by Deena Bright
Jocelyn cut the fun short; she needed to get going. The boys needed picked up from their soccer camp. The girls made Leo promise profusely that he’d be there again to play with them. Reluctantly, they gathered their stuff and left with Jocelyn, leaving Leo and I alone. Suddenly, I felt nervous, apprehensive about what was to come.
“Did I ever tell you about the time my parents were gonna call the school and complain about you?” He asked as he gathered towels and bottles of sunscreen.
“Ummm NO! About what? What I do?” I was floored; parents never complained about me. I was the coveted and glorified teacher. Parents begged guidance counselors to put their kids in my classes. This was definitely news to me.
Leo sat down on the top step of the pool, leaning back on the stairs’ handrail. He looked young with his hair wet, his damp skin glistening in the sunlight. Well, he was young. “Remember the time you told us that you didn’t really listen to music and everyone in the class went ballistic and asked what you did in the car then?” I got that same question every year in class. Teenagers just couldn’t understand that everyone didn’t blast music at eardrum-breaking decibels while cruising down the street.
“Well, you said, ‘I either talk on my cell or listen to Howard Stern.” Which was the truth, I never did anything else. “That Christmas, I asked my parents for a subscription to Sirius satellite radio. I wanted Howard too.” Everyone should get to start their days with Howard Stern. Howard was my happy wake up; he was better than Starbucks in the morning. Unless of course Eric the Midget/Eric the Actor was on, then I just wanted to blow up my radio. Man, that guy could ruin my entire day. “My parents were pissed; they said that you condoning Howard Stern was a bad influence on me.” I couldn’t believe I was just hearing about this.
“But I never TOLD you to get Howard Stern; I never even talked about what he said or did on the radio. I just said that’s what I did instead of listening to music.” I was freaking out. I didn’t want the Clings to think that I was trying to persuade my students to partake in deviant behavior; Howard was a radio comedian in my opinion. I loved him.
“I know, I know. Relax. I convinced them to leave it alone,” his voice softened as he tried to ease my concern. “I didn’t get Sirius back then; they wouldn’t hear of it. I have it now though; it’s good stuff.” He was smiling at me, but I felt awful. I hated that I caused friction in his family and that his parents thought that I was a bad influence. I didn’t want parents to think poorly of me. Maybe I should stop hanging out with my hot, young male students then. Former students.
I sat down next do Leo on the other side of the handrail, “So, do they hate me now?” I felt like such a loser.
“No, they like that I’m doing work for you now; they still show all of their friends that scrapbook you made us do.” Leo picked up the water in his hands and squirted it out of his fist. “They ended up thinking you were pretty cool, just like everyone does.” He wasn’t looking at me, just staring down at his hands, watching the water fly through the air. .
“Well that’s good; I guess I redeemed myself at some point, right?” I said. He was so easy to talk to; I felt like we’d been friends since childhood.
“I remember when I first thought that you were the cutest teacher on Earth.” He revealed.
I cut him off, “If you say one word about my baby costume…”
Leo laughed, “Oh no, that costume is when I decided I needed to start studying the female anatomy.” A look of raw animal lust crossed his face. “Man, I knew as soon as I saw you in that getup that I had to know exactly how and what to do if I ever got the chance to unzip it.” His look was faraway and reminiscent. “I studied my ass off. Kelsey never even evoked that kind of reaction from me. ” He spoke so matter-of-factly.
“Leo!” I shrieked. I couldn’t believe Leo Cling of all people just said something like that to me.
“What? You can’t fault me for that. It was so…so…I don’t know, crazy sexy.” He didn’t look embarrassed or nervous saying that to me at all. I wondered why. “Miss Garrity, it’s all anyone talked about, guys that is,” he said. Turning toward me, he looked perplexed, “That’s what I couldn’t figure out. Girls knew we were talking about how hot it was, but every time they get chances to wear costumes, they dress like trashy whores. I never got that.” He looked truly baffled as he sat there shaking his head in disbelief. “I still don’t get it,” he said. Leo was smarter than most boys, men, I talked to. He had wisdom that was refreshing and pensive at the same time.
