The Final Lesson Plan

by Bright, Deena

  —Ms. Garrity is rightfully permitted to reject a participant from any and all sexual activity. (You can tell Briggs, "No," the entire month if you want.)

  —Ms. Garrity is permitted to seduce the participants if she is unsatisfied with the amount of activity that is transpiring.

  3. A "date" with Ms. Garrity cannot exceed a 15-hour time span.

  4. All public "dates" and "outings" must take place outside a 60-mile radius from Ms. Garrity's school district as not to further tarnish or besmirch her reputation.

  —Dates can take place in Ms. Garrity's pool house.

  —Dates can take place in Briggs' apartment. (His apartment is a college boy's dream pad. He's so juvenile.)

  —Dates can take place at Leo's house.

  5. Both participants have agreed to share Ms. Garrity on the Fourth of July. Ms. Garrity will spend the afternoon of the Fourth with Leo and the evening of the Fourth with Briggs.

  6. Ms. Garrity may void the contract at any time throughout the month if she deems it necessary. (And kick Briggs to the curb and run away with me.)

  7. Ms. Garrity has the final say of the contact. She may add, omit, or edit any aspect of the contract.

  __________________________

  Janelle Lynn Garrity

  ___________________________

  Briggs Alexander (participant)

  ___________________________

  Leo Cling (participant)

  The contract was so Leo, formal and professional, sprinkled with humor and wit. Damn, I could use a little Leo-loving about now. I read through the rest of the dates and times that I was "scheduled" to be with each of them and could feel myself start to heat up. This was really going to happen, and I couldn't be happier or more than willing to participate.

  I noticed their signatures at the bottom. "Alright, you two, do you both really agree to these terms?" I asked, before signing my name. As I dotted the i on "Garrity," I felt arms surround my waist. I knew immediately that it was Briggs; I could tell his scent anywhere.

  "But wait, what do we do with this contact now?" I asked.

  "Who cares? Give it to him; he'll do some shit with it," Briggs said. Nuzzling, my neck and with a throaty groan, he said, "Cling, don't let the door hit ya in the ass; you're job here is done."

  Leo walked to the front of me; it was strangely exciting to have Briggs nibbling my ear while I was staring directly into Leo's eyes. When in the world did I become so sexually insatiable? Grimacing, Leo said, "I'd at least like to say goodbye to you...privately." Leo reached for my hand, but Briggs batted it out of the way.

  "Contract. Talk to her all you want tomorrow. She's off limits today," Briggs said, pissing me off and making me feel like his merchandise.

  "Whoa…whoa…hold on a damn second," I said, pulling free from Briggs' embrace. "I can speak for myself Briggs Alexander! Don't even begin to think about me as your 'property.' I'm not someone or something you can control…or worse yet, own," I said, as my temperature began to rise. "Leo is a guest in this house, my house, and I will say goodbye to my guest."

  Briggs dropped his head, nodding his assent. "You're right. My bad," he apologized, averting his eyes from mine.

  "Now, go clean up the kitchen while I walk Leo out," I commanded spitefully, loving when the bitch inside of me reared her ugly head.

  "I'll help him...I ate too," Leo said, looking pitifully remorseful.

  "No…you've been here long enough," I argued. "Come on…I'll walk you out. He can do it all by himself."

  Saying "goodbye" to Leo was a little painful, not because I wanted him to stay and Briggs to leave. I was quite happy with the day's arrangement. I just hated seeing the look on Leo's face when he got into his car. He looked at the pool house like it was a demon that was going to ruin his life. Leaning in, I kissed him goodbye, and I told him that I was looking forward to seeing him the next day. Leo just dropped his head and nodded.

  "Leo, you're okay with this, right?" I asked, wondering if he was lying to me, or worse, lying to himself.

  Shrugging and still looking at the pool house, he said, "If I were starving and there was only one piece of bread, I would rather eat half of it, then not get any of it." He never looked back at me as he started his car and drove off. I watched as his car sped down the road and wondered if even I could handle this. I'd never attempted anything this risqué or scandalous in my life. I knew many people who "dated around" and even "slept around," but did I have the chutzpah and heart to juggle two men, two completely wonderful and perfect men, at once?

