by Jenna Rose
“So strong,” she mused as she washed my chest. “You should have dressed up for Halloween too.”
“Yeah? Who do you think I should have been?”
“Hercules?” she suggested. “Or maybe Achilles? You put Brad Pitt to shame in that movie he did.”
“I don’t think that would go over well in the neighborhood,” I chuckled as she traced my abs with the loofah.
“Yeah, you might get the housewives all fired up,” she replied. “We’d have a riot on our hands.”
“We almost had one with you in that witch costume. What were you doing in something like that with all these young, horny boys around?”
“My sister bought it for me,” Emily sighed as she squeezed suds across my shoulders. “It was the last one and she really wanted us to be witches together, so I stuffed myself into it.”
“I stuffed myself into you,” I teased, pecking her on the lips.
“You can say that again,” she smiled, kissing me back. “Maybe we should call you Achilles and him Hercules!”
I should have laughed, but I couldn’t. Something had come over me. Maybe it was the after-effects of what we’d just done, maybe it was the intimacy we had shared and were sharing now as we washed each other, or maybe it had been a long time coming and I was just starting to realize it now.
She looked back at me, and I saw the understanding in her eyes. We both knew what was happening. This was more than just us acting out a teacher-student fantasy we both shared. It was more than an older man with a sexy teenage witch who’d come to his door looking for sweets.
It was everything.
“I love you, Emily,” I said softly. I kissed her. She whimpered as our lips met and fell into me. I held her in my arms and squeezed her tight, letting her know she would always be mine, always be safe with me.
“I love you too…” she replied quietly. “I—I can’t believe I’m saying it, but—”
“It just feels so right?”
She nodded excitedly. “Yes. Exactly. It just feels so right. You have a way with words, Mr. Cox. You sure you aren’t a writer too?”
“I’m a man of many talents,” I joked. “And please—call me Dylan from now on. Or baby.”
“What if I want to call you Mr. Cox in the bedroom?” she asked slyly.
“Then I won’t stop you,” I replied. “As long as you’ll wear that witch outfit for me every Halloween.”
“It’s a deal!” she giggled. “And I just can’t wait for you to teach me more.”
“You belong to me now, Emily,” I said. “And I belong to you, and I’ll never stop teaching you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Emily
I was absolutely glowing as I made my way home, keeping to the shadows of the trees so no one would see me in my skimpy witch outfit. My whole body was on fire and my head was spinning. It might sound crazy—to be sure you were in love that quickly—but there was no denying what I was feeling.
I guess maybe I had known, deep down, that Dylan was more than just a cute teacher I liked to flirt with. But it had taken me months to realize that there was more to it—so much more.
When Margie had brought me to his house and he’d opened the door, I’d been spun for a loop. Now I was completely head over heels. I’d only gone out for some candy, but I’d found the sweetest man in the world and come home with his love.
It had been staring us both in the face and I thought back to the last day of school when I’d stayed after class to talk to him. I didn’t know it then, but I’d really wanted him to do something.
Of course he hadn’t; he was a responsible, good man that knew his boundaries. He’d waited, and I’d gone off to college, and a chance encounter had brought us together again.
Chance? I thought as I climbed back up to my bedroom window and slid inside. No. Destiny.
“Look who it is!”
I almost jumped out of my skin as Margie, who had been sitting in the darkness, flipped on my bedroom lamp and smiled at me like she’d just caught me robbing a bank.
“Jesus, Margie!” I hissed. “Just because it’s Halloween it doesn’t mean you have to scare me like that!”
“I was just waiting for you to get back,” she smiled. “I don’t even have to ask you where you went.”
I sighed. I guess there was no point in hiding it from her now. Everyone was going to find out sooner or later.
“Fine,” I said as I switched out of my witch’s dress into a pair of sweatpants and a SpongeBob t-shirt. “I was over at Dylan’s house.”
“Dylan?” she teased. “Not Mr. Cox?”
“Dylan,” I repeated as I sat down on the bed beside her. “Yes, we’re on a first name basis now.”
“And why’s that?” she asked.
“Because we—we did it, Margie,” I said. It felt like such an incredible relief telling her. “I—I gave my virginity to him and it was incredible! God, he’s so amazing.”
“I hope you’re joking,” she replied.
I laughed. “I’m not. God, I even told him I loved him! He said it too!”
“Please, Emily,” Margie said, suddenly serious. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not joking, Margie,” I replied. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I knew my sister well enough to know when she was messing with me and this wasn’t one of those times. There was something on her mind and I felt a pit begin to form in my stomach.
“You…need to see this,” she said as she pulled out her phone. She opened the Facebook app and pointed to a post shared by one of her friends, the original posted by Mrs. Arrington, a teacher at our school. Something sank inside me and a surge of adrenaline ran through me. I started to sweat as I read the post.
