Even though St. Alphonso’s Catholic School was scheduled to close next year, the staff carried on as if we would be open for a hundred more years.
I’m not even sure where the debate about students not wearing uniforms started at, but somehow it had become a big deal. St. Alphonso had always been strict in its uniform policy and now students felt with the school nearing its final year that it should lax policy.
“It’s only two days out the week, Ms. Roberts,” Stacey said, flipping her back shoulder length dark brown hair away from her face. Being one of the popular eleventh grade students, she lived up to her image always looking as if she stepped out a salon every day. She reminded me of one of those Jet Magazine’s Beauty of the Week and maturity showed very evident in her face and those ever seeing dark brown eyes.
Pushing my glasses that had moved down my nose back up, I paused before answering her. “Calculus is not the place to discuss this issue, Stacey.”
Adamantly, she stated, “You don’t have to wear uniforms because you wear what you want to wear.”
I couldn’t help but respond to her, even though I had tried to resolve to put this subject to an end and finish up getting them to understand computations involving velocity. “Teachers have a dress code.”
“But not stupid horrible looking plaid uniforms. They’re hot and itchy and I, along with the majority of the other students, hate them.” She stood up to stress her point.
There was verbal encouragement around the room. I decided to maintain my own annoyance in this subject and return to our honors Calculus class. They barely passed their integral Calculus finals and I really needed them to get an understanding of all the aspects of differential Calculus. “Take a seat, Stacey. When everyone can actually ace one of my examinations, then you can discuss the uniform policy with me.”
From my peripheral vision, I watched her grit her teeth and plopped back in her chair.
I returned to the lesson glad the subject was over with, yet it wasn’t. The next day, Stacey must have been speaking with the rest of the class, because when she stood up in the middle of class as we were going over the slope of a curve, she stated, “I issue you a challenge, Ms. Roberts.”
Of course my attention was perked because I loved a challenge.
“If at least half the class passes the finals with over eighty-percent for the last week of school you’ll wear our uniforms for one whole day, whether we get our way or not next year, you’ll still do this. Not only that, you won’t get away with driving that car back and forth to home to hide it. You’ll get on those smelly public buses to get to work so you can feel how we feel when they look at us.”
Filled with suspicion, I asked, “Why is this so important?”
“Because I see you whispering in Father Avery’s ear all the time. I know he holds a lot of respect for your views and all, but you think we’re a bunch of spoiled rich kids and you’re wrong. You don’t have to go through what we go through. It’s like you became an adult and forgot all the trials and tribulations teenagers have to go through.” There was a lot of frustration in her voice.
I took pity on her, but my gut told me to refuse this deal. Many of the students were on edge awaiting my response. “What about if eighty percent of the class score over eighty-five?” I suggested.
“How many is that?” Lexus asked. He wasn’t my brightest student, but he could hold his own when it came to Algorithm’s.
“This is math class, Lexus, figure that out,” I remarked.
Impatiently, Stacey asked, “Is it a deal, Ms. Roberts?”
No more than seventy percent of the class scored higher than eighty on average so I felt I was secure in knowing I would win.
I especially made my tests harder than most Calculus teachers because I wasn’t one to take exception that these were high school students. They needed to understand that no one would give them anything for free.
“A deal it is,” I confirmed. “Are you through interrupting my class?”
She sat down with excitement in her brown eyes.
The thought of wearing the uniforms didn’t irk me much, but it definitely gave my students initiative. Usually our long drawn out sessions were now filled with questions as they tried to understand complex equations and put together theories they never comprehended before.
The uniform vote passed with the board. The students were excited because St. Alphonso’s very last year would seem good for them. The staff was happy the debate was over and prepared for finals. As my class took their finals, I began closing my books and completing my paper work glad another school year was soon going to be over with.
As always, I felt confident I had done my job as a teacher and that my students had progressed well.
Our last week of school consisted of the school’s picnic at Belle Isle in Detroit, the last prom of the season and the regular staff luncheon. We had completed all the awards programs, dances and other end of the year activities. Since I had been at St. Alphonso, I was usually the event coordinator or teacher assistant for all the events going on.
I knew the other teachers appreciated my help because I was the only one of them that had no children and no husband to get home too. Taking leadership and doing large events seemed to be some kind of hidden talent of mine.
