by Knox, Abby
And everyone within a one-mile radius of the school had to know exactly what I was thinking when I would stare at Ms. Moody.
“Delivery for a Mister McRae?” said the disinterested delivery person.
I shrank down in my seat, but Ms. Moody insisted I stand up. “Well, come and get your present, Mister McRae, and let’s get on with it. I can’t wait to hear your argument in…favor…of…”— checking my sheet that I turned in earlier—“mountaintop blasting. Jesus, Miles. You know what, we need some fresh air before we hear this. Everyone take a break and meet back here in five minutes. I might need a stiff drink,” she joked.
Everyone left to get some water or much needed sunshine while I lingered behind. Ms. Moody hunched over her desk, grading papers. She didn’t look up but she knew I was still there.
“Something I can help you with, Miles?”
I offered her a flirtatious tone in my lowest possible register. “Just wondered if you still wanted something stiff.”
She dropped her pen on her desk, removed her glasses and looked up at me. “Drink, Miles. I said a stiff drink.”
With that, she shocked me by opening her bottom desk drawer, rifling through a pile of confiscated items, and pulling out a flask. I watched, wide-eyed and thoroughly aroused, while she took one slug. She shuddered, from her head down to her spine, dabbing a drop from her lips and screwing the cap back on.
“May I? It’s my birthday,” I tried.
“You’re 18, not 21. So, no. And technically I was supposed to have dumped this out after confiscating it off a student but … well, it’s half decent scotch.”
I mused, “It’s weird how I can do all manner of things now but I still can’t drink legally in the U.S. Register for the military, vote, enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with fellow adults.”
Martha shuddered in revulsion at my phrasing. “‘Pleasures of the flesh’? First, do not ever say that again or you won’t be experiencing any of that for the rest of your life.”
I could not help but chuckle at her and swagger toward her desk.
As I drew closer, she warned, “Miles, this is not appropriate.” Her fierce composure wavered just a hint as her eyes darted toward the door.
I sat on the edge of her desk and she stood up and walked to the blackboard, writing out a list of current events for us to choose for our upcoming debate match.
“Ms. Moody, I’ve never kissed a girl before,” I blurted out, deciding it was time to bare my soul.
She turned and jutted out one hip, her skirt defining a luscious curve so dramatic it should be illegal. “I find that to be tragic. Surely there are dozens of young women at this school who find you attractive.” While it was a kind compliment, it made some strange snoozing animal composed of both lust and anger wake up inside me. She turned back to the blackboard in a manner than told me this conversation was over, making me drool over the sight of her ass in that skirt.
My voice dropped and my cock jerked, somehow spiking my confidence. “But none of them find me nearly as attractive as you do. I can feel it.” I was so close I could touch her. “None of them want to give me a happy birthday kiss as much as I know you do.”
She messed up a word and had to erase it. I stopped her hand halfway to the eraser and she dropped the chalk. It hit the floor and shattered. “Damn it, Miles.”
She tried to slip her hand away but I gripped it. “Leave it,” I said.
“Don’t give me orders, I don’t like it.”
I moved on to a different approach. “Ms. Moody. I’m sorry. May I just…look at you?”
She turned to me again, her back against the blackboard. I stepped closer. Her eyes watched me with the fierceness of a lioness, and I couldn’t tell if she was going to pounce or run away. I leaned so close that the material of my khaki trousers, tented by my erection, were brushing against the front of her wool skirt. Her slow, careful breathing caused the curve of her breast to lightly meet my shirt on her inhales. I lowered my face; her eyes went wide. First, all I did was inhale her ginger spice scent.
“Ms. Moody. May I just touch your face?”
She bit her bottom lip and gave the slightest of nods. My fingers automatically went to a lock of hair that came loose in a wispy tendril of fine hair in front of her ear. I stroked the baby fine hair before tucking it behind her ear. When the pad of my finger brushed the top of her ear, her face changed. Her cheeks pinked. She licked her lips.
“This is wrong, Miles,” she said, barely a whisper.
Out of nowhere, before I even knew what I was implying, I told her, “Then punish me.”
The little gasp from her made my cock tic with a fresh surge of warmth. My eyes went to her lips. She was about to say something but then both of us heard the clatter of shoes echoing down the hall, headed this way.
I slipped away from her like a dying leaf from a tree and didn’t make eye contact with her for the rest of practice.
* * *
I’m startled out of my trip down memory lane by a car honk behind me, and I compensate by revving my engine a little too loudly before popping the clutch and speeding back to my office.
7
Martha
I leave school early today because I can hardly keep my composure.
Staff meeting cancelled, I drive over to the setting of my best childhood memories for some guidance.
“Martha! What a nice surprise, but holy crap, you look terrible!” Katie says when she answers the door, cocking her head to the side with a worried look on her face.
“Auntie,” I say in reply, not waiting for her to invite me in.
“Come in, I guess,” Katie says sarcastically but with a grin. “I’ll put on the coffee.”
I sigh heavily and collapse on her sofa. This is the only place I am allowed to look weak. The only place I feel like I’m allowed to be myself. “Better make it herbal tea. I’m already too jittery.”