Normally, I let things like this go, but I can’t keep silent any longer. Mr. Dylan Cox, math teacher at Greenville High, has made sexually inappropriate advances on me several times while at school. Not only would he make crude jokes to me and look at me in ways that made me uncomfortable, but would also go out of his way to cause “accidental” contact between us, whether that meant brushing into me in the hall or “bumping into me.” This all culminated in him sexually assaulting me in the teachers’ lounge. I have kept silent, I guess to maintain the status quo, but I can no longer allow this to continue, especially considering the fact that I have heard multiple reports of him being inappropriate with his female students. I am considering taking legal action.
It felt like my heart was about to break. I realized I wasn’t breathing and gasped and clutched my chest. I could feel Margie’s eyes on me as I started to panic.
“I—I need to be alone,” I said.
“Are you sure—?”
“Yes, Margie!” I shouted. “Get out of here!”
Margie got up and opened the door. She turned back to me and gave me a sad look.
“I’m sorry, I just thought you should know.”
She closed the door behind her, just as the tears began to pour from my eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
Emily
How could I have been so stupid!? I thought as I curled up on my bed, my breath catching in my chest and sobs choking their way out of my mouth. My heart hurt, like it had been frozen and was about to shatter into a thousand pieces.
Multiple reports of him being inappropriate with his female students…
I’d been so terrified of that having happened. The idea of me being just another starry-eyed high school girl who had the hots for her teacher was a reality that was too much to bear. Instantly images of other girls being washed and shaved by Mr. Cox flashed through my mind.
I curled up helplessly on the bed as I thought back to every interaction I’d ever had with Mr. Cox since I started in his class. Had he ever given me any inappropriate looks? Had I ever seen him giving the eye to any of the other girls?
Not that I could remember.
Had he ever accidentally touched me or brushed by me or anything like that?
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No.
It just didn’t make any sense. How could someone who seemed so sweet and so genuine be a horrible monster like what Mrs. Arrington was describing? And to be honest, Mrs. Arrington was a pretty terrible teacher who had never liked me. When I was in her class, it always felt like she was behaving like my older sister that thought she was better than me.
In fact, she acted like that around most of the girls. She was like Regina George from Mean Girls—always saying nice things but giving off that vibe that she didn’t really mean it.
Was it…was it possible she was lying?
Part of me felt really bad about questioning an allegation of sexual assault from another woman, but another, bigger part of me believed that Dylan wasn’t a monster and that I knew who he was. This just couldn’t be true and I wasn’t about to throw away everything that had happened between us because of one Facebook post.
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I leapt off my bed and stormed down the hall and burst into Margie’s room.
“Have any other girls replied to that post!?” I asked her.
“Uh, yeah—”
“Any of them saying the same things as Mrs. A.?” I snapped. Margie was clearly following the post and began scrolling through.
“Umm...not that I see,” she said slowly. “A few girls are saying how nice he is—Jenny Rintel said that he gave her an angry look and sent her to the principal’s office when she wore a sports bra to class, but I mean—come on…”
“So no one is supporting her allegations?” I asked. “Saying that he harassed them or whatever?”
“Doesn’t look like it,” Margie replied. “But the post is blowing up. Everyone in town must have seen it by now.”
“Does Mrs. A. still live over on Maple Drive?” I asked.
“I think so,” Margie replied.
I turned around and raced back to my room and grabbed a pair of sneakers. Margie came in behind me.
“You’re not thinking about going over there, are you?”
“Oh, I’m going!” I replied as I went back to my window and slid my legs out.
“Are you insane, Emily? You can’t go over to a teacher’s house in the middle of the night!”
“I’m not insane, Margie. I’m in love,” I replied. “And Mrs. Arrington isn’t my teacher anymore, and I’ll do whatever I please!”
And with that, I slid out the window onto the porch roof and leapt off onto the lawn. Like I was back on the track team, I started off for Maple Drive. It wasn’t a long run from my parents’ house, and by the time I reached Mrs. A.’s house, the cool autumn air had me feeling invigorated and ready for anything.
I wasn’t about to take these accusations against Dylan lying down. I had to do something, and I had a plan—whether or not it was going to work was the real question.
Three zombie dog puppets greeted me with motion-triggered growls as I came up the steps, and I was so emotional that I almost kicked them off the steps. But I kept myself under control, checked my phone and knocked. It didn’t take long for Mrs. Arrington to come to the door.
“Emily?” she asked. “Is that you?”
It was clear that Mrs. A. had gone for the bombshell Halloween costume and had probably dressed up like a sexy teacher or a Charlie’s Angel or something like that. She was wearing yoga pants and a halter top but still had her face caked in make-up and her hair in a perm.
“That’s me,” I replied. “I just saw your Facebook post about Mr. Cox.”
“Oh, yes. Are…are you all right?”
“Can I come in?” I asked.
“Of course!” Mrs. A. let me inside and we sat down facing each other across her coffee table.
“I—this is hard for me to say,” I said slowly. “But Mr. Cox has done something to me.”
