Hot for Teacher

by Barrie Abalard

  “Rosemary,” he whispered. “Would you like to come back to my place?” The hand on her breast now massaged her openly, and the hand on her bottom had begun to insinuate itself under her skirt.

  I’m not ready for casual sex with anyone, no matter how horny I am.

  Pushing on his chest with both hands, she said, “No, I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “Mmm,” he moaned, nuzzling her neck. “What kind of girl are you? Whatever kind you are, I want to get to know you better. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve met in a long time. And you seem to be enjoying yourself, too. Or am I wrong?”

  Panic was growing inside her, and she didn’t know why. She broke the embrace, moving a step away. “No, I mean, yes, uh, I enjoy your company. But I’m not going to sleep with a man the same night I meet him. Though I wouldn’t mind seeing you again.”

  Steve grimaced and thrust his hands in his pants pockets. “‘Wouldn’t mind,’ huh? That really strokes the old male ego.”

  Rosemary had finally caught her breath. Everything was moving too fast for her, but she couldn’t deny the tingle this man made her feel in the places only Charlie used to touch. “Steve, I do like you. It’s just that I’ve been alone almost two years since the love of my life died, and I haven’t been with another man since. So, I, uh, need to go slowly.”

  He smiled and touched both his index fingers to her still-hard nipples, visible through her bra and blouse. She sucked in air as his fingers circled them, commenting, “These gals seem ready to go.” He tweaked them, hard, while grinding his erect penis into her abdomen.

  Rosemary slapped his face, the crack sounding like a pistol shot. Steve’s face was pink where she had hit him, and his eyes blazed. Grabbing her wrists, he hissed, “That’s the last time you’ll ever hit me. Quit playing games. You’ve been pushing your tits in my face all evening, and they are very fine tits, indeed. So come off the innocent act. Your type always wants it.” He smashed his mouth against hers, pinning her against the car while grinding himself against her again.

  She lost it. She could hardly breathe. Her hands flailed against his back until he grabbed them, forcing them behind her as he continued to do as he pleased.

  “So, you like it rough, sister?” he hissed. “I like that, too.”

  He hiked her skirt, keeping her pressed against the car. Her arms were pinned painfully behind her. His mouth stifled the scream rising in hers. She felt fingers hook into her panties and heard a zipper’s descent. Was she really going to be raped in the parking lot of an upscale restaurant in a middle-class Boston suburb? By this educated, cultured, professional man she’d thought was a gentleman?

  Rosemary had never been so frightened in her life, but she was determined not to be a victim. Gritting her teeth, she pressed herself backwards against the car, though it hurt her arms and wrists so badly that tears ran down her face. In the split-second that space opened between them, she raised one of her feet to stomp with the spiked heel, desperate to stop him. He cried out when her heel hit its mark. But instead of backing off, he cuffed her, sending her glasses flying. Pain exploded in her temple.

  Why hasn’t anyone seen him, stopped him by now?

  He removed his mouth from hers, slapping his palm across it to keep her from yelling. “You little redheaded bitch, you know you’re loving this. And you’re about to get everything ol’ Steve has to give you. If you’re a good girl, I’ll take you somewhere else so we can enjoy a second go-round. Oh, the things I’m going to do to you --” He leered. “-- and make you do to me, for me. I’ll put that precious little mouth of yours to work at something more than kissing.”

  He grabbed her panties, ripping them off. Fighting back with all she had, she squirmed in a last-ditch effort to avoid his efforts to penetrate her.

  I’ll be damned if I’ll become a statistic!

  Suddenly, her body was no longer pressed against the car. A cooling breeze was drying the tears on her face. She dragged her arms out from behind her, crying out as she attempted to move her hands. Her wrists hurt so badly. When she realized she was naked from the waist down, she tried to lower her skirt. But her hands flopped about, no strength in them. Heaven knew where her torn underwear was. For once she wished she’d been wearing pantyhose. He would have had a harder time if she’d been wearing them. After wiping her face on her sleeve, she thought she could make out two men wrestling, though without her glasses, it was difficult. The meaty sound of a fist connecting with a stomach horrified her as one man crumpled to the ground. She blinked rapidly, straining to see. Who was down? Was it her tormentor, or her savior? She attempted to pull down her skirt once more, managing with great pain to drag it to the tops of her thighs.

