by Mika Lane
Grasping his hands, she pulled herself to standing on shaky legs, and leaned to nuzzle his cheek. She pressed her bare breasts against him. “Did we put on a good show for the class, teacher?”
His eyes were still closed, but his hands wandered over her fevered skin, landing on her flushed cheeks. “I’ll say. That would give them something to fucking write about.”
It had certainly given her something to fucking write about.
Mr. D’s face flushed with excitement and the bulge in his khakis was more than prominent. Roselle and Shanna glanced at each other with knowing looks—both on the same page, without exchanging a word. They approached their instructor, one on each side, and began feathering kisses from his temples down to his neck. His eyes were shut and his mouth partially open as if he couldn’t believe his good fortune. He was about to be fucked by two hot co-eds. To hell with the university rules against teacher-student relations.
All the while, Roselle and Shanna were creating their own private heaven. They each had a hand on him, stroking and kneading, but their free hands found each other. Shanna explored her first caress of female skin, her fingers wandering up to Roselle’s hair, neck, and face. Shanna had never touched anything so warm and delicious. What had she been missing out on all this time?
As their lips moved across his face, they got closer to one another. In one more fraction of an inch, their lips met, much to the surprise of Mr. D, who snapped his head back to find his students relishing one other. Shanna, weak from the velvet of Roselle’s skin, almost forgot he was in the room as she enjoyed her first girl kiss. She’d never imagined what it would be like to kiss someone without whiskers. That had been a mistake.
Mr. D stepped back from the action, circling to the other side of his desk, and settling into his lumpy, standard-issue professor chair. Leaning back, he beheld the hottest two students he’d ever had—one a soft blonde and totally femme, and the other a black-clad Goth chick. Who the hell thought they’d hit of off? But goddamn if they didn’t.
As Mr. D enjoyed the show, the two girls found each other completely, running their hands through each other’s hair and over each other’s bodies—the teacher completely forgotten. Shanna grabbed the lower hem of Roselle’s shirt, and tugged it over her head, her mouth landing on her pierced nipple. Shanna had never had her mouth on another girl’s tit, much less one that was pierced. She intended to go as far as she could. Roselle’s head lolled back, and she moaned as the metal in her nipple was twisted this way and that by Shanna’s demanding lips.
Mr. D, beside himself over the show he’d pulled together, opened his pants and boxers. His shirttails parted, and he spat in his hand to start rubbing his dick. In what seemed a moment of clarity, he popped up from his chair, waddled over to the door in pants slithering down to his ankles, and he made sure the lock was latched.
Shanna’s fire raged as Roselle felt her up. Mr. D, perhaps feeling left out, approached Shanna from behind, placing his hands on her waist. She moaned lightly, and he pushed at the hem of her short skirt.
He dragged her lacy thong down to her ankles and guided her feet as she stepped out of it. He maneuvered her so she had room to bend forward. As she did, her ass cheeks parted, and his tongue fell on her rosebud opening. The sensation hit her like a wave, and she ground herself into his mouth.
“Is he eating your ass?” Roselle said between heavy breaths.
“Yeah. And I’m gonna eat yours later,” Shanna panted.
It had been two days since the very instructive lesson with Gabe, and Jewel had been writing like a demon on fire. She jumped out of bed that morning and grabbed for her laptop, full of words from the night’s crazy dreams. But before getting started, she scrolled through her emails until she saw the one she was looking for from a New York publisher she’d sent a chapter to a month before.
Dear Jewel:
While your submission is an original one, it’s not the editorial direction we’re working toward at this time. Best of luck to you and please keep us in mind for your future stories.
Well, shit.
She dragged and dropped the rejection into a folder she’d created called Publishers and snapped her laptop shut with a sigh. Her bold confidence of a few minutes ago disappeared like rainwater down an open sewer. Why couldn’t she be more resilient? Why were little setbacks so damn devastating? And yet, they were.
Without invitation, the usual recording played through her head—who did she think she was, trying to get published? Her efforts were all a joke. As much as she enjoyed—no, adored—her work as a masseuse at Devi’s, she was desperate to prove she could do something more. Like write a book. And of course, she’d hoped to prove her mother wrong. But was she was nothing more than an imposter?
All the creative writing courses in the world wouldn’t help. With or with out Gabe. Or whatever his name was on that particular day.
Chapter 8
Jewel pulled into the lot at Devi’s, hoping that the job she loved would boost her spirits. Inside, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, taking a deep breath of the air scented with comforting essential oils like citrusy vetiver and spicy bergamot.
The bamboo planting waving in the overhead fans’ breeze took her back to an old trip to the island of Bali. The architecture and design of that small island, with its heavy, ornate furniture and breezy open spaces, had been the inspiration for the spa, now one of the most popular in the entire country. And it had been the most memorable vacation Jewel had ever taken.
“Hey, Devi,” Jewel said, approaching the reception desk.
“Well, hello, Miss Naphine. Ready for a busy day?” Devi asked, looking up from her computer.
Jewel nodded. “Yeah. Hey, got my first rejection letter today, Devi.”
