Schooled 4.0

by Deena Bright

  “Tate, are you fucking serious?” I asked, not knowing the kid in front of me. What happened to that little kid that I used to play football with, the one who looked up to me, drew pictures of me? “If you need money, then you know—”

  “I know; I know. Just ask big brother Briggs,” he said. “He’ll take care of it. He’s so great. He’ll fix it all. Well fuck that shit.”

  “What the Hell is that supposed to me?” I asked, walking toward him.

  Then, Janelle came between us and said, “Briggs, will you please wait for me in the car. Tate, sit down on the couch.” Janelle placed her hand on my chest, her eyes pleading with me. “Please. Both of you… please!” I looked at Janelle, then at Tate. He shrugged and slumped down on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table, kicking his scale and pipe as he did so.

  “Janelle, I don’t think—”

  “Doesn’t matter… go!” she instructed, pointing toward the door.

  After 30 minutes of Janelle being alone in my house with Tate, I started to get worried when I saw the door open. They both came out with smiles on their faces. Tate hugged Janelle. Then, she waved at him as she started back down the steps toward me. Tate watched her leave, staring at her every move. I wanted to walk right up there and pummel his face, but knew that she’d be pissed if I did.

  “What’d you say to him?” I asked, following her back to the car.

  “Not much. We just talked,” she said, getting in and buckling her seatbelt. “He’s a good kid.”

  Tate Alexander was not a good kid. Everyone knew that. I knew that. My parents knew that; every teacher in the school knew that. When I told her so, Janelle smiled sadly at me, nodded, and said, “I think that’s the problem, Briggs.”

  Man, was she good. Janelle Garrity was a bleeding-heart teacher through and through. If anyone could get through to Tate, it would be her. “So…? Are you really not going to tell me anything that went on in there?” I asked, probing her for answers.

  “There’s nothing really to tell. He’s a lost teenage boy, who’s very jealous of his superstar brother,” she said, looking at me intently. “This one’s a piece of cake—nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Janelle, I—”

  “It’s fine Briggs. We’ve all got our shit,” she said, grabbing my hand. “Tate is going to be okay. I can guarantee that.” I squeezed her hand and kissed it. She was extraordinary. Here, I just wanted to beat the thug right out of him. Janelle planned on loving the thug out of him. We’d make a perfect pair. We fit together perfectly.

  “WELL, WE’VE BEEN driving down 71 South for a while now,” she said, scooting closer to me. She smelled un-fucking-believable. “Are we going to Columbus?”

  “You’ll see,” I said, putting my arm around her, holding her closer to me. I never understood why guys want SUVs. They’re probably making up for small things in other places. I’m just saying, you never see black guys with SUVs. Our cars don’t need to be huge machines. We’ve got huge machines in other places. Plus, with a big SUV, you can’t hold your lady close while you drive. Couldn’t touch her; rub your hands up and down her bare arms.

  Shit.

  Getting hard again.

  I used to have a whole fucking lot of self-control. But with Janelle, she turned me into a pussy.

  As we pulled own Lane Avenue and passed a local bar, Janelle was on the edge of her seat, pointing things out to me. “Oh my God, I almost got arrested right there, but Char persuaded the cop to let us go,” she said, explaining how she got busted for underage drinking in the parking lot of the stadium. I didn’t ask what Char’s method of persuasion was. I’d been around Char enough to figure that one out on my own.

  When we entered the parking lot of the Woody Hayes Center, , Janelle looked at me incredulously, and said, “This really isn’t open to the public, Briggs.” The Buckeye football team practiced indoors at the Woody Hayes Center, and it was pretty much a sports shrine to all OSU football players.

  “Let’s just say, I have some connections,” I said, before walking around to open the door for her. I do that shit. My mama would bitch-slap me if I didn’t open doors and shit like that for chicks… for girls. She’d slap me for calling girls, “chicks” too.

  I showed Janelle all around the Woody Hayes Center. She was as impressed with me and my connections as she was with the entire place. I felt like King of the World—or just of Columbus. Then after the tour, I said, “Okay Babe, let’s get sweaty.”

