The Society

by Michelle Brown

  Pulling his arm back, his brows furrow in what appears as confusion. "This wasn't some ploy to get out of schoolwork?"

  "What?" I ask a little too loudly, and some of my classmates shush me. I ignore them, turning a stern gaze on the teacher, offended he'd even consider I'd do something like that. "No, of course not."

  His body relaxes as though me trying to get out of schoolwork was such a burden for him. He thumbs through the pages and says, "This is a five-thousand-dollar book, I'd expect you'd get in quite some trouble if it were lost. You may want to consider an ebook for the rest of the class."

  His knowledge of the book's value doesn't surprise me, as an English Lit teacher, but the way he appreciates holding something so valuable in his hand, like its worth its weight in gold, says a lot about him.

  My parents could quickly drop five-grand in an hour without a second thought, and they wouldn't give a shit about this book. Not like I do and most definitely not the way Mr. Harrington does.

  He presents it to me once again, and I grip the edge, but he doesn't let go. Our eyes lock. Everything around me goes silent; papers rustling, the low chatter of students exiting the room as they finish their quizzes, and even the appreciative stare I'm getting from Quinn, all of it moves to the back of my mind.

  In my world, at this very moment, is only Mr. Harrington and me.

  Chapter Six

  Winston Asher Harrington

  Never has a student made me react the way I am now. Her brown eyes peer into my very soul. Leaving me feeling vulnerable and speechless. Tutoring her is going to be a challenge for that very reason. I'm not sure why I'd even suggested it. I could take the money her parents offered, but that's not ethical, and I don't need the money.

  I genuinely feel this young woman has talent, but there's a strong possibility someone like her, a society child, would never need anything I can teach, other than forcing her to work hard and earn her grade.

  Releasing the book, I give her one last reminder, "Don't forget, today after class, is our first session."

  Her lips part as if she's about to say something, but she must change her mind and nods instead. I acknowledge her by tapping her desk with my fingers then head back to the front of the class, where I can hide my traitorous dick behind my desk before anyone notices her effect on me.

  The rest of the class time goes by quickly.

  On occasion, I'd chance a glance at Harlyn. I tell myself it was to make sure she was reading, but deep down, I know it's more than that. There's something about her pulling me in. Something different, I just can't put my finger on it. I'd love to put fingers on all of her.

  Yesterday when I'd dropped the tutoring suggestion, and she'd called me sir, I was sure my composure would be lost. The innocent way it had rolled off her lips started a chain reaction of need I should never feel about one of my students.

  I'm not into hard-core BDSM or anything even at the intermediate level, but I've dabbled a little and enjoy watching. I expect her use of the title set off desires I hadn't realized were lurking just below the surface in the back of my mind. It makes me wonder if I should reconsider tutoring her. No, I'm a professional. I've been dealing with students for four years. Some of whom have been incredibly attractive and aggressively interested in me, but I was able to resist their advances. I can surely control myself around an introvert such as Harlyn.

  The afternoon bell buzzes, pulling my attention from my thoughts, and I realize I've been staring at her the entire time. Luckily the classroom is almost empty. The only stragglers are students who were still reading but now closing up their books and gathering their things to leave.

  Quinn leans in and says something to Harlyn that makes her cheeks tint before she picks up her things and saunters past my desk.

  I have ways of making her blush like that. It entails having her strip naked, right here in the classroom. Maybe, while I sit and watch, then once her cheeks are the perfect shade, I'd bend her over the desk, flip her skirt up over her back, and smack her ass until her bottom cheeks were the same color. Fuck! Asher, get your fucking mind out of the gutter. She's your student.

  "Have a good evening, Winston," Quinn says, pulling my attention away from her friend as she exits through the door. Her grin is as wide as her face.

  I rub a hand through my hair. Hoping it serves as a distraction from the inappropriate thoughts playing on my mind. When I finally focus back on the classroom, there's only Harlyn and myself left.