I wanted my last week to be free; even if it was just for me because I had no husband or kids to go home to. Teaching was my only life and I was content with just that, although my subconscious yearned for much more. I suppressed these feelings to break out of my ordinary life and my dull existence as a teacher even though I was considered very young to be a teacher. I wouldn’t be with St. Alphonso for the last year. I had accepted the position of becoming an assistant principal at a charter school in Detroit and finishing off my second masters at Wayne State University over the summer.
“Ms. Roberts,” Stacey said, catching my attention.
I turned to her and took her paper.
“How’s it feel?” she inquired her large doe eyes filled with curiosity.
“What?” I asked, falling for the bait.
“To be single and …old?”
Insulted, I said, “I’m only twenty-four, Stacey.”
She actually looked confused. “Don’t you think you need to do more with your life?”
“I go to school.” Proudly, I stated, “In three years I should have my doctorate in education.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she said put out. “Don’t you think you should be looking for a man or something?”
“Why is my personal life so important to you all of a sudden?”
She shrugged. “You’re like the only black woman I know that don’t do things other black women do.”
“Are you calling me strange?”
Shaking her head quickly as if she didn’t mean to insult me, she said, “I’m just saying, I feel for you. You’re a great teacher and all, but I just think you deserve more.” Quickly feeling my annoyance, she left.
That night I checked the finals and was amazed at how many students actually scored over eighty-five percent.
On Monday, I learned I was one of the last teachers to arrive and by the time I posted my scores on the main hallway’s board the crowd of students that early in the morning was ridiculous. Hoops, squeals and hollers arose from the crowd.
Stacey stood out from the crowd as I pushed my way towards my classroom through the multitude of students. “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow, Ms. Roberts. I didn’t want to prolong your agony.” She held out a brown paper bag to me.
I took the bag stiffly and smiled as if her giddiness didn’t bother me at all. As much as I loved challenges, I hated losing even though it had been a good thing to lose because I was proud of my students for really stepping up their game to get a good grade in my class. I was considered one of the hardest teachers. “There’s no agony in this at all.”
“So you won’t mind leaving your car keys in the office? Remember, you have to catch the bus. And I put a pair of socks in there too because stockings get uncomfortable.”
I hadn’t caught the bus in almost a decade. By sixteen my father had given me a nice rebuilt Chevette that lasted until I graduated from college. Yet challenges were always interesting for me and my students had won the bet legitimately. “No problem. Congratulations, Stacey.” I was proud of my students, yet Stacey’s overly smug smile was starting to irk me.
“I’ll see you after school, Ms. Roberts,” Stacey said. “My old man makes me catch the bus too, so I’ll be happy to help you get home.”
After changing, I felt awkward and the fabric of the raspberry ugly plaid skirt was rather heavy compared to my own clothes. I’d chosen to keep my stockings on and my legs were getting hot, but at least the white flower collared shirt wasn’t so bad, although my black bra stuck out dominantly and now I knew why most of the girls wore undershirts.
Students lined up taking pictures with me and I laughed with them throughout the day. I signed several yearbooks and took everything in good nature.
By the end of the day I was exhausted and packed up wanting to get home and take off the hot uncomfortable skirt and stiff shirt. Just as I was about to leave out of my classroom, Father Avery came in looking rather exhausted and rattled.
“Is everything alright?” I asked concerned.
“Cheyenne, I’m glad I caught you before you left. I’ve been running all day with Stacey, who’s in charge with prom,” he said, placing a stack of files on my desk. “You’re well aware of assistant principals’ duties here since you mentored with me last year and this report needs to be completed by tomorrow afternoon.”
I nodded reluctantly. “No problem, Father Avery. I’ll finish up the report for you and place it on your desk.”
He looked extremely relieved and started to leave, but stopped himself. “Oh yeah, Stacey said you’re supposed to give me some keys when I give you this note. She asked me the general direction you lived in and said these were bus directions to get home.” He pulled out a closed envelope.
I snorted knowing Stacey was probably glowing with triumph. Going in my purse, I handed Father Avery my car keys and took the envelope from him. He left immediately and I began the report. By five-thirty, I had a rough draft ready and decided to type the finish report tomorrow morning and email it to Father Avery.
In Stacey’s note, she had the bus routes fairly close to where I lived, and she also wrote at the end, “Don’t talk to strangers and never make eye contact with anyone. The weirdoes like that.”
Being humid outside, I took off the stockings and put on the socks. I also decided since I was out of school, I put away my glasses, unbuckled the tie, and unbuttoned the first two buttons of my shirt to get comfortable, while waiting on the bus.
After fifteen minutes of waiting, I noticed a dark blue Jaguar had driven by twice. Feeling a little uneasy being the only person standing out there, I remembered Stacey’s advice about not making eye contact.