  A blurred figure of a tall man, dark-haired and strong-looking, stood before her. She shrank from him.

  “Miss, I’m going to call 911 now. Don’t worry, I’m not going to touch you. Help will be here soon.” He stopped a moment, then said, “Would you like me to pull your skirt back into place, or would you rather do it yourself?”

  She sobbed from relief. The man’s not Steve. But her rescuer had to be someone familiar. She knew the voice, but couldn’t place it.

  She gulped, saying, “My arms and wrists are hurt. He had them pinned behind me the whole time.”

  Through her tears she saw the man take off his jacket. “Here, use this to cover yourself.”

  Rosemary nodded, the tears dripping from her chin. “I need a tissue.”

  “Let me call 911 before we worry about tissues.”

  The familiar voice reassured her. “All right,” she whispered, turning so that her helper could tie his jacket around her waist. Shy hands tugged her skirt so that it was pulled down over her bare backside, as the jacket did not wrap completely around her. She heard her protector report the assault, requesting an ambulance. Tired, weak, and nauseous, Rosemary slumped to the ground. Instantly her helper was by her side.

  “Whoa. Are you all right? How can I help?”

  “Tissues, please, and find my glasses. I can’t see a damned thing. But don’t let that bastard get away while you’re tending to me.”

  “Don’t worry. Others are holding him. The police and ambulance should arrive shortly.”

  Hearing faint sirens, Rosemary leaned over and vomited. Her savior held her hair back as she emptied her stomach, then tenderly wiped her mouth after she finished. He helped her to stand, saying, “Let’s move you a little, okay?” Half-carrying her to the next car in the lot, she leaned against him as red lights split the night, the electronic wail of the sirens making her head pound. She hurt all over, and she still couldn’t use her hands. She hoped her wrists weren’t broken. “Thank you. Whoever you are.”

  He gently dried her eyes, cheeks, and nose with a tissue. “It’s nothing any decent human being wouldn’t do.”

  His voice, so familiar, so soothing ...

  The sounds of approaching vehicles jerked her upright. “My glasses! Don’t let them run over my glasses!” she cried.

  The familiar scent of Toujours Moi perfume astonished her. “Rosie, honey, I’ve got them.”

  “Faith?” she moaned. “But I thought --? What?”

  “After we drove off, I realized I’d lost one of my ruby earrings, so we came back to look for it in the parking lot. When we pulled up, we saw a man holding you, and other people holding Steve. Honey, what happened? I mean, did he --?”

  She shook her head as Faith pressed her glasses into her hands. “No. This kind man saved me. Fai, please put my glasses on for me. My wrists aren’t working too well.”

  Rosemary heard her friend suck in her breath. “Oh, honey, this is all my fault.” Faith gently placed the glasses on her face before gathering her in her arms. Rosemary heard Faith moan, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  She blinked to see Faith, but even more to see her savior: Jonathan Kent, a bleeding cut on his chin, his fine suit torn and dirty. He was shaking one of his hands. The knuckles appeared swollen, b
ruised. She met his eyes, but he slid his gaze away.

  “Dr. Kent?”

  “Ms. Lockhart, let’s not have an uncomfortable conversation. I happened to be the one at hand, so I did what any decent man would. I didn’t even realize it was you at first.”

  She could only gape. What were the odds of her professor eating Friday night dinner at the same time, at the same place? She blurted, “You live in Framingham?”

  Rosie, what a dumb thing to say.

  He cleared his throat. “The Fates have had quite a time with us tonight, haven’t they?” His voice softened considerably, and he reached out to pull a damp curl away from her bruised face, even though Faith still held her. “I hope you’re not badly hurt. Please don’t hesitate to contact me should you need any special assistance to continue taking my class. If you can’t write, we will record the lectures for you. I’m happy to help in any way I can. Any way at all.”