  Looking around and giggling, she said, “Here? Now?”

  Laughing, I said, “I love how you think, Nelle, but we’re working out… like legit.”

  “What? We came to Columbus to exercise?” she asked, her face full of shocked disgust and disappointment.

  “Well, it’s like this, one of the best dates we’ve had yet, started with yoga, because ‘you said so.’ This time, I say so,” I argued, pulling her close to me, looking into her green eyes. I knew that women loved my eyes. I could pretty much get what I wanted from a woman with my eyes. But Janelle had no idea how sexy and tempting her green eyes were.

  “But we’ll get all gross,” she whined.

  “Nothing those showers can’t cure… those big, empty showers,” I said, raising my eyebrows, then winking at her.

  I’ve got to say—it was the worst, mother-fucking, most awful workout I’ve ever done. Usually when I work those machines and push my body to the limit, I feel great the entire time. This was the worst plan I’d ever had. It was hard to do the leg machines, sit-up incline, and abs machines with a fucking woody the whole time. Watching Janelle’s leg muscles as she spread her legs, pushing the machines in and out, caused so much pain and strain between my legs, I could’ve done her right there in the workout facility, not caring who the fuck watched. Then, when she laid down, using her arms and chest to lift the weights, her tits looked so God damn perky and hot. I physically could not take one more torturous second.

  “Let’s go; we need to shower,” I commanded.

  “I need to do one more rep, or I’m going to be uneven,” she countered.

  “You’re fine,” I said, throwing her entire body over my shoulder as I carried her to the showers, while she squealed and beat on my back.

  Looking around and double-checking that nobody was around, I started the water. I stripped out of my clothes faster than I’ve ever undressed before. I grabbed a condom out of my wallet and put it on quicker than I’ve ever coated up my cock before. (By the way, you can wear condoms in showers and pools. Googled the fuck out of that shit before.)

  Then, I pulled her into the water, fully clothed, peeling each layer of her dripping wet clothes off, slowly, enjoying the unwrapping of the sexiest woman I’d ever seen.

  Janelle kept trying to not get her hair wet, but I couldn’t stop myself from pushing her back into the water. Fuck, the look of the water streaming down her face and body, dripping tantalizingly over her shoulders and chest, just begging to be licked, made me strain in agony. I had to have her right then. I lifted her up as she wrapped her legs around my waist. I pinned her against the wall. I knew we didn’t have a lot of time before we needed to leave, but quite frankly, I didn’t need much time. I’d wanted her since the second she got into my car.

  Knowing I’d get her even hotter, I whispered in her ear, “You’re so fucking hot. Do you know how many men wish they were me right now?”

  “Oh God Briggs, does… does… the whole team shower in here,” she asked between breathy pants.

  Confused, I just nodded and bent my knees, so she could sink further into me.

  “Mmm,” she moaned, “so… every single one of them gets naked in here and showers after practices?”

  Understanding, I thrust into her even more, “Yes they do, baby,” I whispered in her ear as her nails dug into my back, sending pain and pleasure right to my dick. “Every one of them.”

  “Who Briggs? Name them!” she cried, desperately and savagely.

  Holding her agains
t the wall with her soaking wet tits pressed against my chest, I pounded into her. With each trust, I growled a name of a player as she screamed my name, only my name, louder and louder. It was fucking incredible. She was on fire. Not only had she taught me everything I knew, but she also unleashed a goddess within herself. A gorgeous, sexually-charged goddess.

  I knew her and her body. I understood how her body and mind worked and, thank God, I knew what it needed. Janelle was becoming an extension of me; if she wasn’t ready and turned on, then I wasn’t ready. My pleasure relied on her pleasure. I’d never known before how God damn incredible it was to watch a woman climax, to feel her body give totally into her own pleasure. But I did now, and I was certainly never going back.