The third time the car passed on my side of the street, it stopped a few feet past me.
I looked at the back of the driver who seemed quite frustrated. He was a black man, neatly groomed and cute from what I could see, but he could still be a nutcase.
After sitting there for another minute, he put the car in reverse and slowly rolled back to me.
“Excuse me,” he said, sharply as if I had done something wrong.
I ignored him until he said it twice more enjoying his frustration. When I finally looked his way, I was very wrong about him being cute. The man was gorgeously handsome.
Mahogany brown hair cut short and groomed perfectly framing his strong masculine face. He had beautiful dark cinnamon skin tone with arrogant features and a dramatic dimple only on his left cheek.
Of course, I refrained from showing my immediate attraction from him because even weirdoes could look good – i.e. Ted Bundy.
“I’m trying to find The City of Southfield,” he said.
"But you're in Detroit," I responded sarcastically.
Strong long fingers gripped the steering wheel. "I know that," he said through gritted teeth.
I gave him the easiest way I could think of, since he really looked lost. “Take this street down to the Lodge Freeway and go north.”
“You’re the third person who told me that, but I’m not having any success with those directions.”
I surmised teasingly, “I take it you’re not from around here.”
He looked at me sharply with thin black eyes. “New York, if you must know. I just moved to Michigan last week.”
I checked the inside of the car and saw the dark screen of the GPS. “Don’t your maps, help?”
“They probably would if I had the charger and my Onstar won’t be on until next week. My phone was stolen, while I was in my meeting along with my credit cards and money. I’m glad I kept my wallet in another place or they would have taken that too.”
I couldn’t help, but chuckle at his distress. “You aren’t having a good day, are you?”
“Can you tell?” he questioned cynically, reaching inside his suit pocket, pulling out a black snakeskin wallet. “Would you show me?” Before I could protest, he said desperately, “Look, I don’t have a lot of time to beg you, but I swear I won’t lay a hand on you. I need to go home and I just want you to show me the way, please.” He outstretched his wallet to me. “I’ll give you my wallet. It has my ID, the registration to my car, and important papers. I swear I’m not a pervert, weirdo, or insane killer.”
He was reading my mind because that’s what I was thinking.
Taking the wallet, I verified his face with the new Michigan Driver’s License. “Evan Crane?” I asked, verifying his name out loud.
“At your beck and call, if you will please assist me,” he confirmed.
Everything in my head told me this was wrong despite how handsome he was. He was still a stranger, yet my sense of adventure called out to my conscious warning, which was pushed away as I reluctantly nodded, tucking the wallet in my purse.
Evan jumped out the car coming around to my side and opened the door. I was taken aback by his gentleman behavior and his height – over six feet. He was broad shouldered with leanness in the waist.
Warily, I sat down in the soft leather seat, holding my purse tight against my chest as he sat behind the wheel again.
I saw his eyes travel down to my chest and proceeded down to my legs where my plaid skirt had moved up my legs to the middle of my thighs.
His eyes quickly moved front as he put the vehicle into drive.
“Kind of late to be getting out of school, isn’t it? Studious, aren’t you?” he questioned.
I told him directions quickly and ignored his questions knowing he was using large words to determine my age.
He put the car into drive and asked, “Why are you getting out of school so late?”
“I had a report to do,” I answered.
“When do you graduate?”
“This would be my last year,” I said almost truthfully. He assumed what I wanted him to assume.
I understood why he had so many problems finding his way because construction diverted traffic and unless you knew Detroit streets, you would get lost easily. “You aren’t very patient,” I said.
“Only when I’m frustrated,” he agreed.
“Well, this looks messy, so why don’t you turn down this side street and we’ll take the back roads.”
He followed my instructions, yet had the nerve to seem wary about my directions.
“I was born and raised in Detroit on this side of town,” I assured him.
He chuckled, knowing I was reading his thoughts now.
I instructed him further deciding to take him a little out his way to get me closer to my home. Yes, I was cheating on the challenge loss with my students, but I wasn’t taking my car and I assured myself I would take the bus in the morning.
Once he was away from the traffic, he relaxed and I noticed his eyes occasionally were drawn to my calves as if he were terrified to look up further.
“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I said teasingly.
“You just seem mature.” He looked over at me directly as we stopped at a red light. “What kind of grades do you make?”
I answered honestly. “I’m a straight A student.”
“Do you also work?”
I nodded enjoying the façade he assumed. “Full time.”