  Walking in to the pool house, I started thinking about Marcus and Lauren. I hated that he fucked her and fucked me for so long (as well as so many other skanky whores). But if I was being honest with myself, the hardest person to be honest with, wasn't I just as wrong for stringing both of these guys along? Granted Briggs and Leo both claimed to be on board and completely "okay" with this arrangement, but were any of us really "okay" with this plan? I wanted to be carefree and nonchalant about this situation; I wanted to just enjoy my summer and my men. I had the perfect setup, but something in my gut was screaming that nothing is ever perfect, but is flawed and tarnished if you look closely enough.

  I opened the door to the pool house, and the kitchen was immaculate. Briggs was leaning over the kitchen table, Clorox-wiping the syrup from where I sat and ate my waffles. His muscles flexed as he stretched further over the table, and his ass tightened as he did so. I looked closely and nothing, not a goddamn thing, looked flawed or tarnished. I felt things twitch. Man, I loved when things twitched; it truly meant that my femininity was dying to be touched, titillated, tongued, and fondled. And Holy Godiva, it was.

  Unlike most people, I could vividly, without a shadow of a doubt, remember when I felt that first tingle, that first twitch. Jocelyn was in college, and I was younger, a sophomore in high school. My sister had her boyfriend over one night to watch television. My parents were out of town for my dad's high school reunion. I'd heard moaning coming from the living room. (Before you get all grossed out, I didn't walk in on Jocelyn having sex, watch her do it, and like it. Oh for God's sake, get your head out of the incestuous gutter.)

  Anyway, I crept into the living room and saw Jocelyn and her boyfriend watching porn. To be 100% honest, it was Cinemax, just a little soft porn for the gentle-hearted porn addict. To this day, it cracks me up; I teased her about it all the time. Joz and her boyfriend were truly just watching the skin flick. Jocelyn was sitting on the loveseat; Deck was sitting in the recliner with a blanket over his lap. She was laughing and making comments, obviously not getting into the action at all. At the time, I didn't realize that Deck was probably whacking himself into oblivion. Actually, it wasn't until years later when Jocelyn and I recounted this story to Rick and Marcus one drunken night that Marc and Rick pointed out what now seemed so obvious. Deck yanked his tank while watching porn with his high school girlfriend sitting across the room from him.

  As I stood there watching snippets of the man on the television screen pleasuring a beautiful blonde woman with his mouth, for the first time ever in my life, I felt my female parts awaken. I do consider it my first lady boner. My stuff twitched, tingled a bit, and I knew then exactly what it meant to get excited and yes, I'll say it, feel "horny." I went back to my bedroom, replaying the scene over and over again in my head. Truthfully, the images wouldn't stop; I allowed my hands to explore and caress parts of my body that they hadn't ventured ever before. And wouldn't you know it? I learned first-hand (yes the pun was intended) what a bona fide, real deal, toe-curling orgasm was.

  Looking at Briggs, watching him bend over my table, flexing those muscles brought all sorts of images to my mind, clear, vivid, and extremely hot images. I was once again reminded of my little lady boner. I wanted this man; I was not going to deny myself such carnal and immediate euphoria. Why would I? Briggs was in my kitchen, ready, willing, and so incredibly hot. I cleared my throat, alerting him to my arrival.

  "I knew you we
re there; I can see your reflection in the refrigerator," he said, continuing to scrub the table. Damn, that must be the cleanest that table has ever been. Laughing, he added, "You looked so captivated, I figured I wouldn't stop." He stood up slowly and turned around, smirking confidently. "Why Miss Garrity, do you like what you see?"

  Oh Hell, he had me, my mouth dried up, and I licked my lips, nodding my approval.