“Okay, remind me that if I ever find that costume in my boxes of junk to shred it and then burn the pile to ashes.” I shook my head, defeated.
“I’ll pay you 500 bucks for it.” He laughed. “Anyway, remember when we were doing Macbeth?” he asked. How could I forget? It’s the worst part of the senior curriculum. They say that Shakespeare is timeless, but try telling that to teenagers in 2012, while they sit deciphering archaic language simultaneously. It’s a freaking nightmare. “You must’ve told us a hundred times that you were only a few steps ahead of us, because it was not only the first time you’d taught it, but the first time you actually read it too.” It was. I had no idea what I was doing.
“I remember.” I groaned. I butchered my Macbeth lessons that year. It’s a wonder I didn’t get fired after that unit; I had no idea what I was talking about.
“We got to that part when Lady Macbeth says those lines about ‘given suck’ and some kid asked how she knew what that felt like to nurse a baby if they didn’t have kids.” He laughed, amused. Man, seniors were idiots; they couldn’t just leave things alone.
Leo continued, “You didn’t know. You spent almost the entire week trying to figure it out.” He said, with a look of amazement on his face. “You asked all the other English teachers; they didn’t know.” He laughed. “You then called one of your college professors from Ohio State to get the answer. Remember?” He seemed in awe retelling the story.
Oh, I remembered. I was such an idiot back then. Leo was referring to Act I Scene vii, when Lady Macbeth says:
I have given suck, and know
How tender ‘tis to love the babe that milks me:
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
Have pluck’d my nipple from his boneless gums,
And dash’d the brains out, had I so sworn as you
Have done to this.
Lady Macbeth was basically trying to persuade her husband to keep a promise he made to her, by guilting him in to doing so. Isn’t that what all wives want anyway? To ensure that their husbands keep their promises, their vows? Well, in her case, she was a power-hungry bitch who wanted her husband to kill the King for her, but that’s beside the point.
Anyway, nobody cared about Macbeth, probably hadn’t in the last century, but I had to teach it. Well, I had just explained to my students that Macbeth was destined to never have children, and some smartass kid said, “Who was she breast-feeding then?” I had no freaking idea. I was new, wanted to educate my students, educate myself. So, I spent nearly forever trying to figure it out. Instead of just telling the kid to read and move on, I wanted to find out for him. The only remotely valid answer I ever got was, “Historians believed that Lady Macbeth was married and mothered children before marrying Macbeth.” What the heck kind of answer was that and where were these previous kids in the play? I had no idea.
“I loved how passionate you got about finding the answer for us. Most teachers would’ve said that it didn’t matter, but you didn’t give up. It was cool,” he said. Then surprising me entirely, he said, “I also liked hearing you say ‘nipples’ all the time.” He laughed. I kicked water at him. “Hey, I was 17; my hot teacher was saying ‘nipples,” he explained. One thing that I have learned for sure in the last few weeks is that I had no idea how little it took to turn on 17-year-old boys. And here, I just thought I was teaching English.
It was starting to get late; I told Jasper that I’d cook dinner at his house for him. He had t
hings he wanted to talk to me about. I explained to Leo that I needed to get a shower and go to the “main house.” We both laughed at “main house”; he needed to get going too. He’d wasted an entire day playing in the pool, instead of doing the landscaping for Jasper. Jasper would be pissed, but I’d handle him.
Leo got out of the pool first, grabbing a towel for me, holding it out like a parent holds a towel for their child when the kid gets out of the water. I hesitated momentarily, and then walked into the cloth as Leo wrapped the towel and his strong arms around me. My arms were pinned against my sides, trapped inside the towel. I was afraid to look up, into his eyes, at those cherubic dimples. I paused, then slowly looked up at him. He rubbed my arms, up and down my arms and shoulders, drying me off and staring at me the entire time. He asked if I was warm enough; I nodded, licking my lips, not taking my eyes from him. I waited.