Evan looked impressed and I wanted to laugh. The light turned green and he continued driving. “No time for boys, huh?”
I shrugged feeling a little on the edge because this was a sensitive subject for me. “Who really needs them?” I asked defensively, remembering Stacey's words.
“Women need healthy relationships-“
I cut him off. “I’ve had enough healthy relationships to last me a life time” I changed the subject. “And you? You seem old enough to have had many experiences.”
Evan glanced at me. “Enough to agree with you about not needing the opposite sex. You’ll come to a time in your life when personal relationships aren’t your priorities anymore.”
“And you’re at that time now?” I surmised.
“I’ve been at that time for about six years.”
“You don’t look that old.”
“I’m thirty,” he said proudly, yet there seemed to be a glint of dissatisfaction as if he had not accomplished something.
“That’s old,” I said disgustedly.
He clearly looked offended and that dissatisfied look returned.
Crossing my legs over, I said, “And are there future plans for a relationship?”
“That’s hard to say,” he answered, adjusting his weight. “My father always says I could sell ice to Eskimos, but I couldn’t sell myself to a woman.”
“Why is that?”
He frowned more to himself. “Women can’t seem to understand the love for my job and my dedication to my career, but the pleasure I receive from a hard days work will pay off to the woman I’m with.”
“Maybe you’re not allowing yourself to meet the right woman with the same hard working spirit,” I noted.
“To be so young, you know a lot about relationships.”
“Like I said, I’ve had enough experience.”
Raising a curious reddish brown brow, he stopped at another red light when I’m quite sure he could have made it. His thick sensuous lips curled to a boyish smirk, accentuating how incredibly handsome he was. “And how long have you’ve had this experience?”
Blushing profusely, I knew what he meant. In truth I was a late bloomer at twenty compared to all my friends. “Let’s just say, I’ve had enough,” I stated wickedly coming out my shell knowing I’d never see this man again.
“Don’t let these experiences ruin your potential,” he said sternly.
“My potential?” I said, smiling provocatively liking how his devastatingly sexy eyes lingered on my lips and slowly moved down to my thighs.
He licked his sensuous lips hungrily. “Yes, you’re mature, beautiful and intelligent. Young black women often make mistakes with early experiences that carry on to others further in life.”
I couldn’t help giggling at his innuendoes. “Are you giving me fatherly advice? You aren’t old enough to be my father.”
“Just count it as older brotherly advice,” he teased.
Seductively, I leaned over to him knowing the top of my shirt parted for his eyes. “You don’t give me a brotherly vibe.”
Evan forced his eyes away from me to pay attention to the road. I had him make another off course route and this was a less taken street with long traffic lights.
“Why do I have the feeling you’re leading me away from Southfield?” he questioned, checking the dashboard’s compass.
“I figured it would be easier to lead you to the Lodge and get me home faster.
“Thank you,” he said gratefully, recognizing a sign, which read the M-10 John C. Lodge freeway was close by.
Suddenly, he hit an extraordinarily large pothole and the top of his glove box popped open to hit my bare knee. He pulled over to the side of the road and apologized as he leaned over, reaching over my legs to push the glove box closed. Since I was already leaning over to check on my knee, it was no effort pressing my lips against his mouth, loving the feel of how soft his lips were.
I drew away, realizing that I had never been so brazen before in my entire life and he was still leaning.
“The light’s green,” I said, although it wouldn’t have mattered whether the light was yellow or red because we were over to the right where traffic could park and there was no one around us.
Yet he looked as if I were speaking another language. “What?”
Giggling at the perplex expression on his face, I said again, “The light is green.”
Sitting forward he was flustered as he proceeded to drive, but he kept his hand on my knee where it had rested, when I had kissed him previously.
“Your hand,” I said still highly amused.
Evan snatched his hand back mostly embarrassed trying to look upset. “You shouldn’t go around doing things like that to complete strangers.”
“I don’t, but are you going to say you didn’t like it.”
We stopped at another light as he said, “I’m not going to lie, but unlike you, before I do something stupid and illegal, I’m going to think about it.”
“I’m way above the age of consent for the State of Michigan, Evan.”
I could just see him fighting his own sense of morals. It was most attractive to watch and I wondered would I still be so aroused if he knew the truth.
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he warned.
