Schooled 4.0

by Deena Bright

  “Yes Briggs, harder,” I pant into his neck. “Feels so good, yeah, like that,” I say, encouraging him to go faster. We’re so in sync; our bodies working as one. Briggs leans his head down and flicks his tongue against my nipple, pulling it into his mouth. I bite into his shoulder as he rocks harder.

  “God Janelle, fuck,” he moans in to my ear. I feel his body jerk. His legs tense as he releases. Still pinning me beneath him, he licks my leg and rubs my foot, while coming down and recovering from his climax.

  Catching his breath, he leans down and kisses my nose, which clearly does not seem like a “sex only” gesture at all. Too cute, too intimate for “no strings attached,” I think.

  Wriggling beneath him and pushing him upward, I struggle to get him off. “So, I’ve got a plan,” I say, trying to sit up.

  Understanding my goal, he kneels back, and yanks me to sitting position. Standing, I tell him that I’ll be right back. Before, I can walk out of the room, he grabs the costume, pulling it entirely off of my body.

  “Can I keep this?” he asks. I snatch it from him and throw it across the room.

  “No, you can’t keep it, Mr. Sentimental.” I scold him. “This is purely sexual, remember?” I ask as I run back to the bathroom. When I return, I throw a blanket over me and smile when I see Briggs. He looks at home slouching on the couch, watching TV. Then I realize the problem—the major problem; he looks too at home.

  “So what’s your plan?” he asks as I sit down next to him, throwing a blanket over both of our nearly naked bodies. He pulls me closer, wrapping his arm around me.

  Removing his arm from around me, I say, “I think you do need some sort of test, a test of what you’ve learned and what you can do.” His eyes widen, flashing with desire. I punch him lightly, “Calm down, let me finish,” I say. I need to know that he isn’t hung up on me, that he isn’t developing feelings for me, because that’s just not in the grand scheme of things.

  “Alright, I’m all ears. Shoot,” he says, waiting patiently for my new proposal. I don’t want to offend him or hurt him any more than I already have. But, I need to make sure that this is “just sex” for him too. We both have to be in the same place, the same emotional state.

  After explaining my entire plan and reasoning he looks skeptical and says, “You want me to fuck your best friend?” I nod, apprehensively, waiting for his response. “No fucking way, that’s just messed up.”

  “Listen, I could say that you could just go mess around with some stranger, but how would I know if you actually did it?” I question. “If you screw Char, both of you will tell me about it. Plus, I’m sure she’d give me all the details, the pros and cons.” It seems like a perfect plan to me.

  I continue, hoping that I’m not losing him. “So, we’d know if you actually learned anything these last few weeks. It’s win-win for everyone.” He’s staring at me with questioning eyes. “Char’s hot. You’re hot. And then I’d know that we’re not getting too far into things here. Everyone wins.”

  “Are you going be there? Watching… like a threesome?” he asks, hopefully, his eyes lighting up.

  “God no! Gross,” I exclaim. “She’s my best friend; I don’t want to see that. I’ll be here, waiting to hear all about it, I guess.”

  I hadn’t thought about what I’d be doing, or where I’ll be doing it when I devised the plan. I just can’t have any more repeats of the jealous, hurt disaster that occurred out on my front lawn today. I’m not in this to hurt anyone, break anyone’s heart. I know firsthand all too well how badly it hurts being rejected and broken. I’m not about to do that to Briggs. The heart is not getting anywhere near this summer fun.

  After some deliberation, Briggs reluctantly agrees. Then, I call Char to ask if she’ll be willing to do me a huge, really huge favor. I go into the bedroom, while Briggs watches Sportscenter to explain the plan and the reasoning behind the plan.

  Laughing, she says that the plan is a way better favor than watering my plants when I go out of town. I knew she’d have no problem agreeing to sleep with Briggs for the greater good. Anything for mankind. She can do “no strings attached” with her hands tied behind her back—which from her stories is the way she likes it.