  I look at her, and she back at me, my dick twitches. I need to get my reaction under control. Closing my eyes for a moment and thinking rational non-sexual thoughts, I'm able to control the adrenaline coursing through me enough that I can move around to the front of the desk and sit on its edge. "Ok, Harlyn, before we get started, I want to make sure we agree on the rules of how this will work."

  "Ok." She says, her voice tiny and barely audible. "Can I ask a question first?"

  "Sure," I reply cautiously, wondering what her question could be.

  "Is there any way we could do this in say a setting that is…not the school?"

  My brows furrow, and my thoughts dip into the gutter again. Is she asking because she's having these feelings too? Maybe she wants to meet somewhere a little less formal. No, I'm reading too much into it. "It depends, what are your reasons for wanting to meet somewhere other than the school?"

  She lets out a deep breath. "I just don't want anyone from class to know I'm being…tutored. You don't know how hard it is when they tease. It's very emotionally draining and probably would distract from my studies. Popularity is everything here at Silvercrest High Mr. Harrington. One negative comment spread from say, someone like Catarina and I might as well switch schools."

  Her last sentence hits me like a brick to the face. I wouldn't want anything to happen that would make Harlyn leave.

  What the fuck? Where did that thought come from?

  "Hmm, let me give it some thought. For today lets just work through the lesson I'd planned, and then tomorrow we can decide what venue may work for the rest of the sessions. Deal?"

  "Deal." She says, her face lighting.

  That expression is something I'd love to see daily, and while I don't want that smile to disappear, I know she needs to understand the rules. "Ok, so how this will work is, every day after class, you and I will meet for an hour. There will be no exceptions for missing Harlyn. If you're going to be late or you can't make it due to unforeseen circumstances, you must let me know beforehand, and they must be dire. Understand?"

  "Circumstances must be dire. Got it." She huffs out.

  "You'll have homework. I expect it to be completed by the next day if we don't finish in class. And lastly, I expect you to put in an effort. I'm taking time out of my afternoon to help you. If you're not planning on trying, then there's the door. Just know, walking out is an automatic D grade. Do you agree with these terms, Miss Aldridge?"

  She looks to the door as though she's contemplating leaving but must decide not too because she opens her book, and her eyes lift to mine. "Yes, I agree. Where do we start?"

  "That's my girl." I unintentionally blurt out then instantly regret when her eyes widen and her lips part. "Ahem, let's start with the last scene you read."

  "Ok, I believe it was Act IV scene V." She opens the book where the bookmark holds her place, and I close in on her desk, intent on confirming with her.

  Her eyes lift to mine.

  No longer thinking about tutoring, my thoughts owned by everything, Harlyn. From the chocolate brown orbs teasing my soul as they dance between mine to her pouty bow lips that don't touch completely when her mouth is closed, I can't resist any longer. I take her dainty chin in my palm and lean in until my lips are only a breath from hers. "I want to taste your lips, Harlyn."

  She shivers beneath my touch, and her eyes close.

  I know it's her answer, but I need to hear her say it. "Tell me to stop. Tell me you don't want this."

  "I can't." She says, before
wrapping an arm around my neck and pulling me against her.

  Shock is what registers in my mind first. The way she takes control unsettles me, throwing me off my game but only for a moment. Once her tongue glides over my bottom lip, my fingers tangle in her hair, and I take back control. I am devouring her mouth like a man on death row, eating his last meal.

  At this moment, no one else exists. The school, my family, this town, everything around me fades into oblivion. It's only Harlyn and I. A forbidden pair coming together without regard for the consequences.

  The three-thirty bell rings, and it's like an electric shock breaking our connection. Breathing heavily, I drop my forehead to hers and decide my next move. "Maybe you can read the rest at home."

  She nods her head against me but doesn't say another word while pulling away and gathering her things. It's as though she's ashamed of what she's done.

  I'm not letting her leave like this. "Harlyn, are you ok?"