“For your book? Well that’s a bummer.” She pushed her glasses up until they disappeared into her gray hair. “But from what I understand, that’s how it goes in the beginning.”
“I guess. The whole thing was a waste of time, anyway. A silly whim.” She shrugged like she didn’t care. But Devi knew better.
“No, wait a minute. Is that defeat I hear? Because I don’t work with people who give up.”
Jewel looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry, but what was I thinking? Who’s going to want to publish my erotica?”
Devi stood, hands on hips. “Now just a minute. You’ve gotten great feedback from your group. You told me so yourself. And now one rejection has you throwing in the towel? That’s not the Jewel I know. She was never a quitter.”
Jewel bit her lip and sighed.
Devi pursed her lips. “You know how many banks I had to talk to for a loan to open the spa? How many times Aurora had to audition for her singing gigs? How hard Gaia had to work to get her sister’s shop open? Nothing worth having comes easy. At least, it never has for me or anyone I know.”
Jewel looked up. If she’d had a tail, it would probably hide between her legs. “Thanks, Devi. I need to do a better job of rolling with the punches.”
“Do you have your laptop?” she asked, gesturing at Jewel’s backpack.
“Yup, always.”
“You’ve got thirty minutes before your next client. Why don’t you go into the staff room while it’s quiet and see if you can bang out a few words.”
The lump growing in Jewel’s throat threatened to turn into tears. She reached out for Devi’s hand. “Thanks. I love you.”
Her boss waved her hand like there was a fly in her face. “Don’t be silly. Just go.”
Jewel scurried off to the staff room. Time for return of the mojo.
But she sat in front of her laptop, and try as she did, the words that usually flowed from her fingertips stayed hidden somewhere deep inside, like a well that had gone dry.
Goddammit.
“Jewel!” several voices rang as the staff room door blew open. How that small chunk of time had flown, with nothing to show for it. One masseuse after the other joined the fray.
�
�Hey, y’all,” Jewel said. She clicked her laptop shut.
“Ya makin’ some good progress?”
“When will we see your book?”
“I want my own copy! Autographed!”
Jewel walked to her locker to put away her laptop and grab her white kimono robe. “I don’t know, ladies. I just don’t know. Got a rejection from a big publisher today. I sort of don’t feel like writing.”
Gaia was the first to pat her on the back. “Jewel, that’s one person’s opinion.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Screw that stupid publisher. She probably wouldn’t know erotica if it hit her in the head.”
“Yeah, Jewel. What does that one person know”?
She shrugged. “Thanks guys. I appreciate it. We’ll see. Maybe I just need a little break. I’ve been working so hard.”
But wasn’t that the thing with writing? An author always had to work hard?
She padded down the hall to her first client of the day, where she knew she’d be doing what she was very good at.
Chapter 9
Jewel’s cell rang. The screen lit up brightly: Gabe. She sighed and sent it to voicemail. She’d not made it to the previous night’s class, and he was undoubtedly calling to find out why. She felt a twinge of guilt at ignoring him, but really. Since that email from the publisher, well, life had been kind of crappy. She didn’t want Gabe, or anyone in her class, to know what a loser those fancy New Yorker publishers thought she was.
She pulled up to the Fitness Center for another session, but sat in the car for a good fifteen minutes, browsing Facebook. When she finally dragged her butt to the door, she rang the bell as she had last time with a definite lack of enthusiasm.
Bear and his freakishly waxed eyebrows flung open the door. “Jewel! Great to see you again. After you wiped out on the treadmill last time, I wasn’t sure we’d get you back here.”
She hadn’t been sure, either, and glanced down at the knee she’d scraped after the evil machine had ejected her. Where there’d been a small scab, was now just a pink spot.
“I knew you’d be fine in no time. People fall off them all the time,” he added cheerfully.
Why do they have them, then?
He ushered her inside, and it was just as empty as last time. Not too many insane six a.m. exercisers.
“Okay, let’s start by weighing you,” Bear said with a little too much enthusiasm.
Ugh.
But hell’s bells. Damn if she wasn’t down by two pounds.
“Wow!” Bear said, as if hers was the most impressive weight loss he’d ever seen. “You’re doing it, girl!”
Yup. Doing it.
“Follow me to the weight room. We’re gonna bulk you up a bit.”
She hurried to keep up with him as they hustled from the evil treadmill room to the even more evil weight room. Bear snapped his fingers in time to the Britney Spears-esque music flowing from the loudspeakers.
He called over his shoulder, “Kidding! No bulking up my girls. Just putting on some muscle. It will help you burn more calories at rest.”
Now that sounds like a great idea. Rest is always good.
She following him to some contraption she didn’t catch the name of, where he demonstrated its use.
“Watch me,” he demanded. With great fanfare, pushed his arms up, holding the bars, and let them back down in slow motion.
“This is where you make your money,” he explained. “You lower the weight until your muscles start to quiver. That means you’re stressing them, which makes you stronger. Okay, you try it now.”
She took his place on the bench, and after he corrected her grip on the bars, she raised and lowered the weight several times.