Moments later, Katie sets down a cup of chamomile tea on the coffee table in front of me.
“All right, what’s the drama, Headmistress Moody? Tell Sister Katherine,” she sighs, plopping down next to me.
Just then, her husband, Dean, saunters through from his back office to the kitchen with a side commentary. “Hey, the nun roleplay is only for the bedroom, Katie.”
I choke on my herbal tea and have to set it down and stick my fingers in my ears. “Gross.”
Katie laughs and holds her belly.
“Well I’m sorry to dampen the mood but I came here with bad news.”
Katie pets my hair and says, “You haven’t looked this gloomy since that time with your student…”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” I say, holding up my hand. “The bad news involves ‘that student,’ too. You see, the Chamberlains are being represented by that student.”
Katie’s mouth flies open, and she looks ready to rumble on my behalf. “Hold my earrings.”
“No, no. I can’t let you get involved in this dispute.”
“Is it about the statue of Mary?”
I nod, sipping my tea.
“What are you going to do?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I can’t afford a lawyer.”
“The school will take care of you. They pay into a legal pool with other private schools; they will get you legal help.”
“I don’t want legal help. I want this to go away and for the Chamberlains to eat shit.”
She pulls a face at my language. Which is funny, because I learned to cuss from her. “Besides,” I add, “I don’t want the school to pay for this. It was my decision to have it removed. Mine alone, with the blessing of the school board. And a lawyer hired by the school is going to tell me to settle. And I’m not going to settle. I just need to vent.”
Now Dean has come back out and joined us in the living room. I eye him, but ultimately I know I can trust him with this information.
Katie sighs. “Miles McRae. I always knew he was a little twerp!”
I shake my head
.
“No, you didn’t. You change your story about him daily depending on my mood. It’s not like that. He’s new to the firm, he wasn’t given a choice.”
My aunt is not having it. “But still. I mean…I thought…I’m just going to say it.”
“What?”
Katie twists her hands together. “Well, I always sort of thought you and Miles would end up together and now this throws a wrench into everything.”
I goggle at her. “Why would you think that?”
“Because he was so clearly in love with you, even after you pushed him away again and again. Remember how you came to me crying on graduation day because of how conflicted you were?”
“Katie,” I say, aghast. “You know I could have lost my job…”
She dismisses me. “I know, I know. I didn’t mean you should have hit that when he was still in school. I mean…you didn’t hit that, did you? Tell me you didn’t hit that?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, I didn’t. And please stop making me listen to my sixty-something ex-nun aunt use the phrase ‘hit that.’”
Dean laughs. I point a finger at him. “No smart-ass comments from you, mister.”
Dean puts up his hands in surrender. Although I act put out by their cutesy behavior together, my aunt’s happiness in retirement with the love of her life does make me a bit envious.
“He kissed me, that’s all,” I say.
“And you kissed him back, at least that was the story you told me eight years ago,” Katie says.
I sip my tea and fidget with the string attached to the bag. “I can’t believe you remember it was exactly eight years ago,” I say, shaking my head.
Katie shrugs and picks off some lint from my sweater. “Well, I’ve been wondering when Miles would come back to town. Hoping he would. I guess my prayers were answered.”
I scoff. “Did you forget the part where he’s opposing counsel? Oh, and might I add, he visited me at school today to tell me that he’s going to throw the case. He’s not trying to get me to settle. He is actually going to actively work against his client, risking his job, his reputation, just because—get this—he wants to protect me.”
Katie’s eyes nearly pop out of her head and she clutches her chest. She looks over at Dean. “Are you hearing this? That’s so romantic! Eight years in the making! Oh, I knew he was a good guy!”
Dean gives a gentle nod. “Baller move if you ask me. He definitely loves you.”
I stand and swallow my herbal tea in one gulp, then hurry over to the kitchen sink to wash it a little too aggressively. “I was coming over here to wallow but I see now that was misguided,” I say when I hear Katie following me into the kitchen.
Dean follows us in, takes the mug out of my hands, and places it in the dishwasher for me. “Thing is, you shouldn’t have told us anything about who the Chamberlains’ attorney is, or what he told you. Katie and I could be subpoenaed. The Chamberlains, or their parents, tried to remove Katie back in the day. Just because they lost 30 years ago doesn’t mean we’re not in their crosshairs anymore.”
I definitely remember that time in our lives. It was because of Katie that I had at first thought I wanted to be a nun. The celibacy part had always appealed to me, for reasons I couldn’t explain other than I was terrified when I learned how babies were made.
I leave my aunt’s house after getting what I came for: a big, rib-cracking hug from her that forces me to feel my feelings.
After Miles graduated, I felt so much shame about my feelings for him that I swore off men altogether. Eight years later, and I’m still a virgin.
I thought I was fine with that.
But now that he’s back in my life, I’m starting to rethink that decision. Or, at least, my heart—not to mention my body—is telling me to rethink that decision.
If only my brain could get the message to the rest of me that he’s still off limits…only in a totally different kind of way.
8
Miles
Standing in line at the local coffee shop the next morning, the familiar scent of ginger teases my senses.
