Sometimes they were quite kitschy.
"Please!"
Harper Campbell made a gesture toward the two chairs that stood in front of his desk.
His office had little in common with a typical executive office.
Rather, it resembled an elegant gentlemen's room, where people sat together, debated about books and sipped cognac in the crystal glasses that stood in front of the ceiling-high bookshelf, together with a half-full carafe on a trolley.
"What brings you here, Mr King? Ms Spencer?"
Campbell raised his bushy eyebrows and crossed his arms at the base of his slightest stomach as he leaned back.
"A slight disagreement with your new literature professor, slash rowing coach," Benji explained after we sat down.
Benji treated every authority figure as if he were on an equal footing with them.
He was arrogant, confident of himself at all times and had an unwavering sense of self-worth.
"Logan Edwards," Campbell said with an unwavering expression. "Get used to him. "We haven't found another replacement for Mr Turner in a hurry."
I put my hands in my lap and gnawed on my cuticle.
I wanted to say something, but I knew it was wiser to let Benji speak.
That his family had just about every high-ranking person in the private and public sectors in their pockets was no understatement.
Whether it was the chief of police, the director of Thorn, or the owners of the surrounding businesses, they all seemed to be, to some extent, corrupt or corruptible.
Those who slipped down the Kings' popularity list had a hard time in Vancouver. That was a fact.
Only Xantec Industries was not controlled by them - to my great regret.
"What about grading?" Benji asked, as if he was talking to a colleague.
Harper Campbell sighed.
His eyes said, "You snotty kid," while his lips rang out, "Non-negotiable."
That was new. Because normally at Thorn, everything was negotiable, if you had the right connections.
If you were in the P-Fiends, that was the case.
Usually.
Benji undid the top button of his jacket.
If someone invited someone to a spontaneous wedding or to a court hearing, Benjamin King would be one of the few people who would not have to change again.
Like me, he was always perfectly dressed.
We had other things in common, so nobody but us understood why we weren't a couple.
Although I liked Benji, I found the idea of being with him strange.
He was the closest thing I had to a big brother.
A scary big brother.
"Where is he from?" Benji wanted to know.
"California," Campbell replied willingly, violating at least two rules regarding his position and his colleague's privacy.
"Married?" Benji asked.
Principal Campbell denied.
"So he lives here now?"
I sighed after Benji's final question.
I knew what he was after: the extent to which Mr Edwards was already integrated into our community and where his weakness was.
But my gut feeling told me that we were at an impasse.
"For now," Harper Campbell returned and sat up.
"If that's all," he began, pointing to the door, "excuse me. I have work to do."
"I can see that," Benji whispered, looking at Sports Illustrated, just loud enough for the principal to hear.
I clicked my tongue when we left the office.
"If you keep peeing on his leg like that, he'll kill you in your sleep again one of these days," I teased Benji and thought of the fact that there was a spark of truth in every joke.
He had a habit of rubbing his position of power too much in his opponent's face sometimes.
So far he had got away with it unscathed.
But it wasn't the first time that I oraculated that he would surely meet someone at some point who would not tolerate his dominant behaviour in the long run.
"Can't wait," Benji replied, putting his arm around my shoulders.
Together we strolled down the long corridor, back towards the lecture hall we had come from.
"And what happens now," I asked as we stopped in front of the dark green door.
Benji closed the top button of his jacket - this opening and closing was a nervous tic of his.
"I have an idea," he said, grinning sincerely. "But you won't like it."
With these words he opened the door and left me standing there like a little fool...
...longing for the revelation of his supposedly grand idea.
***
My mood did not improve when I learned that my fellow students were also not satisfied with their grades for the homework.
I didn't think much of the phrase "sorrow shared is sorrow halved" and when I heard that Chloe Clarice Bell was the only one who had been given a B by Edwards, I could hear the blood rushing in my head.
I had already gone over the spots the professor had painted in my thesis several times.
He had things to criticize that Artie Turner would have laughed at best - that's how trivial they were.
In the end, he had written "Ambitious - but falls far short of initial expectations" over the entire, half-empty page.
The word "far" was underlined twice.
I would have loved to go to Edwards' throat!
When he explained shortly before the end that we were to hand in an essay on Tolstoy tomorrow (whose work we had started five minutes ago), I hissed to Benji: "I'm ready for anything.
"That's the way I like it, little B," he replied frostily.
My eyes flitted to Edwards, whom Chloe had just involved in a conversation.
All around him stood pretty much everyone else in the class - except Sky and yours truly.
Typical for Chloe to give Clarice Bell the best grade and then complain, I thought spitefully.
After a few seconds had passed, during which I had observed her and the new fantasy of lust of the Thorn students for a while, it dawned on me that I would probably have done the same in her place.