  IT WAS TOUGH convincing Janelle that she looked good enough to go out. Sometimes, I forgot how girly this woman could be. She was paranoid, believing that since she didn’t have more makeup, a blow dryer, and some straight thing for her hair that she couldn’t go out. She was wrong. Janelle did some braid shit to hair, wiped the smeared makeup off with a paper towel, and put on the sexy dress she brought, and she was smoking hot. Real smoking hot. Janelle knew she was good-looking and sexy. She was confident enough to know that, but what she didn’t know was that she didn’t have to try, didn’t have to work at it—at all. The woman didn’t have to do a damn thing to herself. I liked that.

  Janelle refused to go to one of the upscale restaurants I suggested in German Village. She was set on a sub shop on campus. “Briggs, you’ve never had the hot turkey sub there?”

  “I’ve never even heard of it,” I argued. “Don’t you want wine and steak?”

  “No! Hot. Turkey. Sub,” she stated with finality. “I swore that the next time I was in Columbus, I was getting one.”

  We got takeout from the sub shop. Janelle and I ate subs and drank pop on the rundown, outdoor deck of the sub shop. She was 100% right. The sandwich was incredible. I couldn’t believe I’d never tried it before—or heard of it.

  “Briggs, can I ask you something?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you… ummm… think I’m slutty for what we did back there?” she asked, her face full of shame and remorse.

  “Uhhh, fuck no! I think you’re hot as shit.”

  “But, what you were saying… what we did… how we did it… don’t you think that—”

  “Janelle, stop! All I think is that I’m the luckiest guy in the world. I’m lucky that I found a woman who’s in charge of her own life and defining her sexuality by her own terms—getting exactly what she wants and how she wants it.”

  Janelle started laughing her ass off. Pop came out her nose, spraying it everywhere—all over her sandwich and chips. “What the fuck? What’s so damn funny?” I asked.

  “You! You’re smart. You’re smart and articulate, and sometimes, it shocks me. I’m sorry, but it does. I thought for sure that you were going to stop at ‘you’re hot as shit,’ but you kept going and… and… and just made me want you all over again.” Janelle wiped her face with her napkin and continued, “You never cease to amaze me, Briggs Alexander.”

  We weren’t there much longer when a group of college kids came up, asking for my autograph. I ain’t going to lie; I eat that shit up. But, I didn’t want it to take away from my time with Janelle. I signed a few t-shirts and a notebook. Then when some sexy little number asked me to take a picture with her, I just shook my head and went back to the table.

  “Briggs, you could’ve taken your picture with her,” Janelle said when I got back to the table. “I know that you’re the king shit around here. I wouldn’t have been mad.”

  “Nah, no need. She’d just post it all over Twitter and Instagram, and the rumors would start flying all over again,” I explained, as I grabbed our empty cups to go back in and get refills on our drinks.

  When I got back to the table, Janelle was staring off, obviously thinking pretty deeply about some shit. “What are you thinking about, now?” I asked, putting our full cups down and grabbing the second half of my new favorite sandwich. God, this shit was good.

  “You’re a celebrity around here. You need to play the game, Briggs,” she said. “You can’t let me stop you from furthering your name.” I started to interrupt her, but she cut me back off. “I’m serious. Briggs Alexander the ESPN star and Briggs Alexander the guy I’m dating are two different people. You have to play the part.”

  Janelle was being serious. She was incredible. Most women would’ve been jealous and territorial. Janelle could separate my professional life and personal life—even though it directly affected her.

  I wanted to take Janelle to my favorite bar on campus, turned out it was her favorite bar when she lived on campus too. I liked the bar, because there wasn’t a lot of loud music and drunk-ass losers falling all over the place. Usually, there was a DJ playing quiet alternative rock. You could sit and drink outside or sit inside. They had a few pool tables and a lot of open seating.

  Janelle said that she and Char liked it, because the bartenders always gave them free drinks. Fuck, I bet she ain’t never paid jackshit for a drink. She and Char together were dangerous. Thinking about those two in college still shocked me that she’d only slept with four people. If I would’ve known her in college, I would’ve died trying to get into her pants.

  After a few beers, I started feeling pretty good, pretty confident. I told Janelle that I had something for her in the car and that I’d be right back. I ran out to the car and got my guitar out of the trunk. I hadn’t played in a long time, but lately, I’d been wanting to start back up. I’m telling you, she was turning into me into a Nancy. I walked to the DJ stand and asked if I could have a microphone. He looked at me like I was fucking nuts, but then the manager came running over and told him that I could have whatever I wanted. Man, ESPN is the shit. A dude could get used to this.