  Ignoring me, she stands and prepares to move toward the door. As though a flip has is switched, but I'm not sure why.

  "Look at me," I command, gripping her arm, keeping her from leaving. My breath catches at what I see when she does. A single tear has escaped down her cheek, and I fear I've hurt her somehow. Pulling her against me, she drops her books to the floor and wraps her arms around me, sobbing into my shirt.

  I smooth a hand over the back of her head and stand, quietly while she releases whatever it is, she's feeling. This reaction is more significant than what we've just done. This is something kept bottled up inside for quite some time. Disheartened at the fact that no one saw this coming yet honored that she chose me to expose this side of herself.

  "I-I'm sorry." She mutters, her voice cracking through sobs.

  "Shhh, it's ok. Let it out. Get it all out."

  When her sobs begin to wane, she leans back and plucks at my wet wrinkled shirt. "I'm really am sorry. Is it ruined?"

  I glance down at where her hand's rest, chuckling softly. "No, it's durable and made to last. Even if it were, I wouldn't care." I tell her while wrapping my arms around her waist and placing a kiss on her cheek. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  Her red-rimmed eyes lift to mine and it feels like forever before she answers. I imagine she's debating on if she can trust me. She can, no matter what it is, but I can't make that decision for her, so I remain quiet.

  "Raincheck? I'm not sure I'm quite ready yet." She says, placing a hand on my cheek.

  "You know where to find me."

  She nods and pulls away, gathering her things and heading toward the door, pausing only long enough to give me a longing glance before she steps through.

  The breath I was holding, finally escapes and I drop to a nearby desk. What in the fuck have I just done? "So much for self-control Asher," I tell myself, running a hand over my face before lowering my eyes to where she'd just been sitting. That's when I see it.

  Her copy of Hamlet.

  Is it an invitation, maybe to drop by her home?

  Or did she truly forget?

  If it's the latter, I may be lifting that skirt of hers after all.

  Chapter Seven

  Winston Asher Harrington

  I never returned the book to her last night. Instead, I wanted to see her reaction after not having it all evening. Especially after what happened yesterday.

  I gave Harlyn's question about changing where the tutoring could take place, some thought, and during a moment of alone time in class, we decided on the town library. It's where I'm heading now.

  The building is just on the outskirts of town and erected in honor of the Harrington family in the early 1900s.

  Teaching the Society children has been the role of women in the Harrington family for generations, but I'm the exception. I wasn't interested in the family real estate business and had my heart set on teaching, but my father disapproved. No son of his would ever be standing in front of a class, teaching a room full of snot-nosed overly privileged children. "I'm one of those over-privileged kids, dad." I'd told him, and it had earned me a slap in the face. He essentially forced my hand into his business by threatening my cash flow. If I pursued teaching, my funds would be cut-off.

  Fortunately for me, he died. My mother recognized how miserable I was and made sure I got what I needed to become who I am today, a male teacher who right now is heading to give yet another student my undivided attention. Hoping I can push aside thoughts of her tiny body in that school uniform and keep my dick under control.

  When I arrive, I park in the Reserved – Harrington Family parking spot and head into the building.

  The interior is what you'd expect from a library. The scent of pages covered in words is the first thing that hits you. Next is the overwhelming rows of books after books stacked neatly all around the room with pockets of reading spaces here and there.

  What's unique about this library are the public rooms offset from the main book area where visitors can meet or just have some private space. I chose a secluded place for Harlyn and me. Not only will it squash her fears of being seen by any classmates but also reduce any distractions.

  "Hi, Mr. Harrington." Our resident librarian greets.

  "Tasha." I offer her a nod and then realize I'm not sure where I'm going. "Can you point me in the direction of the Mesa Verde room? It's been some time since I've been here."

  "Sure, Mr. Harrington, this way." She tells me, and I follow.

  When we reach the room, I notice the door is ajar, and I peek through the glass. There sits Harlyn wringing her fingers and squirming in her seat. The earlier idea I had about refraining from sexual thoughts flutter right out the window.