  Briggs and I fell asleep out on the couch together. We watched a replay of the interview ESPN aired on his story, the struggles and the successes. Lying together, cuddled under the blanket, we fell asleep. Waking up the next morning, I’m disappointed in myself for allowing him to spend the night again. The more time he and I spend together as a couple, the more we’ll become attached to the other. Watching him sleep, I decide that I’ll make him leave next time; this snuggling business is for couples. We aren’t a couple—will never be a couple.

  I’M ABOUT TO wake Briggs, when there’s a knock at the front door, I yell, “Just a second,” from the living room and run back to get my robe, waking Briggs in the process. I throw on my robe, hoping that it’s just Char and not Jasper and Jocelyn. My brother and sister are already getting a little suspicious of the time Briggs spends at the pool house. They aren’t dumb; they can figure shit out. I just don’t want to explain it all.

  Coming out of the bedroom, I hear Briggs talking to someone. Praying that it’s Char, I tie my robe tightly around my waist and walk into the living room, stopping dead in my tracks. Both heads turn; two sets of eyes look back at me—one set with hurt and one set with anger.

  “You’ve got company, MISS GARRITY,” Briggs states curtly, walking over to grab his pants and shirt from the crumpled mess on the floor. For the first time, I hate how he looks in those boxer briefs, so perfect, finely sculpted. Any onlooker would know that his body is just too impossible for any woman, especially me, to resist. Walking past me, Briggs says, “I’ll be gone in a minute, don’t let me interrupt.” Abruptly, he closes the bathroom door. I jump at the sound.

  “Hey Leo,” I want to crawl in a hole, “What’s up?”

  What’s up? Really Janelle? I am turning into that 14-year-old girl.

  “Nah, nothing,” Leo stammers, not making eye contact with me. “Listen, I should go… sorry to… uhhh… bother…” His voice trails off as he scans the room, looking everywhere, but into my eyes. Nervously, he fidgets until his eyes stop and widen. I follow his stare, seeing the baby costume lying mockingly on the floor.

  Damn baby costume! I need to burn that fluffy pink fucker for sure.

  “Yeah, I’m just going to go—”

  Cutting him off, I protest, “No wait, Leo stop!” He’s always walking away from me. “What… what do you need?”

  Sighing, he says, “I just thought if you weren’t doing anything, that we might, I don’t know, take your nieces up to the zoo. No big deal. It was stupid thought.” He drops his head, refusing to look at me. “It’s probably for the best. I should get some work done out back and maybe stop by the golf tournament.” Leo has the day off. For the second day in a row, he could be at his work golf outing, and he’s with me, wanting to take my nieces to the zoo. Hello Janelle?

  “Leo, oh wow, that is so—” Briggs cuts me off, walking back into the room, wrapping an arm around my waist. My eyes widen. Then I squint a glare at him. I know exactly what he’s doing.

  “Hey babe, I’ll see ya later,” he says, before kissing me roughly on the mouth, with Leo standing there staring in disbelief. I don’t kiss him back. I just stand there awkwardly and limply. “See you Leo,” he calls smugly, as he walks out the door, leaving us alone in my living room.

  Leo doesn’t say anything. He turns and walks out the door and down the path to the shed. I slump down on the loveseat, trying to figure out what the Hell just happened and how I could possibly have let it happen. The look of hurt on Leo’s face was gut-wrenching. And Briggs, the nerve of him! He can be so arrogant and bombastic, which unfortunately is part of his charm. I decide that later, when Leo calms down, I ‘ll go out and explain it all to him.

  I feel like a caged lion sitting inside, spying on Leo working in the yard. I
just don’t want him to leave without hearing an explanation first. I spend the afternoon going from room to room, peaking out the window, checking to make sure he didn’t leave or wasn’t about to leave. I even make a pitcher of sweet tea, fill two glasses with ice, and pour the tea over the ice. I squeeze in some lemon and stir the contents. Sweet tea seems like a good peace offering. I still don’t know what I feel so guilty for; I didn’t lead him on, didn’t take advantage of him, didn’t do anything. But still, I feel terribly.

  Finally, when I see him walking to the shed with his equipment, I grab the glasses of tea and meet him out on the path. “Hey Leo, I made some sweet tea,” I call, handing him the glass.