I brushed my lips against his feeling electric pulses all over my body. Suddenly, he reached around and gripped the back of my head, holding me firmly. He grounded his lips against my own sucking the breath out of me. The moment I parted my lips to protest his roughness, his tongue slipped inside of my mouth and all thought of resisting disappeared as I tasted cinnamon Altoid’s and him. My arms encircled his neck deepening the kiss, while his other hand moved down cupping my backside and with ease he guided me over until I was straddling his waist. The space was tight, but I didn’t care.
His thick hardness pressed against my inner thigh so close to my wetness as his mouth left me, moving down my neck suckling determinedly, leaving his mark. With a stroke of his hand, the buttons on my shirt opened and my bra was lowered so his lips attacked my dark brown pouting tips. His hand pushed my panties aside and his long thick finger pressed into my heat. My body trembled as I rotated my hips feeling this strong tingling sensation build until an electric bomb exploded in my body.
I held on for dear life as a dam of satisfaction showered me. Evan held me tight. Drenched in sweat – something I rarely did – I forced myself back in control. He was sweating too and I could sense he was straining.
Amazingly, the car was cool. Meeting his eyes, I flushed with embarrassment. Never in my life had I ever done anything so promiscuous.
“Oh, now she wants to pretend she’s shy,” he teased, kissing my cheek tenderly.
His hardness twitched underneath me and I could tell he had not had as much fulfillment as I had.
Gasping, I realized I had a real orgasm. Not those pretty waves of ecstasy! My first real orgasm had been with a complete stranger! “But you haven’t …” I flustered concerned.
He laughed genuinely, throwing his head back.
“You’re concerned over my pleasure? That’s odd for someone so young,” he said tenderly as his black pools danced. He nuzzled his nose in my neck and held me tight. I could feel he was trying to control himself and then I felt his manhood soften.
“How’d you do that?” I asked amazed.
Evan chuckled, whispering in my ear, “Obviously you aren’t that experienced.” Sighing disappointedly, he nudged me a little and I knew he was reluctant to move me away, but it was the right thing to do if I was the age he thought me to be.
I was almost tempted to tell him the truth, but decided not to. I moved over to my seat and was impressed when he closed his eyes a moment as I adjusted my clothes. I said nothing, watching in fascination while he gathered himself emotionally.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Evan.”
A coldness overcame him as he pulled the car in drive and he pursed his lips together as he steered in traffic as if in a hurry to be rid of me. I was quiet the whole time feeling embarrassed and upset that I was still affected by his proximity.
“Stop at this corner and let me out,” I said. “The Lodge is a block away and you’ll have to get in the left hand lane as early as possible.”
“Thank you,” he said stiffly.
Soon as the car stopped I opened the door. “Bye Evan.” Before he could say anything else, I slammed the door and walked away.
I could hear him sitting there for a moment before driving away. I took a deep breath and forced myself not to think about what had just happened.
Getting home, I went straight to the bathroom and started the water for a shower. Looking in the mirror, I gasped seeing the love bite on my neck from his ardent kisses.
After the shower, I laid down trying to go to sleep, but Evan Crane would not leave my thoughts. At least I knew I would not see him again and with that I knew I wouldn’t make the mistake of doing anything illicit with him ever again.
Consumed by thoughts of Evan Crane, made me forget to set my alarm, and I ended up waking up late. I knew I wouldn’t be able to take the bus, so I took a cab to school and arrived late to class, but didn’t let that mess up day.
My keys were in my mailbox and I sighed with relief knowing my life would get fully back to normal.
Four days progressed with ease. Occasionally, I found myself daydreaming about what I really wanted to do with Evan Crane, but without a way to get in touch with him, I was safe in my fantasies.
I was caught up in thoughts about him as Stacey entered my class at the end of the day when I thought all students were gone from the school. She was hiding something behind her back and I looked at her skeptically.
“What are you doing here so late?” I noted.
“I was just helping Father Avery get the office in order for the summer. A handsome gentleman stopped by three days ago when I was the only one in the office. He said he was looking for a twelfth grader.”
Confused, I asked, “Is this student in my class?”
“That’s what’s so strange, Ms. Roberts. I know all the African-American seniors and the person he described was not a student here.”
A cold chill swept over me. “Maybe he had the grades mixed up or he had the wrong school.”
“Oh no, Ms. Roberts. He was positive because the girl had on our uniform and she was standing out in front of the school late in the afternoon.” Her black eyes glinted with amusement and wickedness.
“Did he give a name of this student?”
Stacey shook her head. “No, he didn’t. He said he never got her name, but she had his wallet.”
I gasped remembering I’d put the wallet in my side pocket of my purse.
“You wouldn’t happen to know who he could have been speaking about?”