I was surprised when he released me, and stepped back a few steps, away from me, asking if he could borrow one of the towels over on the chair. Shocked, I nodded and threw a towel in his direction, not reaching him. He walked to pick it up, thanked me for lunch, and started to get his shoes on. “I had fun today Miss Garrity.” He stated, smiling. “You’re fun and easy to talk to.” He started to walk toward the water toys, stopped, and said, “Plus, it’s always a good day to hang out with a hot chick in her bikini.” He laughed, flinging his towel at me.
Leo put the rafts and buckets back in the storage shed and left. I stood there confused and extremely disappointed. There was no doubt about it; I’d wanted Leo Cling to kiss me, really kiss me. I could almost taste his lips on mine. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine. I’d wanted nothing else since he saved me from Marcus the other day. I gave him all the signals, didn’t resist it at all, and he didn’t take the cue. Or maybe he didn’t want to take the cue? Maybe, he was resisting me? Damn, I’d have to conquer that, fix that. I wanted to kiss his lips, taste him, and even lick his adorable dimples when he grinned. Hell, he’d said he studied the woman’s anatomy, because of me. I wanted to know if his studies paid off. I had to know.
Chapter Twelve
“Jasper, no, I can’t drop everything and go to New York City on Monday.” I’d cooked dinner and even cleaned up his house, so we could talk, figuring we were going to talk about my future, my musical, and even Marcus. I was dead wrong. Apparently, talking meant that he needed another favor from me. I knew that if I moved in to his poolhouse that I’d be forever in his debt, especially since he turned my 50 grand into 250 grand. “And you didn’t even touch your potatoes or chicken.” He’d only eaten his vegetables and salad.
“Nelle, I’m not eating breaded chicken; you should know that by now, Christ,” he said, picking it up and looking at it, like it was a dead rat. “And there’s so much cheese on those potatoes, I wouldn’t shit for a week,” he said shaking his head. “Ya really should start watching what you eat, especially now that you’re back on the market.”
“Jasper, I’m not--”
Cutting me off, he said, “You could use some exercise, getting a little flabby.” He said, pointing at my stomach. Leave it to Jasper to say it like it is. I hadn’t gained one pound in three years, not one. I was damn proud of that fact. Granted, I could use a little cardio and toning, and probably a little yoga too, but geez, back off.
He continued, ignoring my pissed and stunned reaction, “I need you to go for me; I need to be in Atlanta for work.” He stopped, thinking that he’d explained himself thoroughly. Realizing, that I still wasn’t sold, he said, “I promised I’d be at this fundraiser in New York with my wallet. You need to go for me, represent Garrity Advertising, with my wallet and credit card.” Hmmm…with is credit card? I liked the sound of that.
“What do you mean, with your credit card?” I asked, fishing for some incentives.
“You can use the company card and my personal card. You can spend $1,000.00 on clothes and shit for the event, and use the company card for all other New York expenses.” He took a drink of his water, gulping it down quickly. “Just go to the gala, represent me, the company, and donate 20 grand to the March of Dimes. That’s it.” Wow. That sounded fantastic. “One of our account reps will be with you too; she just graduated last fall from James Madison in Virginia.” I could tell that he was done talking; he was nearing the end of his patience with me. You only got a few moments of Japser’s time. “She’s new, but good. Just moved back here, take her, show her the ropes. You’ve worked for me before. You know what’s what.” He opened his wallet, getting out both credit cards.
“I’ll do it Jasp, but you owe me.” I took the cards from him.
“I don’t owe you shit; you’re getting a pretty sweet deal. I gotta go, need to run a few miles. I have a running date. By the way, clean this mess up before you leave.” He left the room, grabbing more green beans as he left. Green beans. What an ass! An ass who just gave me a thousand bucks to blow in New York City. Cha-ching! I started cleaning up and said a silent prayer that no guy ever asked me out on a running date. What the hell?
******
“Are you kidding me? I’m so jealous; did you ask if I could come too?” Char was whining on the phone. “Can’t we spend the 1000 tomorrow BEFORE you go on Monday?” She had a point. It would be more fun to go shopping with her tomorrow instead of alone in New York. But, I wanted clothes from 5thAvenue, deserved them really.