  "Didn't you just eat Janelle? Why do you suddenly look so hungry?" he said, teasingly, walking toward me. "Is there something more you're hungry—"

  Briggs never finished his tempting and teasing little seduction; I leapt into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist, careful to not bump or hurt his hand. "Briggs shut the fuck up and fuck me like the dirty little whore that I am," I berated, kissing him hungrily. As he started walking toward the couch, I pulled my lips from his, "No, not on the couch…on that very clean kitchen table," I said, biting his ear and sucking his earlobe. Briggs was a fast-learner and didn't need to be told twice. He laid me down on the table and…

  (Well readers, this is where the SMUTLESS comes into play. You all read enough. Use those very vivid and dirty little imaginations you have so recently gained in all the erotica that you've been devouring lately. Because this book, Smutless Schooled Two, is not an erotica book. So, go ahead and make the themed porno movie music right now, because sexy things are happening on that table in Janelle's cute little pool house. Oh wait, excuse me, my bad…it looks like it is moving to the kitchen chair as well. Nice move Briggs! Real smooth Briggs, not to mention extremely sexy. Give them a little privacy; Briggs has a few new tricks up his sleeve. Well to be honest, these tricks are down his pants. Leave them be for a bit.)

  Lying under the kitchen table with my head on Briggs' chest, I felt at peace, comfortable, and at home. "Briggs, tell me about your first time," I said, running my fingernail along this smooth, hard chest, relishing in the beauty of his skin.

  "First time for what?" he asked sleepily, as he absently curled a strand of my hair around his finger.

  "The first time you played football." He looked at me with confusion. "You ass, the first time you had sex…duh," I responded, pounding his chest in mock exasperation.

  "It was nothing like this; I'll tell you that right now," he said, kissing the top of my head.

  "But what was it like?"

  "I don't know…like…like…sex," he said.

  Realizing I wasn't getting anywhere, but still wanting more knowledge, I changed the question. "Alright, who was it with? Where were you?" I asked, probing him more for answers.

  "I don't know; how am I supposed to know that?" he asked, as he rolled onto his side to face me.

  "You don't know who the first person you had sex with was?" I asked, incredulously.

  "Not really," he said. "I mean, I'd fooled around with a lot of chicks in middle school and ninth grade, but I'm not sure which one actually let me tap it the first time."

  I got the feeling that I was not going to like the way the rest of this interrogation was going to go, but yet I couldn't stop myself from going there. I knew that ignorance was bliss, but after Marcus, I was done being in the dark about anything. I wanted light shed on everything that I couldn't see, even if it meant knowing the agonizing truth. Ignorance was bliss, but knowledge was power.

  "Briggs…ummm…how many girls have you 'tapped' as you so eloquently put it?" I asked, closing my eyes as I waited for the number.

  "Fuck if I know," he said.

  Crawling out from under the table to find my shirt, I said, "Uh…you're gonna need to do a little better than that."

  "Whattya mean? I have no clue. What about you?" he asked.

  "Me?" I asked, leaving my bra on the floor as I slipped my shirt on over my head. I suddenly felt entirely too exposed, too vulnerable. "Let's see....oh yeah...FOUR!"

  "So six, counting Cling and me," he said, snidely.

  "No Briggs…four…and that does count both of you."

  "Bullshit! You're telling me that all those years at Ohio State…while you were in a sorority…that you didn't sleep around?"

  "Yes Briggs, that's what I'm telling you. I fooled around and did some stuff, but only Marcus got to 'tap' this," I responded angrily and sardonically. "And before that…my high school boyfriend."

  I couldn't be in the same room with him; the pool house suddenly seemed very small. I walked out to the back patio and attempted to slam the sliding glass door. Sliding glass doors don't really slam, and you tend to look like an asshole when you try to slam them. The door bounced right back open just as Briggs approached the door, making it seem like it opened just to let him out. Looking at the door, then at me, he smirked, raised his hands in triumph, and said, "Yeah, that's what I thought."

  I turned away, so he couldn't see my smile. It was hard to be mad at him. Usually I loathed cockiness and such blatant arrogance, but with Briggs, it was charming and essentially irresistible. "Briggs…I…" Truthfully, I really wasn't sure what I wanted to say.

  "Janelle, you don't want the number," he said as he turned me around to look at him. "You also don't want to know that I probably know more names of NASCAR drivers, which I don't follow at all, than I do of all the girls I've slept with." I dropped my head, not wanting to look at him while he told me these details.

