by Alex Lucian
There was a collective laughter but my heart was thundering, competing with the commotion in the room.
When the class ended and the last student departed, Nathan remained on the other side of the room, still leaning against his desk.
“That’s a yes, isn’t it?”
Slowly, a smile lifted the corners of his lips, bringing with it an ache within me. He looked so young, boyish even, when he smiled like that.
Rising from my desk, I walked slowly down the step to the floor, my heels clicking as I approached him. “You seemed very relaxed—dare I say even happy—today. I wonder why?” Biting my lip, I knew my eyes still smiled, happy.
His hands were tucked in his pockets and he shrugged.
“Do I maybe bring a little something out in you? Some crazy kind of recklessness akin to going to fraternity Halloween parties?” I wanted to touch him, but I knew he wouldn’t invite the touch when we could easily be walked in on.
“Maybe you do,” he said softly, thoughtfully. His eyes softened and before I knew what he was doing, he’d reached forward and pulled me to him. “Kiss me before I bend you over this desk.”
A thrill raced up my spine and though it was against my nature, I complied, kissing him softly first before pressing my entire body hard against him. When he gently pushed me away, he looked as tortured as I knew I must have. “Where’s my mask?”
Pulling it from my bag, I handed it to him, my fingers lingering on his. “The mad hatter.”
His eyes lingered on the mask, long fingers running over the grooves and curves. So softly I nearly didn’t hear him, he asked, “Have I gone mad?”
My heart tumbled in my chest, tripping right over the Alice in Wonderland quote.
He looked at me, eyes patient, as if he was seeing right through me.
I brushed the hair from his forehead. “I’m afraid so. You’re entirely bonkers.” My lips spread. “But I’ll tell you a secret.” My hand moved down his face, cupping his jaw, my thumb brushing over his bottom lip. I tilted my head to the side, lowered my voice. “All the best people are.”
I kissed him again—my idea this time—and he didn’t push me away. When I finally pulled back, he stopped me, a hand on my hair. Angling his head down so his eyes were in line with mine, he said, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“This isn’t fun yet,” I leaned in to shout into Adele’s ear. Or at least where I think her ear was, behind the wig. She must have heard me though, because she looked over her shoulder and grinned at me. Her face was the same, of course, but the Alice hair she was wearing was a white-blonde wig, almost Bridget Bardot-like, with curled pig-tails on either side of her head and a thick black headband sitting toward the front of her head, long swooping bangs across her forehead.
“Don’t be a party pooper, old man.” Then she reached around and pinched my ass underneath the ridiculous black cape I was wearing. When I slipped my hand underneath the ruffled blue skirt to do the same to her, she swatted my arm away, then grabbed it and marched us further into the frat house.
She was probably right. I couldn’t remember having any of the Sigma Chi members in my creative writing classes, so between that and my costume, and the copious amounts of alcohol that was currently being consumed by the swaying crush of bodies in the house, it was highly unlikely that anyone would recognize me.
The mask that Adele had bought for me completely covered my face. It had a sharp, hawk-like nose, small cutouts all over the face, and showed only the skin around my eyes, the length of the metal going from my forehead to my chin, the opening at the mouth only adequate for taking small drinks through it.
She said I was the Mad Hatter, but nobody would have guessed that, so I played along. Truthfully, I didn’t know whether I was The Phantom of the Opera, or a warrior, or a birdman. All I knew was that I was wearing all black like a chump, and I was walking around with the sexiest Alice in Wonderland I’d ever laid eyes on.
When we got home, I was going to fuck her with those thigh high socks on, and maybe let her keep the wig on too. I inhaled through the nose, the sharp, pungent smell of marijuana helping to tame the hardening of my cock. But I couldn’t help it, she looked like a wet dream, in that tiny blue dress with the frilly white apron over it, her cleavage pushing up and over the neckline of the dress. Men’s eyes followed her with every step of those fuck-me red stilettos, then moved on when they saw her gripping me close to her. Which was good, because I didn’t want to have to beat the hell out of anyone here.
Pounding bass shook the foundation of the house, and the half-naked women that embodied well more than half of the party attendees ensured that their attention span on my half-naked woman was blissfully short. The lights were dim, only strings of orange and purple lights stretching across the ceiling lit the way toward the alcohol, which I was unlikely to drink. But, I’d promised to come out and have fun with her.
Someone knocked into my shoulder and I glared, realizing how ineffectual that was. Nobody could see my damn face. So I shifted and walked directly behind Adele, taking one hedonistic moment to grip her hips and pull her ass back into me while we waited for a line of cheerleaders to wind past us. She pushed back into me, making a slight grinding motion to the beat of the music, hardening me instantly.
Then she stopped, yelling over her shoulder at me. “Drinks! We need drinks first.”
I nodded and we continued to slow trek to the kitchen.
God, if any faculty knew I was here. I shook that off when the lights finally brightened. Apparently they all needed to be able to see to get inebriated. Adele chatted with the guy at the keg and I actively didn’t listen. I absolutely did not need to hear what men said to her at parties like this. Because if I knew? I’d probably never let her go.
