by K. M. Keeton
“If you touch anyone, in any way they don’t want, there will be a completely different street we’ll be dragging you to. You won’t be exiting it. Clear?” I whisper in his ear as he’s bent over clutching his stomach.
His frantic jerk of the head, and the snotty mess that he’s lowered too makes me release him.
“Now get out of here, and remember what I’ve said,” he doesn’t dare to look back as he bolts across the street as fast as his legs can carry him.
“I don’t think Ric will be happy,” Bear insists.
I shrug, “He said to scare him, we did that. No need to send him home broken.”
“I’d rather send him home broken, it sends a clear message as to the seriousness of the offence,” said Bear.
I turn half way to look at him, “It’s not like he raped her. He was touching her through clothes.”
“That’s how creeps like him start,” his frown deepens.
“You speak like you know something about it,” silence filled the space between us for a second before I continue, “Plus Teddy is about the same age. I couldn't really stomach doing much more and that's probably why Ric asked me to do it in the first place.”
He grunts in response, eyes narrow, and it's clear he's done talking about it. No use trying to get anything else out of him. Actually, I hardly know anything about Bear. He is a quiet, intimidating man, yet when he does say something he’s sincere. I like him because he speaks little, and always listens to me bitch without complaint. I'm kind of a selfish prick. As we walk quietly back to our bikes, I wonder what I can do to change that.
Neither of us say anything even when we arrive at the clubhouse. We dismount our bikes and walk inside. Weaving through the crowd and various mixed matched furniture, I place myself behind the bar. I tip my chin up in the direction of the other bartender, Echo.
His cool grey eyes catch the movement, and mimics my greeting. His stupid man bun swinging with every motion of his head.
“Hey, you’re cutting it close aren’t you?” he says as he pours a double shot of bourbon.
“Ric had me out doing a job. I just got back,” sliding a beer on the bar I glance at Echo, “By the way I need to be outta here by six thirty.”
He nods his acknowledgment as he works on the next drink. His arms free of tattoos. I'm not even sure how that's possible, but it works for him. He seems to have way too many scars already without adding ink to his skin, “I remember you telling me last week. Don’t worry, I got someone to cover your shift.”
“Cool, thanks.”
For the rest of the time we work in silence. Echo was as conversational as Bear, but with Echo it was obvious he didn't have a need for idle chit chat. Tank was the only one that knew his story, since they were in the military together. Ric being ex military made it an easy decision to welcome them as soon as they requested to join.
We nod again towards one another when the crowd starts to dissipate, and he leaves me to cover the bar. Though, since it’s now a bit after four thirty there shouldn’t be too many people showing up until I’m ready to leave.
Since there are only five people lounging around, I have the opportunity to wipe tables down. The older bikers don’t do much anymore, except fill their bodily tanks with alcohol, ride on the Saturday road trips, and go home to their old ladies or club girls.
Despite this place being an abandoned warehouse Ric knew how to spruce it up. Walking in the door even with everything being mixed matched, it all fit together. The pair of dark auburn couches facing each other and a glass table in-between. Next to the paneled windows there is a set of grey chairs circling a black table. A tan couch and a long steel table with wooden stools. On the opposite wall there are wooden tables, red or dark colored chairs around them. The stairs I should have taken according to Ric, were against the far wall. Last but not least, the bar sits in a niche that is closest to the double doors. Which is where I spend most of my nights tending bar.
The only thing steady about this job is the tips. I have been tempted to start another job elsewhere, but with my association with the club, I doubt anyone would take a chance on me. We’re not known for illegal activity; for the most part, we’re on the right side of the law. Everyone in town knows us and tend to avoid us unless they need something taken care of that the cops are taking too long to deal with.
It was the only choice I had under the circumstances at the time. I brush off the thought and return behind the bar. The rest of the day moves quickly. The regulars drag in; until, as I predicted the flood gates break through about the time I have to leave.