  Paramedics pushed him and Faith out of the way, asking Rosemary urgent questions. They strapped her to a gurney, wheeling her towards the ambulance. Faith followed, shouting, “Rosie, I’ve got your purse.”

  She tried to sit up. “Wait! Dr. Kent, I mean, that man over there, this is his jacket. I have to give it back to him.”

  The salt-and-pepper-haired EMT looked her square in the eye. “I’m sure he can live without it for now. You, with two purses, are you riding with her?”

  “Yes,” Faith insisted as she clambered into the ambulance beside her friend. “I’m not leaving you, Rosie, not for one moment.”

  The back of the emergency vehicle closed with a bang. The female EMT shouted instructions to the driver.

  Rosemary lay there as an IV was started and her vital signs checked. They immobilized her battered wrists to prevent further injury. Through a reflection on a side window she had seen a handcuffed Steve shoved into the back of a police cruiser.

  “Charlie,” she whispered as she shut her eyes, Faith stroking her forehead. But it was Dr. Kent’s image she saw on the inside of her eyelids.

  Chapter Four

  “Rosie, get back in bed now, or I’m going to spank you. Remember, I’m older than you.”

  Faith’s voice was more affectionate than scolding. Rosemary hobbled down the hallway to the kitchen, flinching from the greenhouse window’s bright sunlight.

  “What time is it? I need to do something. I hate lying in bed.” She squinted at the clock. “It’s one? Why didn’t you wake me? I’ve got things to do.”

  “You’re not doing anything, girl. The ER doc last night released you into my care, but made me promise to stay with you. So get your butt back in bed.”

  “Or you’ll spank me, right?” Rosemary tried to grin through her split lips.

  “Sure, just like Charlie used to.”

  Faith’s comment stopped her in her tracks. “What?” she said, pretending not to understand.

  “Hon, it was obvious that Charlie spanked you. I recognized the signs, because Max spanked me all the time.”

  She stared at her friend. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  Faith smiled, patting her shoulder. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? Here we were, both of us sitting oh, so carefully when we had lunch together, and neither of us said boo.”

  Rosemary laughed, then said, “Ow, ow, laughing hurts.”

  “Okay, forget going back to bed. We have to talk about this spanking thing. Want breakfast? Sit down, I’ll get you some coffee.” Faith hustled around the kitchen, pulling out bread and butter and a frying pan. “How about eggs and toast?”

  “Yes, anything. I’m starving.” Rosemary awkwardly wrapped both her hands around the mug of coffee her friend had poured. “Here we were, both getting spanked on a regular basis, and we never said anything to each other. I can’t believe it!”

  “God love my Max, he was strict.” Faith sighed. “I was missing him and my discipline terribly till I met Doug.”

  Rosemary blinked. “Doug spanks you, too?”

  “Let me put it this way. I know the next time I see him, my butt’s going to catch flaming hell because I lost one of my ruby earrings.”

  “I miss Charlie fiercely, and one of the reasons I miss him most is his spankings.” Rosemary felt her mouth droop at the corners.

  “Truth be told, I like the after-spanking part best. You know, the hot sex.” Faith winked. “Wait a minute, what are you doing?”

  Rosemary had gone to the coffee pot, attempting to pour coffee with two splinted wrists. “What’s it look like?”

  “Stop that and sit down.” Faith slid a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her after she sat. “How about if we have a ‘girls only’ weekend, just like old times?”

  “All right. Will you help me shower later?”

  Faith hugged her friend’s shoulders. “I’m here as long as you need me.”

  Rosemary ate, thinking about what she’d seen in the mirror before she came to the kitchen. She’d wondered who the battered-looking woman was, the woman with the puffy, split lips and the blackened bruise on the side of her face. She’d held her arms up to the mirror, finding it hard to believe that she sported splints on both wrists. Thank heavens they weren’t broken, just badly sprained. The parts of her forearms and hands not wrapped in bandages were purple and swollen. Looking down, she spied the elastic bandage on her right ankle. She felt as if she’d been run over by an eighteen-wheeler.