Stiffly, I said, “No, Stacey.”
“Well, I told him that no student here would ever get in the car with some stranger and he should be careful about whom he picked up.”
Weakly, I asked, “And what did he say?”
“He looked very upset and told me I could have these because they were intended for the student for her help and he wanted to get his wallet back.” She took half dozen white roses from behind her. “I kept them, but something nagged me about the whole thing. I thought you would know something since you were here late and could have seen the student in question.”
I wanted to reach out and snatch them away from her. I had never gotten white roses before! “That was three days ago, Stacey. Why are you coming to me now?”
“I’ve been busy,” she said simply. “But I kept them in my locker until today because I was cleaning everything out.”
“No, I didn’t see any students around when I left late Monday,” I said.
“Well, I certainly can’t leave the school with these and I really don’t want them in my locker.” She smelled them. “They really are beautiful, aren’t they, Ms. Roberts?”
Shrugging with my best nonchalant attitude, I said, “I guess.”
Setting them on my desk, she said, “Just throw them away with the card he left inside. I didn’t even open it up because I didn’t want to intrude on something he felt was so private.”
As soon as she left me alone, I reached over and dug out the card.
“I don’t know your name, but I would like to see you again – and not just to get my wallet back. I felt we left on cold terms. Friday evening, same time we met before. Evan Crane.” Listed at the bottom of the card was an address and phone number.
I smelled the flowers and smiled wickedly to myself. An opportunity with no strings attached.
My mind screamed hysterically of how promiscuous I would be if I went there, but my body cried a yearning that ignored the right thing to do. Getting home, I could not find anything in my closet age appropriate to what he thought, so I deigned to wear the horrible uniform, which I had cleaned with intentions of shoving it right back at Stacey on the last day of school.
Getting to his place near the time appointed, I knocked quietly on the door. After a moment, the apartment door opened and he stood there dressed in a casual shirt and pants looking just as handsome as I remembered. There were a million questions in those black sensuous eyes of his, but doubt of where to start.
I had placed one of the white roses behind my ear to let him know I had gotten his gift. My heart raced a hundred miles a minute.
“Are you alone?” he asked, looking past me.
“Yes,” I answered holding out his wallet to him. “Are you?”
“Yes,” he spoke quickly, taking his wallet. “How’d you get here?”
“I drove.”
“Your parent’s car?” he questioned.
I didn’t want to lie anymore, so I took what I had been craving. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. I figured if I was going to be bad, then why hide what I really wanted and had been dreaming about for the past four days. He didn’t know me and I didn’t know him and he would never be able to find me.
No more words were needed as his arms quickly moved around my waist and drew me closer, molding my body against his. Somehow, I was guided inside and the door was closed. His hands magically removed my clothes.
Standing there naked in his arms as we kissed felt so right and wicked at the same time.
Desperately, he asked between rapturous kisses, “They know where you are?”
“Who?” I asked confused.
“Your parents!” he said obviously.
I opened his pants quickly and reached my hand inside feeling the thick velvety flesh, which excitedly twitched by my touch. Lowering to my knees, I wanted to make him forget trying to be moral about this as I gave his warm muscle an anvil and pressed my lips gingerly against the tip.
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he warned, but too consumed with passion to even attempt to stop me.
“Not that again,” I giggled before enveloping him between my lips.
He completely forgot what he wanted to protest about as he groaned from the feel of me pressing the tip of him in the back of my throat. Before I could get into really enjoying him orally he lifted me and carried me to a large bedroom. I was delirious with passion as he made love to me until we both received pleasure simultaneously, holding each other closely.
“I have so many questions to ask you,” He whispered in my ear in the quiet moments after we were sexually sated.
Fighting an exhausted yawn, I promised, “In the morning.”
He held me close, kissing me until I drifted off to sleep.
I didn’t awake until almost four in the morning. Unwinding myself from his body, I dressed quickly and quietly not wanting to wake him too terrified of wanting him again.
Finding the white rose that had fallen out of my hair earlier, I returned to his bedroom and laid the flower on the pillow where my head had lain. Moonlight filled the room and I smiled staring at his handsome, peaceful, sleeping face. I wanted to kiss him one last time, but I didn’t want to disturb him so I blew him a kiss and left his apartment.
Even if he had not wanted it to be a one-night stand, I had reserved Evan Crane for just that. Getting involved with him right now in my life would be too much, but at least I knew I had one opportunity to do something adventurous and I could tell my grandchildren – if I had any – that I wasn’t such a prune.