It was only a small consolation that Professor Edwards did not allow her to make a more generous distribution of points either.
"Will you still come to my place?" Sky asked when we had finally finished the first day after the semester break.
"Not today," I answered and pulled my waisted denim jacket over my black sequined shirt.
"Liam?"
Sky stroked one side of her brown-red Rihanna Bob behind her ear.
She now wore feather earrings that reached all the way up to her shoulders.
A pair of jeans bibs, which she had only closed on one side, together with an apple-green shirt, dressed the rest of her.
But all this - and by that I meant her, in my eyes, disastrously poor fashion sense - did not change the fact that she looked stunning.
Her face was a mixture of Audrey Hepburn and Adriana Lima.
And unlike mine, you didn't have to look for her breasts with a magnifying glass.
"Also", I answered and opened my silver hammer, which was parked right next to Sky's Porsche, with the push of a button.
"So?", Sky drilled, while she peppered her mini backpack on the passenger seat next to her.
"I'll tell you some other time," I explained, and closed the door so she couldn't keep poking at me.
I was sure she had already forgotten this conversation tomorrow.
As I was about to leave the parking lot, Benji cut me off with loud screeching tires and, as usual, drew everyone's attention.
Directly behind him was Rash, who didn't seem to look to the right or left either.
The two behaved as usual, as if they owned the road.
With that they lived up to their name - the kings of Thorn - once again.
I moaned annoyed and could barely show Benji my middle finger before he rushed away.
Then it was my turn to leave the college grounds.
&nb
sp; When I had turned into the Maxine Laine, I drove past James and the new girl.
They walked down the sidewalk laughing, side by side.
Who the hell was she?
I wasn't thinking about slowing down. Cause I certainly didn't want James to think I was spying on him.
That wasn't the truth, after all.
I hoped they would go straight home - wherever that would be in the case of Taylor Swift.
Nevertheless, I drove a bit further than usual and parked my car at the farthest edge of Sunset Beach.
The beach was usually crowded at this time of day, but today, to my delight, I met just four other walkers and three tourists as I made my way to the rock.
Once a week I came here. None of my friends knew about it.
It was my little secret.
Bill's villa was on the other side of Vancouver. It was a nice, upscale residential neighborhood that didn't miss a thing.
Nothing except my childhood memories.
When I was on Sunset Beach, the world stopped for a moment.
The ever-changing responsibilities, worries and challenges of life were blown away.
I took off my shoes and stockings and ran barefoot towards the waves.
As the cold water washed around my toes, a tingling sensation ran through me, reaching up to my scalp.
I felt alive.
After half an hour of walking up and down a few meters and enjoying the nature around me, I started my way home.
I moaned softly when I saw the red pickup truck I knew so well standing in our driveway.
"You have a visitor," Mom whispered after I dropped the door in the lock.
She had thrown a silk stole around her slender neck and judging by the rest of her outfit - a mini dress that looked deep up and down - Liam had been waiting for me here for quite a while.
I was sure that my mother had changed extra after he had passed by.
Because that was just her style.
She regularly threw herself at my friends.
But when I had asked her about it in the past, she would deny everything and portray me as paranoid.
I had given up on it in the meantime and accepted it without comment.
Apparently she needed that to polish up her ego.
Shortly after her marriage with Bill she had noticed that her new husband had a great preference for his secretaries.
The only reason she stayed with him, even though he cheated on her, was because she didn't want to go back into poverty.
And Bill obviously really loved her - you could see that from the way he looked at her.
However, that love was probably still not enough to put an end to his urges.
Maybe it was because I was my mother's daughter - or maybe it was because in the days of Tinder-Dates and WhatsApp, there wasn't enough room for true romance and attention - but I was disillusioned with love.
I didn't expect to suddenly find my Prince Charming around the next corner.
In fact, I had already written him off completely.
That was okay, because I could spare myself the hope of something that would only disappoint you in the end.
It had been nice when I still thought that Santa Claus really existed.
But: would I still have wanted to believe in it and let everyone around me lie to me when I was already thirty?
No - by no means!
It was good that I already knew now - well below thirty - what I could expect from life and what I could not.
"Shall I bring you a Coke?", Mom asked in an overprotective tone, which she only put on when we had visitors.
"What do we have Rita for?" I replied annoyed.
Rita was one of the two housekeepers Bill had hired.
I didn't bother her much; I could prepare my own food now, but I usually ordered something when I was hungry.
Unlike Mom, I didn't need Rita's help with the closet or brushing my hair.
You could only shake your head over the latter anyway (unless, of course, you lived in the fifteenth century).
"Hi", I said after closing the door behind me.
Liam sat on my canopy bed with his legs spread wide apart and smiled at me.
It was at moments like this that I realised again how handsome he looked.
"Your mom was happy to see me," he said with a smile.