I exhale in relief when Tank jumps over the bar top and lands besides me. Unlike Echo Tank had every available inch of his skin covered in ink. Seems as if he is trying to hide behind them, or overcompensate for Echo. Those two, thick as thieves, but couldn't be more opposite, ”You’re ten minutes late dude, I gotta go.” I throw the towel I had hanging over my shoulder at him. His mohawked head swerves to move out of the way as he catches it, his brown eyes smiling. I hop over the bar to not waste any time.
"Later Kid," a few say as they hit me on the back. Drunk idiots the lot of them, but the only family Teddy and I have.
Chapter 2 - Sara
The moment I saw his booted foot cross the threshold of my classroom I knew I was in trouble. Even before my eyes traveled up his body to his face I knew. Though the moment our eyes met I realize I wasn't only in trouble, I was doomed. I was drawn into his sphere, the gravity that surrounded him I became a part of its orbit, sucked into his world, his stars became my own.
I moved to this small town in the middle of nowhere to get away from his kind. The classic bad boy, the ones that make me go weak in the knees. He was the very definition. Dressed in black leather boots, torn jeans that gives me a peek of ink on his thighs, a simple t-shirt hugging his broad chest, and a leather jacket that hangs perfect off his frame. His face was a contradiction; it was a face of an angel, but I knew that the soul behind it only knew how to sin. His eyes were bright, brighter than the bluest sky on the clearest day. His chestnut hair almost hiding them from view. High cheekbones, straight nose, and some of the most luscious lips I’ve ever seen. Lips like that should be banned from ever being on a man. They only had one purpose, and I fought every fiber of my being to stay where I was and not put those lips to the test against mine.
I turn my gaze from his, back to the parent still sitting in front of me in the plastic chair by her daughter. Disregarding the speculative look she gives me I press on, and quickly resume our meeting where it had left off. I thanked her for coming, and told my student I would see her next week.
I wait until they leave to lift my head again. My body already humming with the knowledge of his presence. I allowed my eyes to drift to him as he sits in one of the seats meant for students in the back of the room, his feet lounging on the table top. The boy I knew as Teddy sat beside him.
Besides from their eyes, you wouldn't think these two were even related. Teddy is the opposite of the captivating man. Short hair close to his scalp, and grey rimmed glasses which set tilted more to one side since his nose has obviously been broken at least once. Teddy is tall and there isn't much of him that's muscle. Every time I have seen him walking in the hall he has a book in hand as if he is trying to forget where he is. Teddy is the smartest student I have in my class. I speculate he reads all the material before hand to prepare for his classes.
They start to move towards me, and I try to keep my eyes on Teddy. Knowing out of the two he's safest. As they both take their chairs in front of me, I can't resist the temptation. My eyes go to his lips again, as they inch their way up at one corner. I snap back to reality and hope he didn’t notice my stare.
"Hi. Teddy, who have you brought with you today?" I ask with a smile.
"Ms. Halaway, this is my brother Vince."
"Ms. Halaway, huh? Anything else I can call you?" for fuck sake, can my panties get any wetter in the presence of this man? The smooth caden
ce of his voice has my knees wanting to buckle. I lean against my desk before looking over to him. I try and make it a smooth transition, but by his smirk, I didn't succeed.
"No. Ms. Halaway is perfect for this meeting," I shove down the shiver when he gives me a smile, meant to rattle me.
Looking back over to Teddy again, "This is a night for me to talk to a parent. Were neither of them available? I'm not sure if it is appropriate to talk to your brother," Teddy has hunched his slender figure in his chair, and averted his gaze, as if I’ve said something to upset him. I try to analyze the exchange to discover the trigger, but nothing stands out.
Vince speaks again and it's not smooth anymore, in fact it has a hard edge that is cutting, "I'm the kids guardian. Shouldn't you know these kind of things about the kids in your class?"
I blanch at his tone. Teddy is the quietest student in my class. He is smart, not a troublemaker, and I never have to check up on him. I've had no reason to view his file and I would need a valid one to access them. I shake my head and decide to ignore his rude outburst. Though I suppose I deserve it for my inquiring remark.