Actually, maybe I did want to hear. She laughed, said thanks, and turned to me with two full red cups. After handing me one, she watched over the rim while I took a sip. Then laughed when I grimaced.
“Well, it’s certainly not my favorite.”
“And what kind of beer would that be?” She lifted the hand that held her own cup, took a long drink. I watched, transfixed, while she licked some foam off her upper lip. “Nathan?”
“Oh. Right.” Her lips curved up in a slow smile, and the lights in the kitchen made her look like an evil Alice, like she should have tiny little horns sticking up from the wig. “I prefer Belgian style ales. Not warm domestics that taste like recycled piss.”
She tilted her head back and gave a delighted laugh. “Shit, you are such a snob. Didn’t you ever drink in college?”
“Sure. But I don’t remember it tasting this bad.” With another long drink, she set her cup down. Her empty cup. Then she grabbed mine. “Okaaaaay. You trying to set a record?”
Adele shook her head, then took another swallow. “Just wanted to empty it enough so we can go dance and I don’t have to worry about spilling it down my dress.”
The tip of her pointer finger followed the front of the pale blue material that was pushing her breasts up and out. It was so low cut that I could see the white lace edge of her bra from where I stood over her. Some idiot behind me obviously saw her doing it too.
“Holy hell,” he said, voice full of awe. “This is the greatest party ever.”
I turned and narrowed my eyes, but of course, he wasn’t paying me one lick of attention. His blurry eyes were focused right on Adele’s spectacular cleavage.
“Hey,” I snapped and he blinked over at me. “Go the fuck away.”
Even with my voice slightly muffled by the mask, he got the message, and stumbled out of the room. And Adele leaned into me, wrapping her free arm around my waist, which pushed her breasts into my chest. “Mm, I love it when you go all caveman. You don’t even know what it makes me want to do to you.”
“Come on, trouble-maker. Let’s go dance and get this over with.”
We wove our way back to the main room, the dark, writhing space having
a much safer feel than the brightness in the kitchen. When there was a slight opening among the people who were dancing, Adele turned to me, and smoothed her hands up my chest until she gripped the back of my neck. I fit one leg in between hers, and we started to move.
Beyoncé sang to a faster beat than we moved to, we were setting our own pace, grinding against each other, her hands tightening in my hair when I’d use my hands to tilt her hips harder into my own.
I wanted to rip my mask off and claim her mouth. The way she looking up at me, she was fucking me with her eyes. And I’d seen that look on her before, the very first night we were together. The way our bodies moved, not even cognizant of the beat, just moved together to something that no one else could hear.
It was raw attraction. An unfettered, clawing lust that I’d never experienced in my entire life. I ripped her arms from around my neck and turned her around so that her ass pressed against me. She pushed into me even further, making slow circles with her hips, driving me absolutely fucking insane. My arms were wrapped so tightly around her, one just under the curve of her breasts, and one lower, so I could push my hand down on her pelvis.
The skin under the mask was so hot, like I’d covered it with the sun, instead of some cheap metal. I couldn’t take it. My hands itched to work under her skirt and into her underwear, feel how wet she was for me.
So I grabbed her hand and yanked her behind me, weaving through the increasingly drunk crowds until I found a door that would take us out. There were more people outside, laughing maniacally and speaking so much more loudly than the situation demanded. I took a sharp curve around the building and followed the red brick until I turned again, this time going around the perimeter of the next house.
I could hear the clicking of Adele’s heels behind me, but I didn’t look. I couldn’t. Because if I did, I’d take her right there. Not giving one shit if anyone could see us. When we reached the side of the house far opposite of the frat, the sounds of the party were muffled. The thin, dark alley was completely covered in shadow.
My blood was boiling in my veins, the thrill of no one knowing who I was, of holding her in my arms and practically fucking her on that dance floor was heady and thick.
I pushed her up against the brick wall and ripped my mask off. We kissed like we were lighting ourselves on fire, moaning and groaning and grabbing at anything we could reach. My hand into her top, palming her breast roughly, her fingers around my still-covered dick, a tight vise that didn’t feel nearly as good as her pussy would.
There were voices close enough that I could differentiate men and women, but not hear what they were saying. I felt invincible.
I ripped the zipper down on my pants and hefted her up on the wall.
“This?” I said against her mouth while I pulled my cock out. “This is what I wanted to do to you that first night.”
“Yes,” she hissed, scoring her fingernails against the back of my neck. Keeping one arm wrapped firmly around her back, I found the edge of her underwear and wrenched it aside. I didn’t have the mobility to let go of her so I could test her, but I didn’t fucking care. And neither did she. Adele was just a writhing mass of impatience, shifting down so that the head of my cock lined up with her. She shoved down while I shoved up and my balls slapped against her ass.
I fucked her against that wall, the way our movements were limited making it nothing other than a rutting, thrusting, dirty thing. I could still taste the tang of beer on her tongue when I sucked it into my mouth, and it made her pussy clench in tiny pulses when I did it.