“You’re a natural. Okay do this a few more times, and I’ll be right back.” He scurried off to his fellow trainer, probably to catch up on gossip.
She lifted the bar what felt like a hundred times until her arms gave out. Bear had still not returned to escort her to the next stop. She looked around the gym. At that early hour, there were only one or two other folks working out. One was a young guy with a weight belt, and the other was a young-ish woman like herself.
Jewel got off the machine and approached her.
“Hi. Have you been coming here long?” she asked the woman. She had perfect blonde highlights, and looked like she needed to lose about two ounces.
“For awhile. I had some baby weight to lose. What about you? How many kids do you have?”
Why did everyone assume her excess curves were the result of popping out babies?
“I’ve got no kids.”
The woman’s face turned several shades of crimson. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say—”
“Eh. It’s okay. Everyone here assumes I’ve had kids.”
“Well, it’s just that you’re so—” She stopped herself.
“Chubby? Yeah, I know. It’s all good.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“That’s okay. I said it,” Jewel replied.
With Bear nowhere to be found, she returned to her nemesis the treadmill, the one that had so rudely ejected her days earlier. This time, she was determined to show it who was boss.
She climbed on the machine, staring at the dashboard of flashing lights, willing herself to remember the sequence of steps to get it going. But she’d just have to guess, and hope she remained upright. After punching several buttons and producing some screeching beeps, the machine whirred to life, and she began to walk.
“Hey!” Bear said, rushing over to her. “You’re tearing it up!”
“I don’t know about that,” she said. “But I did manage to get this thing going without killing myself.”
“Thatta girl. Now, you control the speed right here,” he said, pointing to plus and minus buttons.
He seemed happy to have her do her own thing.
Initially, the treadmill was awkward and lurching. And unlike walking outside, it flexed underfoot, like walking on a bouncy plank. But the longer she stayed on it, the more soothing its rhythm became. She watched the timer on the dashboard below, and before she knew it, thirty minutes had passed.
Why couldn’t she do this on her own? She certainly didn’t need Bear and his eyebrows pressing a few buttons for her. She made a note to cancel her membership and order a treadmill for her bedroom.
She grabbed her things and slipped out the door without Bear or the blonde mommy noticing her. Driving away, she sped passed Colonial Donuts.
Fuck that place.
A few days and several voicemail messages from Gabe later, Jewel answered his call.
“Hey, you stopped coming to class,” he said to her.
“Yeah. I, um, got busy.”
“I see.”
Awkward silence.
“I’m sorry, Gabe. I’m just not sure…” She trailed off. How could he possibly understand?
“Not sure about what?” he asked.
“Sure about writing.”
“I see. I’d like to talk. How about you come over my place for dinner tonight?” he asked.
“That’s really sweet of you, but—“
“I won’t take no for an answer,” he interrupted.
Oh, what the hell. “Well, okay. What time?” He might as well find out sooner rather than later that her writing was crap and she was pretty much just a poseur.
Jewel braved the Golden Gate Bridge traffic, timing the heavy traffic just right to admire the setting sun to her right. Kite surfers on the water below maneuvered out of the way of the gigantic cargo ships motoring toward the Pacific. Why would someone do something as crazy as get in the vicinity of one of those monsters? But hope was hard to squelch. Just ask her.
She darted through the Marina, weaving around the pokey tourists and frustrated commuters, and climbed Fillmore Street to the fashionable Pacific Heights neighborhood Gabe called home. After circling the block a dozen times and ogling one mansion-like home after the other, she found parking.
>
Locking her car, she wandered down the block, irritated that people didn’t display their house numbers more prominently. She finally decided which was Gabe’s house by studying the numbers of the other houses on the street and using the process of elimination. If her conclusion was right, she’d found his place.
Just when she was about to head up his walkway, the front door to the large house opened and there was Gabe, in the doorway. Only he didn’t see her. He was looking at another woman, who he was escorting out. She was young with long blonde hair, high-heeled boots, and jeans that hugged what looked to be from a distance a great ass. It appeared he’d escorted her to his front door to say goodbye.
Jewel stopped behind one of the huge hedges shrouding Gabe’s house from the street and watched him put a hand on either side of her face. He bent to kiss her softly on the cheek, and she threw her arms around him. She left, smiling broadly, and he watched her from his door. As she got to the street, she turned and waved. He shook his head, smiled, and went back inside, closing the front door.
The woman sauntered down the street with her perfect ass, her long blonde tresses swinging in the foggy breeze.
Oh. My. God.
Jewel’s feet might as well have been set in concrete. She couldn’t have moved if a stampede of buffalo were headed her way. She wasn’t in a relationship with the man, but would he be so careless as to have some little chippie over right before her arrival? Could someone really be that indiscreet?
Her ringing phone snapped her out of her trance. The screen read Gabe. By now she was late, and he was undoubtedly calling to see where she was. She let the call go to voicemail. With one more glance at his gigantic house, she convinced her feet to carry her back to her car. Once safely ensconced in her carefully won parking spot, she played his message.
Hey beautiful. Just checking to see where you are. Dinner’s ready. I’m just keeping it warm. See ya in a few.