"I'm glad you could come to this meeting then. It shows you're dedicated. Teddy is the best student I have."
"I already knew that. Aren't you going to answer my question?" his eyebrow raises, and his face is stone.
"Vince…," Teddy’s voice comes out in a hiss and for several tense moments they stare at one another. The tension fills the room until Vince looks over to me waving his hand for me to go on. I look at Teddy, who is smiling at me to offer a semblance of reassurance to proceed, as if I’m the student.
I bite the pad of my thumb unsure, but I go on, letting my hand fall by my side once more, “Ummm, as I’ve said your brother is the best student I have. He’s always prepared for class. The only thing that he may want to work on is interacting with kids his own age outside of class assignments, but he’s always great in group studies when he has to work with others.”
“So he’s great at talking to others, but he needs to work on it?” Vince says with a raised eyebrow.
“When the lesson requires him to interact, he’s fine. It’s obvious to me that he doesn’t have an issue with the actual communication. I suppose I mean for him to be more social. Teddy and I have spoken on it at length and he knows I have my concerns. He has no one around his age that he interacts with.”
“He’s too smart for them, they can’t keep up,” he crosses his arms over his chest, arm muscles flexing, and I need a second to gather my thoughts.
“He needs to learn to interact socially despite his intellectually driven seclusion,” I will not back down. Teddy knows he needs to have this skill for when he gets out in the world, he’s agreed already, and has started working on it. We’ve even talked about his progress in detail. I wonder why Teddy hasn’t told his brother.
Glancing at Teddy his eyes are turned down zoned in on a spot on the desk he’s sitting at. I’m about to change the subject to get Teddy engaged again, but Vince takes my musing to his advantage.
“Once he gets to college he’ll branch out, that’s when it usually happens anyhow?” in the end, it comes out as a question rather than a statement. Either he never had an issue with socializing, which with how gorgeous he is that may very well be the case; or, he’s never been to college and from the looks of him that is doubly possible.
“That may hold some truth, but it may still be a good idea to practice now," I wait for a possible rebuttal, or even a scowl, but I receive neither.
"Do you need anything from me or have any questions?” I say to fill the silence.
Again, the silent exchange happens between brothers. When it breaks and Vince stares into my eyes for several seconds that makes it feel like hours have passed, I get sucked in and consumed by him, and forget my surroundings. When he shifts his eyes back to Teddy, our moment dissipates, and I feel foolish for how lost I was in him.
“Not tonight. Thanks,” his tone is unaffected. It seems I am the only one rattled. As if on cue they stand and leave. Why do I feel like my life is a snow globe that is about to be shaken for all it’s worth?
⨳ ⨳ ⨳
Despite the numerous parent meetings I had after Vince, his was the only one that I could recall from the blur of faces. Kicking off my shoes the moment I walk in my little house, I let out a heavy sigh of relief. Tonight I don’t even bother turning on a single light until I enter my bedroom. My goal is to get into that bathtub, soak, and forget my stress riddled day. Most of all, forget my encounter with the sinful angel.
Turning on the tap, I strip off my clothing, place my glasses on the counter but leave my hair up in pins. The water is blissfully hot, and my muscles sing out hallelujah! Dealing with parents is the hardest part of my job. Expressing my opinions about their kids and they always feel like it’s a slight against them no matter what I say. Being criticized by so many different personalities, and responding accordingly to soothe them; It is completely draining. There are times I want to quit, but I’ve been through too much to not follow through with this career choice.
I sink further into the tub where I can feel the water wet the edges of my hair line. It feels good to lay here and not think. Thank God tomorrow was Saturday. Meaning, I reserve nothing on my schedule. Sometimes you need a day off to feel human again. Pajamas, eating whatever the hell I want, and binge watching Netflix are the only things on this teacher's agenda.