  "Briggs, I don't know if I can—"

  "Stop," he said, covering my lips with his finger. "I know that this is not what you were hoping for, but it's who I was." Pulling me toward him, he said, "Was…but I'm not that guy any more. I haven't been that guy for exactly one month and two days."

  "I know you've only been with me lately, but—"

  "No Janelle, it's not just that," he said as he sat down on the chaise. He pulled me down onto the chair and snuggled me back against him as his legs enveloped me, holding me tightly into place. With his breath in my hair, he whispered, "I'm not going back either, Janelle. If I lose this, lose you, I don't wanna be that guy any more. You taught me what something real feels like."

  I didn't know how to respond; this profession of his feelings reminded me that this wasn't a game. This wasn't "just for fun." Someone was going to get hurt. I hated that I was going to be the source of someone's pain. I thrived on making people happy, not destroying them. I was usually the one who got destroyed.

  Briggs continued, "Janelle, if I could grab a DeLorean, pull a McFly, and go back in time, I'd wait…Oh God, I'd wait…I wouldn't touch one single girl until you came along." He trailed his fingers up and down my bare arms, giving me chills on a scorching hot summer day. "People always say that such and such or so and so didn't matter, and I never understood what that meant. I used to believe all things, all people, mattered," he admitted.

  Briggs started kissing my neck, giving my chills chills. Not wearing a bra wasn't helping the goose bumps that were beginning to overtake my entire body. Then softly he whispered in my ear with his scratchy, sultry voice, "All that matters to me anymore…is you."

  Briggs and I spent the afternoon out on the patio, talking and really getting to know one another beyond the bedroom. I hadn't realized how little I knew about him, the man. There was a part of me who still couldn't separate him from the bombastic and charming football player who wouldn't do a lick of work to the college-educated, career-driven man who centered his life around his future ESPN career. Oh…and who loved to lick his way through any type of work or situation. It was true; I was indisputably the luckiest and most fulfilled woman on the planet.

  Briggs admitted to having some problems with his younger brother, Tate. Tate was only a sophomore, but was proving to be better in sports than Briggs ever was. However, Tate was choosing some seriously wrong paths in life. Neither Briggs, nor his parents, could seem to get through to him. I knew of Tate, but I'd never had him in class or any of the study mods I monitored. Rumor around school was he was a punk-ass, druggie thug. Teachers complained at length about him, wishing that Tate was in anyone else's class but theirs.

 
Honestly, I remembered a time when I'd wished Briggs weren't in my class either, but I hadn't really known him at all. It was one of those things that I saw his name on the roster at the beginning of the year and groaned even at the thought of having to deal with an athletic megalomaniac. I'd known that since Briggs was the hot-shot Buckeye-bound running back that I was going to have to work extra hard, overtime and then some, just to get him to that stage on graduation day. Briggs wanted to do everything, as long as it didn't involve schoolwork or homework.

  After his surfing accident and Ohio State athletics were no longer part of Briggs' future, he'd shut down a lot. The cocky, self-assured Briggs Alexander turned mopey, sulky, and oftentimes belligerent, but never to me. He'd never treated me disrespectfully, but I'd heard his name spat with contempt on a number of occasions. However, with Briggs, he was just downright adorable. He could charm the pants off of anyone, me included…obviously.

  Tate didn't have that "Je n'ai sais quoi" that Briggs had. Ultimately, he was just as cocky, maybe even more so than Briggs. Likeable, he was not. He used the "Briggs' little brother" to his advantage, but saw to it that nobody compared or equated him to Briggs. Tate was making a name for himself, one that didn't include him hiding in his older brother's shadow. He was doing his damnedest to ensure that his name, his talents, his reputation extinguished his brother's shining star, while blemishing the "Alexander name" in the process.

  I felt guilty, because I didn't admit to Briggs what I knew, or had heard about Tate around school from other staff members and from my students. When seniors talked and took the time to gossip about the antics of a sophomore guy, then typically the material being stated was never complimentary or flattering. I basically just let Briggs rant about his brother, but endearingly beneath his rage, I could tell that Briggs was genuinely worried about his brother's future and choices.