Whirling my head around, I see her.
I wave awkwardly, smiling too widely. “Martha!”
Her eyes lock on me and her mouth forms an O shape that I find endearing and also sexy as hell.
I step out of line to join her.
“But you were next in line,” she says, gesturing to the counter.
“Meh,” I say. “I’m not in a hurry.”
“Since when are attorneys not in a hurry?” she points out.
I smile down at her. “Since I sensed a disturbance in the force and suddenly being on time to work didn’t matter.”
She glances down at her hands. “Miles.”
“Look at me.”
Startled by my abruptness, she furrows her brow when her eyes find me again, her cheeks flushed.
“You always told me to keep making eye contact with people in the room, to help me bust through that fear. You never showed fear. What are you afraid of with me?”
“Nothing. I’m not afraid of anything.”
As ever, Martha puts up a good front. “The Chamberlains aren’t going to get a red cent out of you…”
“It’s not the money I’m worried about. I mean, sure, that would be terrible to lose money. But I’m an educator, I don’t exactly have a lot to lose. If they win, do you think they’re going to get blood out of a stone?” she says.
It’s killing me to see her work so hard to show me how okay she is.
“But you love the job. You must be worried about losing it,” I say, trying to get through to her.
She squares her shoulders. “I’m afraid of someone seeing us chatting like old pals. Aren’t you breaking some kind of attorney-client privilege right now by talking about the case to the defendant?”
“Only if you point it out to everyone in the coffee line,” I say, grinning. “Here, take my card. Call me and we’ll talk.”
She shakes her head at me but can’t hide the smile that pulls at the corner of her lips. “Isn’t that what you are supposed to do with your own client? Talk?”
I lower my voice and speak slowly, mere inches from her ear, so only she can hear the words.
“I lied. I don’t want to talk. I want to finish what we started eight years ago.”
Martha’s cheeks blaze, and it’s oddly humbling to know I have that effect on her. I fear if she knew the physiological effects she had on me right now, it might be too much for her.
My phone beeps at me, breaking my momentary trance. I look down at the screen and we both see it—a text from my assistant.
Chamberlain is waiting for you. Please get here quickly. He’s creeping me out.
Apologizing to Martha, I leave without coffee and hurry my ass to the office. But not before I turn to tell her, “I mean it. Call me tonight.”
My assistant is correct. Mr. Chamberlain is sitting in my waiting area looking a little bit like a creep. I see him before he sees me and changes his face. What is he doing staring at my assistant like that? Like a predator.
I don’t know what’s more disturbing. That look he was giving her, or how quickly he changed his face when he realized he’d been caught ogling her.
“Ed, won’t you step into my office,” I say, rushing past him to unlock my office door.
He follows and immediately starts on a rant about Martha.
I put my hand up to quiet him until I can close the door behind us.
“Do you know what she did now?”
Seeing as I just saw her not ten minutes ago, I’m pretty sure the answer is nothing.
“No, what?”
“Well it should be your job to know. You need to hire a private investigator if you can’t do your job.”
“I’m sorry, you lost me,” I say.
“I just got off the phone with one of my construction managers who volunteers for me to build sets for the drama department…”
My brain tak
es a moment to absorb this. He uses his staff to volunteer at the school on his behalf. Got it.
He continues, “She’s taking away the winter musical and letting the drama club do some other play that nobody’s ever heard of instead.”
I shrug. “So?”
“So, do you know what the play is they’re doing?”
“Do I need to sit down for this?”
“If you have any kind of moral compass, you do,” Chamberlain says, pounding his fist on my desk.
“I’m an attorney. I don’t have a moral compass, just billable hours.”
“What?” He looks genuinely confused.
“That was a joke. Go on.”
“Well those drama kids are writing it themselves and word on the street is, it’s gonna have gays in it.”
I bite my tongue and work hard to look like I’m nodding thoughtfully, even though I really don’t want to know what else he has to say on the matter. Word on the street? What street? Who else could possibly care about any of this but Chamberlain and his tiny band of cronies?
He continues, “And it’s perversion. Teaching kids all kinds of things they’re too young for.”
“Such as?”
“Gay sex!” He seems incredulous that I’m not also horrified.
I raise my eyebrows. “You’re telling me that high school kids are going to be having sex? On stage? Certainly then, that’s public indecency. Call the police immediately,” I say, sort of admiring the fact that I can say any of this with a straight face.
“Well, I don’t think it’s gonna go that far. But there’s gonna be kissing and talking about gay stuff.” He doesn’t even realize I’m making fun of him. I almost feel sorry for him.
I lean back in my chair and study him for a moment while I click my pen. “I fail to see what about this made you want to pay me for another hour of my time,” I say.
He grunts and says, “I want to add it on to the lawsuit. Like an addendum or something.”
Exasperated and now really wanting this case to disappear more than anything, I tell him, “Sir, I would advise you against making a big deal about this. It’s only going to be seen as censorship. If there’s nothing more in the content of the play than the kind of kissing that children would see in a Disney princess movie, then I’m sorry, we are not suing anybody over that.”