Sunday I will resume my class planning, grade papers, and plant my ass in front of the television for a completely different reason. I’m sure my glutes will be burning if the super energetic instructor has any say in the matter. It almost makes me want to groan in agony now to get it out of the way. Thinking of the word groan has my mind filling of Vince once more.
My nipples pucker thinking about those eyes staring at more than just my body. Jesus, I needed to get this under control. If I didn’t I was sure to have wet panties and my nipples saying hello to students. And why did that make me hot all over? It’s like my body is taking that as a challenge. I know better, but my body doesn't care.
As if falling into accordance, my fingers graze the tight peaks of my breasts and they grow impossibly tighter at the gentle provocation. Something else tightens as well and it’s much lower. This tightness is almost painful. It’s been a long time since I've serviced myself and I wish it were by choice. But since I've started this job in this very small town it's been hard to steal a second of relaxation.
My other hand meets the curls between my thighs and my breath starts to grow heavy, almost needy as it mingles in the steam of the bathroom. My heart is racing in anticipation and I put it swiftly out of its misery. I groan as I buck into my own hand needing more.
“Fuck,” I say on an inhale. My body heats impossibly hotter under the already steaming water and I feel I would faint. The pleasure rushing to my head; It should have made me pause but I couldn’t stop now. Forgetting my nipple altogether, they were so achingly hard there was no helping them anyways. My other hand aids in spreading myself wider as the other uses two fingers to rub the tight bud that is pulsing in time with my heartbeat. First it’s a leisurely stroke, but as the ache becomes most unbearable I tighten the circles. Within seconds the speed intensifies.
The sharp ache of my impending orgasm sits teetering on the edge. When my mind should be blank, all I can see is his piercing blue eyes, his smug smile, and before I have a say my orgasm crashes over me. His name shouted into the quiet of my little bathroom.
I would hang my head if I was the least bit ashamed. But I couldn’t have blamed a single woman if she were to masturbate to his handsome face. As long as I don’t actually do anything with him in the physical sense, I was staying true to myself. Plus it's not as if I could stop my subconscious from bringing him up and I suspect if I tried it would rebel even harder next time I tried to attempt my hand at masturbating.
Wrapping a towel around my body I let the water drain. Finally, I take my hair out of
its up-do, and put on a pair of shorts and tank.
With the late night bath and accompanied orgasm my muscles are loose. The bed calls to me and when my body snuggles into the mattress with sheets draped, it takes only minutes before unconsciousness takes me.
Chapter 3 - Vince
Fucking hate waiting until Monday to apologize. Actually feeling the need to apologize at all was irritating. Yet the woman has not found her fine ass out of my head since I meet her Friday. Her curves were meant to be caressed, bitten into, spanked, and nameless other things I had every intention of doing. Fuck, my dick is getting hard just thinking about it.
If I ever had a teacher as hot as her I would have found a way to stay in school all those years ago. Every spare moment in the past three days I found myself beating off to thoughts of her. Those child bearing hips in my hands. That slim waist leading up to those palm size, perfect tits. Tasting that long neck up to those kissable lips. Did I mention those mile long legs in those fuck me heels she wore? When I get her in my bed that’s all I will insist she wears, and those black rimmed glasses that sat atop the bridge of her button nose. Fuck, and those eyes that saw right through me. They had been bright, like a beautiful spring day, green as I’ve ever seen the grass be. Made me think of happier times when life wasn’t trying to always fuck me over.
But I could tell she was fighting hard against my charm and what I was sending her way. Hiding behind her scowl, and trying to avoid eye contact only made me want to try harder. To ruffle her, and take her dark auburn hair right out of that tight up-do to see it go wild. To see her wild. Fuck now I can’t hide this boner, it’s actually uncomfortable pressed tight against my jeans.
A kid looks me over with eyes bulging like he's never seen a man on a bike before. I raise my eyebrow at him, “You know Ms. Halaway?”
“Uh yeah,” he says slowing to a stop.
“Want to make five bucks?”