  Taking the microphone, I tapped it a few times until everyone was looking at me. Then some drunk dude yelled, “Hey that’s Briggs Alexandria.” Janelle looked up at me with a questioning look.

  Some other guy corrected him and said, “It’s Alexander, you asshole.”

  I cleared my throat and said, “Hey dudes, I’m going to play this guitar and sing a little something here tonight.” The crowd went crazy. Janelle’s eyes widened. “I wanted to play something special for someone special here tonight.” Everyone started looking around, looking for whomever I was talking about. “Janelle Garrity, give them a wave.” She looked mortified, but proud at the same time. Janelle gave the audience a modest and embarrassed shake of the hand.

  Now, I just needed to be able to pull this off. I’d never really sung and played for an audience before. I knew I needed to get them on my side, cheering for me, before I even started. Otherwise, I’d crash and burn like Goose and Maverick.

  “I went through her car and I-pod looking for music that she liked, but holy shit. Do you know what this girl has in her car and on her I-pod?” I asked, waiting for someone to respond.

  “What?” came the crowd, totally shocking me. I wasn’t even sure anyone would actually answer. Shit, I could eat this crap up.

  “Air Supply,” I stated. The crowd roared with laughter. Some people looked at each other, not knowing who the fuck I was talking about, as they shouldn’t. Fucking Air Supply was around in the early damn 80s.

  “I’d never heard of them, this Air Supply, so I went home and YouTubed them,” I admitted, shaking my head. “You know what I found? They all fucking look like Richard Simmons and sing the saddest shit,” I said, making more people laugh. I had to admit. I could get into this attention.

  “So after I listened to the entire album a few times… Yes… a few times. Hey don’t judge. They really get you,” I said, pounding on my chest, indicating my heart.

  I winked at Janelle, and the girls in the crowd all groaned, making me smile. Holy fuck, this was such a high. “Anyway, I decided against Air Supply, thinking I’d like to keep my dick in place, and went with this song i
nstead.” I turned my head only to Janelle and said, “It was the only one on your entire I-pod that I recognized… This girl needs a music makeover,” I joked. The crowd roared names of bands and artists that she should listen to.

  “Baby, if we’re gonna to be kicking this shit further, then I’m gonna need some hard core rap rolling in your car,” I said, gyrating my hips. The crowd went wild. She just shook her head, laughing .

  “And, to be honest, I also knew that I could sing this one… and play it.” The crowd screamed and whistled, clapping like fans for a rock star. Pictures were being snapped left and right. I felt pretty damn cool—like a fucking rock star.

  “So bear with me, if I fuck it up,” I said as I began to strum the first few chords of Mr. Big’s “To Be With You.” A few people recognized the song right away and started cheering. I ended up singing the entire song twice, with the crowd singing along and videotaping my serenade to Janelle. She just sat glued to her seat, smiling and wiping her eyes. Janelle was a crier, a happy and sad crier. There were so many things I loved about her. Fuck, for the first time ever in my life, I was falling in love.

  Before I left the stage, I grabbed my guitar, and said into the microphone, “Janelle, I am the one who wants to be with you.” The crowd went nuts. Two guys grabbed her and brought her to the stage. I took her in my arms and kissed her, as flashes went off all around us. I picked her up and carried her and my guitar off the stage.

  The rest of the night, there was a crowd of people around us. Our night of romance was now everyone else’s business. I felt guilty, because I’d brought it on myself. Janelle didn’t seem pissed though. She just smiled at me and let me bask in the limelight. And like I said, we didn’t have to buy one damn drink. The place was packed, and we were the center of attention.

  I kept her close to me, with my hand on her thigh or my arm around her shoulder the rest of the night. I didn’t want her to think that anything was really going to take my attention from her. She was the reason I was there. She was the reason I wanted to be there. She was the reason for the entire night. None of these people mattered if Janelle Garrity wasn’t right next to me.