  "Anything else, Mr. Harrington?"

  "No thanks Tasha, I've got it from here," I say, not looking back at her because all my focus is on the girl waiting nervously on the other side.

  It's times like these I wonder if I should've listened and stuck with real estate. If I'd met Harlyn while showing a house, at a coffee shop, or anywhere else at least then, the thoughts I've been having wouldn't be inappropriate, and potentially risk losing my job. I just need to get through this week.

  I step through the door.

  Her eyes lift to mine, her expression. I offer her a smile, and she relaxes, returning the same.

  "Harlyn I want to apologize, what happened yesterday--,"

  With a raised hand, she stops me, "You don't need to apologize. You didn't do anything I didn't want. But this isn't how I want to get my grade, Mr. Harrington. I want to earn it. I know I can."

  She's saying everything I want to hear, including her earning her grade. My mind quickly flits to how she could do that on her knees. Maybe if I taped pages of literature across my stomach, the thought brings a chuckle that I mask as clearing my throat. "It's interesting you say that since I found this… on your desk yesterday."

  Her smile goes wide and somehow turns mischievous. "That's for you."

  "What do you mean it's for me?"

  She raises her e-reader and shows me her copy of Hamlet before nodding back to the book in my hand. "Go on, open it."

  Just on the inside of the cover is a folded note. I glance back to her, and she nods. Cautiously I unfold the paper and read the contents aloud. "Mr. Harrington. I could see your appreciation for books goes beyond that of even a collector. No one has ever shown an interest in helping me achieve anything, and for that, I'm incredibly grateful. Please accept this $5847 copy of Hamlet as a way of showing my appreciation.

  Sincerely, Francis Harlyn Aldridge."

  I extend my hand out to her, "I can't accept this."

  She jumps up and comes around the table. Pushing the book and my hands against my chest. "You can, and you will." She says. "Please let me just do this for you."

  I place the book on the table behind and pull her in. "Thank you." It's all I manage to get out before my lips crash down on hers.

  All it took was just one taste, and now I can't get enough. Her presence alone makes my mind
and my body weak. If we don't stop this now, there's no telling how it might end up. I pull away.

  She touches her lips as though the assault was just too much, but then she smiles. "That's the best thank you I've ever gotten."

  I offer her a grin back and then smack her on the ass. "Take a seat and let's get started. We're not learning sex ed, you know."

  "Oh? Then I guess I'd better leave." She stands and ready's herself to go.

  "Sit, Harlyn."

  She pushes out that bottom lip, and with the most seductive stare I've ever seen says. "Yes, sir, Mr. Harrington."

  "I'm warning you. We're here to study, and if you keep pushing that lip out and saying Sir, I'm going to turn you over this table and…"

  "…and what Mr. Harrington, shove your dick in my ass?"

  My breath catches, and I swallow deep. I'm on the edge of saying fuck it and doing just what I've threatened, but giving in wouldn't give what either of us needs. Well, not on a literary level anyway.

  "How about this? You get through today, and by the end of the week, produce a quiz with ninety-eight percent or better, and I'll stick this dick wherever you want it." I grip myself proving my point.

  Her gasp indicates I've taken her by surprise and is the only answer I needed.

  My dick is one hell of a motivator because she powers up her reading device and goes straight to the last page she was on. Taking notes as she quickly scans the pages.

  "Ninety-eight percent or better, remember?"

  She nod's frantically and continues reading at a record place.

  Chapter Eight

  Francis Harlyn Aldridge

  This morning I'm skipping class and going dress shopping with Quinn. There's a charity ball put on by the Mayor in just a few days, and I haven't even bought anything to wear. I expect finding my size may be a challenge because, according to Quinn's mom, I don't care how much I weigh. I wanted to bitch slap her for even insinuating I'm overweight but held my tongue. Brushing it off as though I didn't hear her.