“Char, I want Manhattan clothes; I get to pretend I’m rich,” I whined petulantly. She and I loved pretending we were loaded. We knew that being a teacher and a real estate agent in Ohio would never make us millions, so pretend riches were the closest we’d ever get.
“I know, but that just sucks. This has been the luckiest two weeks for you; I’m so jealous.” Char whined back. “First you get rid of that Fuck, then you have two young studs pining for you, and now New York and Jasper’s money. I wanna be you.” I loved talking to her; she always made me feel so good about myself. Leave it to her to think that the end of my marriage was one of the best things that ever happened to me, something to be jealous of. Maybe it was pretty great; things seemed pretty great. I loved Char; everyone should get to have a Char in her life. Leo wasn’t into me; Briggs, mmmm, Briggs.
Once we hung up, I looked in the mirror, pulled up my shirt, scrutinizing my stomach. Flab. Jasper was right; it was time to start working on my body. I’d started swimming when I moved in here. What? Like three times. Fine, I’d do a yoga video before bed, let it relax me, and help this jello belly at the same time. I never understood how a flat stomach could still be so flabby. Wasn’t it enough that I was eating right, somewhat right, and making sure I didn’t put on a ton of weight? I knew so many wives and mothers who let themselves go once they got married and had kids. I didn’t want to be like that. A lot of good that did me now.
About 20 minutes in to my video, I was feeling pretty good, yet extremely sore from lack of practice. I was in the infamous downward dog position when there was a knock on the window behind me. I looked through my legs, making out Briggs’ silhouette in the dark. I motioned for him to come around; the door was unlocked.
“Don’t mind me, I’m enjoying the view,” he swooned as he walked through the door. “Mm…mm…mm…, really enjoying the view.” He sat down on the couch right behind me, watching me.
“Oh, I don’t think so, get your butt down here and stretch with me.” I grunted through the rest of the held position.
“Nah thanks, I’m good.” He sat back, putting his hands behind his head, grinning from ear to ear. He looked good, too good. He had on jeans, nice-fitting jeans, not the baggy, hanging half-way down his butt. The jeans were perfect on him. He had on a fitted turquoise v-neck, tucked in, his sleeves folded and pushed to his elbows. The shirt was that thin-flimsy material that only well-built, muscle-y men could pull off. And he could certainly pull it off. He had a grey t-shirt under the turquoise shirt. The blue and gray shirts brought the blue out in his eyes. He was beautiful, mesmerizing really. Yummy.
> “I don’t think you understand Briggs Alexander. Get down here and stretch with me, young man.” I used my teacher look and voice. “Now.”
“Ah man, I came here to take you out, maybe get a drink, dance a little.” He was whiny and cute, as he pulled off his shirt. “I don’t wanna get all hot and sweaty.”
“Now Briggs, that disappoints me. Are you sure you’re not still planning on getting hot and sweaty with me tonight?” I got up and walked over to him, slowly. He was staring at me, wearing my sports bra and my boy-cut Victoria’s Secret tight, booty shorts.
“I mean, yeah, I wanna get hot and sweaty, but not by exercising.” He was still staring at me, taking in every inch of my body. His stare, the desire in his eyes, was enough to make me wet. I nibbled lightly on his ear, running my one fingernail down his chest and stomach. I stuck the tip of my tongue in his ear while my finger trailed below his waistline.
“Screw drinks and dancing, maybe we should stay right here,” he said with lust in his eyes, shaking his head.
“A big football player like you should know that exercise increases endorphins, which also increases one’s sex drive. Maybe with some more exercise, I’d want to take the wheel and drive a little.” I said as I undid his belt buckle, pulling the belt from around his waist. “Ya know, you’d be able to do more if you got outta those jeans. I’m feeling underdressed here.” Within seconds, his jeans were next to his shirt in a pile on the floor. He stood before me in his boxer briefs and gray tight t-shirt. I could get used to staring at him all day long. His build and skin were flawless. He looked like a sculpted art form, perfect in every way.