behind me, then a creaking noise as he opens the door to my closet and reaches for something. I’m burning with curiosity, and only a tad angry that he’s touching my things without asking.

  “Put this underneath you,” he orders, and hands me a white sheet.

  “Then get back in that position.”

  Now I’m really curious. I want to ask him what he has in mind. What do we need the sheet for? What kind of mess is he planning on making? What’s going on? But I won’t. The wondering is just as delicious as it is maddening. Instead I simply follow his directions, shifting my weight to my palms and getting off the bed, taking the folded white sheet from his open arms. It’s warmer than I am and feels good on my skin. I open the sheet up, lay it down across my bed. I realize I’ve never even slept in here. Not once.

  I don’t look at Derrick. I just get back on all fours, hands and knees pressed into the sheet.

  “Good,” he says.

  Then I feel Derrick’s warm hands over my back, down my back, over my bare ass and down the backs of my thighs. I push into his palms like a cat, eager for his touch. Then his fingers find my pussy from behind.

  “Poor baby,” he says.

  “You’ve been working yourself up all day. Your pussy is dripping.”

  “Yes…” I breathe.

  “You haven’t gotten to come at all today.”

  As he says this, he’s fingering my hole with two fingers, teasing the opening of my pussy before moving up to run my clit. I feel little shocks of pleasure sharply commanding my attention. I feel his hot breath on me then, and he’s lapping at my pussy from behind, taking my clit in his mouth and running his tongue down the length of me before putting his tongue inside me. He braces his hands against my ass and starts pulling me back toward his mouth.

  “Oh God…” I moan.

  His tongue moves rhythmically over my clit, and the muscles of my arms contract as I try to hold myself up. The waves of pleasure are shooting up inside of me now. I feel myself start clenching.

  “Yes… just like that… please… don’t…don’t…”

  I wish with all of me that he keeps going, just like that. Please don’t stop. Please don’t… just… please let me… please…

  I come like that, with his face in my pussy, deeply, finally, my ass jerking back toward his face, wanting to rub myself all over him, orgasm ripping through my whole body from my feet to the top of my head as I struggle to hold myself up. I give in to the sweet release, let my muscles go and fall for
ward onto the bed, pressing my pelvis into the sheet, slippery and warm.

  Then Derrick is on top of me, kissing the back of my neck, I feel the firmness of his torso and his cock, slick and hard, rubbing between my thighs. I left myself up again, reach behind me.

  “Shh…” he says. He’s already on it. I feel him adjust and then slowly guide himself inside of me before slipping the whole length of him in me at once. I let out a deep, guttural moan, desire churning in my core once again, pushing my ass back into him hard.

  “That’s right… fuck me,” he says.

  I realize I want his come. I want him to shoot it inside of me, over my back, into my mouth, onto my face, wherever he wants. Derrick pulls himself almost completely out of me before slamming into me again, filling me to the hilt. He slaps my ass and the sting of it reaches the top of my head.

  “Yes, baby… yes… please. I want your come,” I moan, and he picks up the pace.

  “Where do you want it?” he asks me.

  “In me. Come in me,” I hear myself say. I want him as close to me as possible.

  I start to feel my muscles clench around him again. Everything is so wet that I think I might come again as I hear him gasp and moan, pushing his palm deep into the meat of my ass, probably leaving a mark.

  “Fuck,” he says, and a few more seconds means I feel him shudder, shooting his load inside of me. It makes me clench hard on him, biting my lip.

  Derrick collapses over my back, his lips finding my skin and kissing just under my shoulder blades. He’s still inside of me. Then I collapse onto the bed too, and we lie like that, one on top of the other for a moment. I turn my head to the side, my hair falling in waves over me. I lick my lip and taste metal. I must have drawn blood.

  “Now we can have some real fun,” he says, jumping up.

  I flip over immediately, see him walking over to my easel and art supplies from the apartment studio.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him.

  He flashes me an impish smile, fumbles with a few things.