Driving away, I knew I would never set eyes on Evan Crane again. Next year, I’d be at another school, and no one would know anything at St. Alphonso’s. It was for the best.
(continued in next part)
I’m not even sure where the debate about students not wearing uniforms started at, but somehow it had become a big deal. St. Alphonso had always been strict in its uniform policy and now students felt with the school nearing its final year that it should lax policy.
“It’s only two days out the week, Ms. Roberts,” Stacey said, flipping her back shoulder length dark brown hair away from her face. Being one of the popular eleventh grade students, she lived up to her image always looking as if she stepped out a salon every day. She reminded me of one of those Jet Magazine’s Beauty of the Week and maturity showed very evident in her face and those ever seeing dark brown eyes.
Pushing my glasses that had moved down my nose back up, I paused before answering her. “Calculus is not the place to discuss this issue, Stacey.”
Adamantly, she stated, “You don’t have to wear uniforms because you wear what you want to wear.”
I couldn’t help but respond to her, even though I had tried to resolve to put this subject to an end and finish up getting them to understand computations involving velocity. “Teachers have a dress code.”
“But not stupid horrible looking plaid uniforms. They’re hot and itchy and I, along with the majority of the other students, hate them.” She stood up to stress her point.
There was verbal encouragement around the room. I decided to maintain my own annoyance in this subject and return to our honors Calculus class. They barely passed their integral Calculus finals and I really needed them to get an understanding of all the aspects of differential Calculus. “Take a seat, Stacey. When everyone can actually ace one of my examinations, then you can discuss the uniform policy with me.”
From my peripheral vision, I watched her grit her teeth and plopped back in her chair.
I returned to the lesson glad the subject was over with, yet it wasn’t. The next day, Stacey must have been speaking with the rest of the class, because when she stood up in the middle of class as we were going over the slope of a curve, she stated, “I issue you a challenge, Ms. Roberts.”
Of course my attention was perked because I loved a challenge.
“If at least half the class passes the finals with over eighty-percent for the last week of school you’ll wear our uniforms for one whole day, whether we get our way or not next year, you’ll still do this. Not only that, you won’t get away with driving that car back and forth to home to hide it. You’ll get on those smelly public buses to get to work so you can feel how we feel when they look at us.”
Filled with suspicion, I asked, “Why is this so important?”
“Because I see you whispering in Father Avery’s ear all the time. I know he holds a lot of respect for your views and all, but you think we’re a bunch of spoiled rich kids and you’re wrong. You don’t have to go through what we go through. It’s like you became an adult and forgot all the trials and tribulations teenagers have to go through.” There was a lot of frustration in her voice.
I took pity on her, but my gut told me to refuse this deal. Many of the students were on edge awaiting my response. “What about if eighty percent of the class score over eighty-five?” I suggested.
“How many is that?” Lexus asked. He wasn’t my brightest student, but he could hold his own when it came to Algorithm’s.
“This is math class, Lexus, figure that out,” I remarked.
Impatiently, Stacey asked, “Is it a deal, Ms. Roberts?”
No more than seventy percent of the class scored higher than eighty on average so I felt I was secure in knowing I would win.
I especially made my tests harder than most Calculus teachers because I wasn’t one to take exception that these were high school students. They needed to understand that no one would give them anything for free.
“A deal it is,” I confirmed. “Are you through interrupting my class?”
She sat down with excitement in her brown eyes.
The thought of wearing the uniforms didn’t irk me much, but it definitely gave my students initiative. Usually our long drawn out sessions were now filled with questions as they tried to understand complex equations and put together theories they never comprehended before.
The uniform vote passed with the board. The students were excited because St. Alphonso’s very last year would seem good for them. The staff was happy the debate was over and prepared for finals. As my class took their finals, I began closing my books and completing my paper work glad another school year was soon going to be over with.
As always, I felt confident I had done my job as a teacher and that my students had progressed well.
Our last week of school consisted of the school’s picnic at Belle Isle in Detroit, the last prom of the season and the regular staff luncheon. We had completed all the awards programs, dances and other end of the year activities. Since I had been at St. Alphonso, I was usually the event coordinator or teacher assistant for all the events going on.
I knew the other teachers appreciated my help because I was the only one of them that had no children and no husband to get home too. Taking leadership and doing large events seemed to be some kind of hidden talent of mine.