  A gentle hand on her forearm brought her back to the present. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” Faith said.

  “No. I’m sorry. What were you talking about?”

  “Just the catalogs Doug dropped off this morning. I thought we could spend some time looking at clothes. It’ll be Christmas before you know it.”

  As her friend chattered on, Rosemary slipped back into her own world. The assault and the injuries had been bad enough, but retelling the horrid event several times to detectives had washed fresh hurt and humiliation over her. And with no mate to comfort her, Charlie’s death had sandbagged her again after nearly two years. Tears sprouted in her eyes, but she attempted to hide them by gulping coffee and nodding at Faith.

  Charlie, what a fine mess I’ve gotten myself into.

  “Here I am, babbling about the holiday dresses I’ve seen, and you’re crying.”

  Rosemary noticed through her own tears that Faith was weeping, too.

  “Last night is all my fault. I don’t care what the facts are, in my mind, it is. And I’ve been talking about anything but last night because the guilt is killing me. I’m not being a good friend. I’m not being here for you. Instead, I’m talking about a bunch of stupid catalogs as if this were a normal weekend. I’m sorry.”

  Faith dropped her head into her hands and sobbed. Rosemary touched her hair, sobbing with her.

  “You’re my best friend. You were only trying to help. It’s not your fault that Steve -- what happened is not your fault.”

  Faith grabbed a box of tissues for the two of them. “I know. But I don’t feel that way. Understand?”

  Rosemary nodded while wiping her face.

  “Forget the catalogs. If you want to spend the weekend talking about what happened, I’ll hold your hand and listen to every damned word,” Faith said. “It’s not about my feelings.”

  “You know, I can’t stand feeling dirty another minute. I need a shower. And my hair washed.” Fatigue washed over her, now that her stomach was full. “But I’m so tired now.”

  “C’mon, hon.”

  Faith’s arm around her waist, Rosemary limped to her bed, where she slept dreamlessly. When she awoke, it was dark, and Faith was still sitting by her bed.

  “How are you?” Her friend brushed curls back from her face. “Want that shower now? You can sit on the shower chair your friend Mark brought over and use your handheld sprayer.”

  “Mark was here? Why didn’t you wake me?” Rosemary cried. “Geez, Faith, I’m not an invalid.”

  “Shh, now, you were sleeping and
looked too peaceful to disturb. Apparently your professor contacted him, saying you’d had an accident, and I let Mark keep on thinking that. Besides the chair, he brought you some flowers, too -- lots of bright Gerber daisies. He said he hoped you were feeling better and to call him if you need a ride to Monday’s classes.”

  “But he lives in Boston, near the University, and I’m way out here. I can’t ask him to do that.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to drive you to school before I go to work, and I’m sure the English department can find someone to drive you home, if Mark can’t do it. Within a week to ten days, if you’re good and follow the doctor’s orders, you’ll be able to drive yourself. However, I’m happy to give you rides for weeks if necessary.”

  “Oh, all right,” Rosemary sulked. “But this stinks.”

  “It does. But that’s how it is. Now do you want to take a shower?”

  “You’re talking to me as if I were a child.” She could step on her lower lip, she’d pooched it out so far. The long nap and her need for more pain pills had left her feeling mean.

  “You’re acting like a child. If Charlie were here, he’d open up a can of whup-ass for your attitude,” Faith said.

  “If Charlie were here, I’d never have been in that parking lot with Steve,” Rosemary shot back.

  “Ouch. I feel guilty enough without help.”

  Rosemary spied her friend’s hunched shoulders. “Aw, crap, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I haven’t even thanked you for giving up your weekend to take care of me. All I’ve done is bitch and moan. You’re right, I do deserve a spanking. Can you forgive me?”

  “I pestered you into meeting Steve for dinner. I wish I could go back in time and change things.” Faith was biting her lip, and her eyes were red.

  “It was my decision to go. I shouldn’t have dressed the way I did. It was my fault.”