“Oh, no!” Mrs. A. replied. “Sweetie, are you okay—”
“It’s not like that,” I said quickly. “It’s just...I was up for a scholarship at my college and all Mr. Cox had to do was write me a letter of recommendation, but he told me that he wouldn’t because I wasn’t a ‘good student’ in class. But he said it in that way that made me feel like he might be implying something, you know?”
“I do know,” Mrs. A. replied, her eyes lighting up like I’d just given her good news. “Would you like to tell your story, hon?”
“I don’t know if I am ready to go public or anything,” I replied. “I just—I wanted to let you know and get your advice.”
“I think you should,” she said quickly. “The more girls who come forward, the quicker his punishment will be.”
“Did he really do those things he did?” I asked sheepishly. “I don’t mean to not believe you, I just—”
“It’s hard to believe,” Mrs. Arrington replied. “But yes, he did. He sexually assaulted me in the cafeteria after school and that was the final straw.”
The cafeteria? Didn’t she say the teacher’s lounge before?
A sudden weight lifted off of my chest, and as I stared at her, I knew she was lying. Something had happened between them and she was out for blood—out to ruin him. All I needed was proof.
“So—I don’t want to sound like I don’t believe you, but if I’m going to come forward, I need to make sure that—”
“That I’m not lying?” she interrupted. There was an anger behind her eyes that simply further confirmed what I already knew. “Why would I lie about this, Emily? What would I possibly have to gain? Why don’t you just tell me what happened to you and I will post it for you. I can tag you if you’d like?”
I nodded. “Okay. But let me write it up and I’ll send it to you, okay? I want it to be in my words.”
“Of course, darling,” Mrs. A. said with such condescension in her voice that I wanted to throw up. “You just send it to me when you are ready, but the sooner the better. We want to make sure this monster gets what’s coming to him.”
Monster?!
It took all my strength to not reach out and slap her smug little face. But I didn’t; I got to my feet, smiled and politely excused myself.
She was lying. I was certain—just as certain as I was that Dylan was a good man and that I loved him. All I had to do now was prove it.
Chapter Fifteen
Mr. Cox
I stared in disbelief at Mrs. Arrington’s Facebook post that had spread like wildfire across our town in the last half hour. Everyone must have seen it by now, and I already knew what the consequences would be: my career was over.
Not only that, my reputation was forever ruined. No doubt this story would go viral, or at least national. News stations loved a scandal and the public seemed to as well. I’d have to resign before they fired me and probably move across the country. I doubted I’d ever be able to teach math again either.
Part of me wanted to respond to the post—get my side of the story out there and tell them about how Mrs. Arrington had consistently come on to me and put my hand under her skirt rather than it being the other way around—but I doubted anyone would believe me. Also, there was the chance that me replying would only piss Mrs. Arrington off even more and cause her to escalate the situation.
I slammed my laptop shut and tossed it onto my bed then stormed downstairs and began pacing around my living room.
“Fuck!” I roared. “Fuck!”
I should have gone to the principal with this when it happened. What the fuck was wrong with me? At least then I would have something on record to defend myself with—a report detailing Mrs. Arrington’s harassment that I could post for everyone to see. At least then the school might be on my side. As it was now, I was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.
Losing my job was going to be a big blow, and my reputation being forever smeared was another, but neither of those things was as devastating as knowing that Emily was going to see this (if she hadn’t already).
I’d waited so long to make her mine, and now this. What was she going to think? Even if she had faith in me, her family would never allow her to be
with me. It was already a stretch for an older guy like me to be with her, especially after having been her teacher. That was scandal enough for a small town like ours, but it was consensual and people would eventually accept it.
Her parents would never accept her being in a relationship with a disgraced, accused sexual predator.
I reached for my phone and started to type an e-mail to her. I had to explain myself—I had to at least do that if I was never going to see her again, but just as I began typing, my door burst open and Emily rushed inside.
“Emily!” I exclaimed.
“Dylan!” She threw herself into my arms and I knew instantly that she believed in me, and the adrenaline that had been screaming through my veins began to subside. I held her warm, soft body, buried my nose in her hair and inhaled, losing myself in her scent.
“You know…” I said softly.
“She’s a liar,” Emily hissed. “And I have proof.”
“Proof!?” I asked. She smiled and nodded vigorously. I let her down and she pulled out her phone and opened Facebook.
“Look what I just posted. I replied to her post and I posted it on my page and people are already starting to share it!”
My heart was racing as she scrolled to her reply on Mrs. Arrington’s original post.
Oh, really, Mrs. A? Have anything to say about this?
Beneath, there was a video. My heart was ready to tear out of my chest as Emily pressed the play button.
At first I was confused; It looked like someone outside filming through somebody’s window, but I quickly understood. Mrs. Arrington entered frame, a cellphone pressed to her face, an enormous smile plastered across her face.
“Oh, he’s fucked!” she laughed. “Mr. Cox is fucked. One of his students just came to my house and told me he said something to her that we can totally use to make him sound guilty. People will believe anything these days!”