  Skeptically, he looks at me, taking the glass, “Thanks Miss Garrity,” he says. Back to Miss Garrity? I can’t keep any of this straight anymore. I don’t know who the Hell I am or who I’m supposed to be. Miss Garrity? Mrs. Flowers? Janelle? Whore Extraordinaire! That seems like it’s got a nice ring to it.

  Leo downs the iced tea in two large gulps, and hands me the empty glass. “It was good, thanks,” he says, politely, as he brushes past me, entering the shed.

  “Wait up,” I yell, following him into the shed. “Can we talk? I’d like to explain—”

  “I really can’t. I have to get going,” he says brusquely, walking out the door and down the path before I can catch up with him.

  “That’s just great Leo,” I yell after him. “Walk away! You’re getting good at that. Always walking away.”

  He stops, turning around slowly and menacingly, “Are you kidding me? I walk away?” He keeps walking closer to me, not taking his eyes off of mine. “What? What do you want me to say?”

  I have no idea.

  But yes… I do know. Fuck it.

  “The truth Leo, whatever that may be. Stop walking away. Man up.” I probably shouldn’t have thrown in the “man up,” because he looks like I just slapped him across the face. The hurt is evident in his eyes.

  “The truth?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “You… you… of all people are going to tell me that I should be honest? Whatever.” He glares at me and turns away in disgust.

  He’s right. I haven’t been honest with him. Just yesterday, I told him that Briggs was doing something for Garrity Advertising. “Okay Leo,” I cave. “You’re right. I haven’t been truthful,” I yell, so he can still hear me. He slows, but doesn’t stop or turn around.

  I catch up with him and circle around to face him. “You want the truth, fine,” I relent, throwing my arms up. “The night I walked in on Marcus and Lauren, I went to some bar and saw Briggs there.” Leo doesn’t move, doesn’t take his gaze from me. He’s waiting, waiting for more—more knowledge that he doesn’t really want. “Alright, since then… we’ve… I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

  Stopping me, he says, “Miss Garrity, you don’t owe me an explanation. You’re a grown woman. Do whatever… or whomever… you want.” He moves to walk around me. I block his path.

  “That’s it? That’s all you want to say—nothing else?” I challenge.

  “What’s to say?” he asks, looking defeated. “It’s Briggs, Briggs Fucking Alexander; there’s no point.” He shrugs.

  “No point in what?” I need more than that.

  Rolling his eyes, letting out his breath, he finally admits, “Competing, I’m not even going to try.” He gets around me, passing me quickly. “See you around, Miss Garrity.”

  Catching up to him, blocking his exit once again, I corner him and challenge, “Competing for what Leo? Tell me… just say it.” I can’t understand why he just won’t lay it all out on the line.

  Shaking his head at me and furling his brow, he says, “Nah, I’m good. It’s not worth it anyway.” Ouch. Holy dagger to the heart and bomb to the ego.

  I step back, feeling the strike of the words “not worth it” against my self-esteem. Against my heart. I let him go, watch him walk away. Leo Cling just told me that I wasn’t “worth it.” The truth floods through me. I’m not worth it. Marcus knows it. I guess I’ve always known it too. But now, I just had one of my most intelligent students confirm it. I’m just not worth it. I feel weak, sick to my stomach. I lumber into the pool house and collapse on the couch, sobbing uncontrollably. I cry into the pillow until my head aches and my eyes burn, until my throat feels scratchy and my energy diminishes. Then, I cry even more, falling into a heavy, sound sleep.

  WHEN I FINALLY wake up, it’s dark outside. I’m drained, groggy, and sore. I fill the bathtub, pour a glass of wine, grab a new book, and slip into the tub. The pressure from the jets are therapeutic on my neck and back. I let the stress of the day’s events stream out of me. Sipping the wine, I decide that Leo’s right in many ways, but he has no right to speak to me as such. Leo may have this image of me that didn’t quite add up, but that doesn’t mean that I’m unworthy. The next time I see him, he’ll know exactly how I feel.

  After I finish my bath and dry my hair, I pull on a bra, a thong, old flannel pajama bottoms and a hoodie. Even though the evening temperature is still in the mid-80s, I’ve got a chill to me. Maybe it’s the cold shoulder, but I can’t seem to get warm enough. I pour another glass of wine and check my phone. I missed a few calls from Char and one from Briggs. I’ll call them both back tomorrow. I just want to drink my wine, read a book, and wallow in self-pity.