"She sure did," I replied curtly and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Hey, not so fast," he complained and pulled me towards him at the hip.
I sat down on his lap, as he had intended, and snuggled up against him.
He smelled of the new boss and a pinch of coconut.
"What's wrong, Blaire?" he asked, stroking my head with one hand.
At once I wondered if I had been too hard on him before.
He could be really sensitive when he wanted to be.
"'Tired', I explained, without making much effort to cover up the lie.
I didn't feel like arguing in front of Liam about the new literature professor.
He didn't usually understand why I was so invested in college anyway. In his opinion, I was sure I had a good job because the lecturers at the P-Fiends were always willing to turn a blind eye.
Apart from the fact that Logan Edwards didn't seem to understand how things worked here, it was important for me to know that I could meet the requirements without cheating.
Even if Xantec Industries was not the only company for miles around that successfully avoided all attempts at compromise, it would still be important to me.
"I know what will wake you up again," Liam muttered, nibbling my earlobe with his teeth.
Then he stood up swinging and threw me over his shoulder like a caveman as he walked with me around my king-size bed.
I emitted a loud squeal as he dropped me onto the soft sheets.
He put his big hands on my A-cup and started massaging my breasts. With his nose he pushed my T-shirt up and kissed my belly.
Slowly he worked his way further down until he finally reached my waistband, which he opened with his teeth.
"Liam Wilson, you know how to surprise," I moaned as he stroked his finger over my middle, which was covered by pink and black lace panties.
"Well, I should hope so, baby," he whispered and looked up with a mischievous grin.
I rolled my eyes, but had to laugh involuntarily.
"Come on!", I urged him and pushed my pelvis impatiently towards him.
"Your wish is my command."
Liam's eyes flashed before he disappeared between my legs, smiling and giving me one orgasm after another.
I buried my hands in his blonde hair and gasped noisily as he chased his tongue up and down my swollen bead of pleasure, first agonizingly slowly and then faster and faster.
After I had come twice at his mouth, I pulled him up to me and opened his trousers.
"We can just cuddle," he said in a rough voice.
I put my fingers around his erection and massaged them.
"So, cuddle, hmm?", I asked with a teasing grin and looked at him defiantly.
Meanwhile my hand slid up and down his hard cock at increasingly shorter intervals.
"Only ... if you want," he replied breathlessly.
I bit my lower lip.
"Okay," I finally said and let go of him abruptly.
The consternation was written all over his face.
I giggled.
Then I leaned against his chest and pressed against it to make him turn on his back.
I looked at him from bottom to top with a seductive lash glance before pulling his trousers down a little and wrapping my lips around his bulging glans.
Liam moaned deeply as I took him all the way into my mouth.
I had always been good at suppressing the gag reflex during oral sex, which is why Deepthroat was one of my greatest sexual assets.
I put my hands around his shaft and moved them in rhythmic, semi-circular movements, together with my mouth.
Not two minutes passed w
hen I tasted warm, salty liquid in my throat.
Liam stroked my cheek and indicated even before the last twitching of his penis, that he was coming back up to him.
He took me in his arms and pressed a kiss on my hairline.
"I love you, Blaire Spencer," he said in a threateningly earnest tone.
I put my hand on his washboard stomach and gently stroked it with my fingers.
"It's nice to be with you," I replied quietly, hoping fervently that he would not notice my circumnavigation tactics.
But of course he did not miss it.
After a few seconds he said: "It's okay if you're not ready. I just wanted you to know."
I swallowed and took a deep breath.
His coconut note crept into my nose, which reminded me of the beach and that we always wanted to go surfing together.
"How about," I asked, "you, me, two boards - Sunday morning after Josh's party in the waves?"
I looked up at him.
He smiled.
"Nothing I'd like better than that, sweetheart."
***
After Liam left, I sat down to do the essay on Tolstoy.
I knew him, of course, although I was less familiar with his works than with those of other writers.
I didn't really know myself what that was about.
Artie Turner had wanted to start the new term with us at Wuthering Heights.
I had been looking forward to this, because I knew the book inside out.
"I mumbled to myself as I began my research on Tolstoy.
I sat at my desk, the MacBook was on the right, near the edge.
In front of me, a floor-to-ceiling window looked directly onto the pool.
For a moment I was hypnotized by the seemingly motionless water on which a single beech leaf was floating.
But then I remembered, shook my head and turned back to Tolstoy.
For a quarter of an hour I read all sorts of things about him until I suddenly stumbled upon a quote that caught my attention: "All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life consists of shadow and light.
Inspired by that wisdom, I wrote over nine thousand words (four thousand more than necessary) and in the end I was quite satisfied with my work.
Vicious Bet: Don't fall in love! (Sinners and Saints Book 1) Page 5