“God, Nathan,” she moaned. “Fuck me. Harder, harder.”
So I did. Who could’ve said no to her? I slammed into her, over and over, until I couldn’t hold back the racing fire in my body. She stiffened and cried out, clenching my dick in an impossibly tight fist. With one last thrust, I came, groaning into her mouth and then sinking my forehead into the crook of her neck. When I pulled out, the rush of liquid that followed gave me a sick sense of pleasure. We had no way to clean up, so she’d feel me like that, coating the insides of her thighs while the stupid little boys in the house gawked at her.
She was still slumped against the wall, breathing hard and smiling. “That was pretty epic, Professor Easton.”
I shushed her, even though no one could have heard her. Her face was flushed, and I traced my thumb along her cheekbone.
“Have I ever told you that you look exceptionally gorgeous after you come?”
She laughed, leaning in to hug me. We stayed that way for a couple moments, stealing a sweet embrace in the darkness.
“Can we go home now?” she asked when she finally pulled back. “I don’t want to share you anymore tonight.”
“I don’t want to share you anymore, either,” I said back, and the truth of those words didn’t feel as scary, hidden as we were. I placed the mask back over my face and wrapped my arm around her while we walked back toward where we could hail a cab.
When the yellow car was pulling up to the curb, she turned back to me and smiled. “You realize that we’re going to have to do that again, right?”
“What?”
Right before she opened the door, she leaned up and whispered in my ear. “You. Fucking me in public.”
“Get in the car, Alice,” I admonished with absolutely no heat in my tone. When she turned to slide in, I grinned. Because hell yeah we were doing that again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
November passed quickly, the red and gold leaves curling up and turning brown and brittle. Between class, picking up a few extra shifts so I could pay for the Wi-Fi I had finally signed up for, and trying to sneak in time with Nathan, I’d barely registered that winter was on the horizon until I’d slipped on my ass on the sidewalk in front of my apartment, landing on ice. My hand had hit knuckles first into the ice and the sharp sting of the blow made me loudly groan, “Mother fucker!”
I tried rolling over to my knees to pull to standing but that resulted in another swear. My knees were bruised from the blow job I’d given Nathan in his shower, the blow job I’d purposefully taken a very long time in giving—just so he could experience an explosive orgasm of his own. He’d given me so many, after all.
But then I’d been stuck on the floor, my knees bearing imprints of his tile. We’d laughed as he’d picked me up and set me on the counter to dry me off, but days later they were still bruised and aching.
I pulled myself to the steps to my building and pulled off my glove, checking my knuckles for bleeding. They were red, maybe beginning to swell a little, but when I flexed them, I didn’t feel pain apart from the stretch in the tissue where I’d hit.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Celeste: What’s your major again?
I stared at my phone, puzzled. Either Celeste was looking to drag me down for what she called my “fake” major or she genuinely couldn’t remember. The former would be her acting like a bitch and the latter would be her being an uncaring bitch. One way or another, I wouldn’t win.
Me: Creative writing. Why?
Celeste: Ah, that’s right. I just wondered if you’d changed your mind yet.
I had to bite my tongue to keep the anger from taking over.
Me: Why would I change my mind?
Celeste: Dad would be more than happy to support you, financially, if you were going to school for something that you didn’t already know how to do.
I resisted the urge to throw my phone across the ice, mostly because I couldn’t afford to replace it at the time. Because Celeste was right; I wasn’t supported financially because of my choice of study. When I’d announced my major, my dad had been silent, as usual, but he hadn’t offered any kind of financial support—the only thing he could have offered me.
And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been tempted by the idea of changing my major to have his help. Being broke and living meagerly was stressful. But I’d stuck to my guns all the year before and this year—too proud to admit I needed anything fr
om him. But Ramen and toast for the majority of my meals was getting old. And the student loans looming over my head were another reminder that post-graduation, the Ramen and toast situation wouldn’t likely change.
Celeste: Mom worries about you. And Dad wanted me to let you know if you changed your major, he’d support you fully. Tuition and rent.
Fuck. The word dragged out in my head. The offer was tempting. But I couldn’t give up writing, not when I loved it as much as I did.
Me: That’s nice.
It was the only reply I could come up with. I clicked back to my list of messages, glancing my eyes from Leo’s unread message from days earlier. I only saw a preview of it: I think we should…
I wasn’t ready to read what he thought. I was miles away from where I’d been when I’d sloppily kissed him. I’d been confused, lonely. Now, I was being thoroughly fucked by my professor and getting high off just being around him. So I continually put Leo off, hoping that by Thanksgiving I’d yank the tail out between my legs and apologize.
I clicked on Nathan’s name.
Me: What are you doing right now?
His reply took a minute and I tucked my hand into my jacket to warm up my fingers until his message popped through.
Nathan: Waiting for you to come to my office.
Me: Oh?
Nathan: I recall you wanting me to bend you over my desk once.