  As I’m rinsing out the glass of wine, there’s a faint, hesitant knock at the door. I knew Briggs would drop by sometime soon, but I’m not really in the mood. I wait, weighing my options. I don’t want a night of nonstop sex and acrobatics, nor do I want to “talk” about things. I want to sleep, to rest, and to forget this day. But if I don’t answer it, he’ll get all offended and needy the next time I see him. I’m not too interested in dealing with that either. This “dating around” business is grueling work. There’s another knock, louder and more insistent this time.

  “I’m coming, hold on,” I yell, walking to the door, relieved that I actually did put a bra on earlier. I’m starting to believe that this place is open all hours, ready for visitors 24-hours a day. Expecting to see Char or Briggs, since I hadn’t called either of them back, I open the door, shocked as shit to see Leo standing on my porch, winded and disheveled.

  I start o talk, but he cuts me off, holding up his finger at me, indicating that I wait. “Don’t say anything,” he orders. I move back, motioning for him to come in. He walks past me and turns to look at me. “You are so worth it, more worth it than anyone else in this world.” He closes the space between us. “If Briggs wants a fight, then he’s got it, because I can’t just walk away without trying,” he declares. He stands there staring at me, anticipating my next move or words.

  Surprising us both, I ask, “Competition for what? What is it that you think you want—think you can compete for?”

  He lowers his head; his shoulders slump, “Why do you do this? You know what I want.”

  “Leo, you have so much, everything a woman wants,” I explain. “But if you don’t have the confidence, the guts to go get it, to take it when you want it, then you’ll never get it… And I think we both know exactly what you want.”

  Leo takes two steps, pressing his body against me, and wraps his arms around me. “You Janelle, I want you.” He stands still, holding me, staring into my eyes, and searching my face for my response.

  “Then take me Leo, take me right now,” I plead, my voice catching with each word.

  His sigh of relief is gratifying. Thank God this man wants me. His rejection earlier was shattering to say the least. It’s remarkable to know that I’m worth it, worth the fight. He bends in to kiss me, pauses momentarily and says, “It’s always been you.” Then, he kisses me. His kiss is tender, soft, and so intimate. For a moment, I just lose myself in the kiss, feeling our bodies touching, our lips meeting, and our tongues mingling. I can taste his want, his desire, and feel his heart pound against my chest.

  Leo pulls away from me, breaking our kiss, and looks at me with su
ch awe and fascination, my knees weaken. My breath catches when he takes my hand and says, “I want you; I want to make love to you in your bed.” I nod, leading the way to my room. When we get to my bedroom, he stops and pulls me back to look at him. Leo lifts my hand to his lips and kisses the back of my hand. Then, he opens my hand, kissing my palm. I watch in amazement as this man, this shy, awkward man, begins his soft, sensual seduction.

  Dropping my hand, he places his hands on the waistband of my hoodie and waits for my consent. I grabs his hands and explain, “It’s whatever you want. Take whatever you desire; this is your night to explore and experiment.” His throat growls as he presses against me and kisses me with an urgency and a hunger. My lips welcome the assault, allowing him free access to every part of me.

  “Anything?” he questions again.

  “Anything,” I confirm. His hands are back on the waistband of my hoodie. He slowly begins pulling it up, watching as every inch of my flesh comes into view. His eyes widen and then hood when the lace of my bra peeks out under the material of the sweatshirt. Leo’s eyes close and open slowly when my breasts come into view. Then with one final swoop, the sweatshirt’s off, and I stand before Leo Cling, my former nerdy student, in nothing but my PJ bottoms, underwear, and bra.

  “Will you take them off?” he asks. “I want watch, please.”

  Standing back, he takes off his own shirt. His upper body and arm muscles are defined, so strong and firm. His abs are hard and edged. The sexy “V” at his waist is more prominent than I’ve ever seen on any man before—even in magazines. His shorts hang loosely on his hips. Clearly, the female population is out of their minds to pass up this man.