I wanted my last week to be free; even if it was just for me because I had no husband or kids to go home to. Teaching was my only life and I was content with just that, although my subconscious yearned for much more. I suppressed these feelings to break out of my ordinary life and my dull existence as a teacher even though I was considered very young to be a teacher. I wouldn’t be with St. Alphonso for the last year. I had accepted the position of becoming an assistant principal at a charter school in Detroit and finishing off my second masters at Wayne State University over the summer.
“Ms. Roberts,” Stacey said, catching my attention.
I turned to her and took her paper.
“How’s it feel?” she inquired her large doe eyes filled with curiosity.
“What?” I asked, falling for the bait.
“To be single and …old?”
Insulted, I said, “I’m only twenty-four, Stacey.”
She actually looked confused. “Don’t you think you need to do more with your life?”
“I go to school.” Proudly, I stated, “In three years I should have my doctorate in education.”
“You still haven’t answered my question,” she said put out. “Don’t you think you should be looking for a man or something?”
“Why is my personal life so important to you all of a sudden?”
She shrugged. “You’re like the only black woman I know that don’t do things other black women do.”
“Are you calling me strange?”
Shaking her head quickly as if she didn’t mean to insult me, she said, “I’m just saying, I feel for you. You’re a great teacher and all, but I just think you deserve more.” Quickly feeling my annoyance, she left.
That night I checked the finals and was amazed at how many students actually scored over eighty-five percent.
On Monday, I learned I was one of the last teachers to arrive and by the time I posted my scores on the main hallway’s board the crowd of students that early in the morning was ridiculous. Hoops, squeals and hollers arose from the crowd.
Stacey stood out from the crowd as I pushed my way towards my classroom through the multitude of students. “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow, Ms. Roberts. I didn’t want to prolong your agony.” She held out a brown paper bag to me.
I took the bag stiffly and smiled as if her giddiness didn’t bother me at all. As much as I loved challenges, I hated losing even though it had been a good thing to lose because I was proud of my students for really stepping up their game to get a good grade in my class. I was considered one of the hardest teachers. “There’s no agony in this at all.”
“So you won’t mind leaving your car keys in the office? Remember, you have to catch the bus. And I put a pair of socks in there too because stockings get uncomfortable.”
I hadn’t caught the bus in almost a decade. By sixteen my father had given me a nice rebuilt Chevette that lasted until I graduated from college. Yet challenges were always interesting for me and my students had won the bet legitimately. “No problem. Congratulations, Stacey.” I was proud of my students, yet Stacey’s overly smug smile was starting to irk me.
“I’ll see you after school, Ms. Roberts,” Stacey said. “My old man makes me catch the bus too, so I’ll be happy to help you get home.”
After changing, I felt awkward and the fabric of the raspberry ugly plaid skirt was rather heavy compared to my own clothes. I’d chosen to keep my stockings on and my legs were getting hot, but at least the white flower collared shirt wasn’t so bad, although my black bra stuck out dominantly and now I knew why most of the girls wore undershirts.
Students lined up taking pictures with me and I laughed with them throughout the day. I signed several yearbooks and took everything in good nature.
By the end of the day I was exhausted and packed up wanting to get home and take off the hot uncomfortable skirt and stiff shirt. Just as I was about to leave out of my classroom, Father Avery came in looking rather exhausted and rattled.
“Is everything alright?” I asked concerned.
“Cheyenne, I’m glad I caught you before you left. I’ve been running all day with Stacey, who’s in charge with prom,” he said, placing a stack of files on my desk. “You’re well aware of assistant principals’ duties here since you mentored with me last year and this report needs to be completed by tomorrow afternoon.”
I nodded reluctantly. “No problem, Father Avery. I’ll finish up the report for you and place it on your desk.”
He looked extremely relieved and started to leave, but stopped himself. “Oh yeah, Stacey said you’re supposed to give me some keys when I give you this note. She asked me the general direction you lived in and said these were bus directions to get home.” He pulled out a closed envelope.
I snorted knowing Stacey was probably glowing with triumph. Going in my purse, I handed Father Avery my car keys and took the envelope from him. He left immediately and I began the report. By five-thirty, I had a rough draft ready and decided to type the finish report tomorrow morning and email it to Father Avery.
In Stacey’s note, she had the bus routes fairly close to where I lived, and she also wrote at the end, “Don’t talk to strangers and never make eye contact with anyone. The weirdoes like that.”
Being humid outside, I took off the stockings and put on the socks. I also decided since I was out of school, I put away my glasses, unbuckled the tie, and unbuttoned the first two buttons of my shirt to get comfortable, while waiting on the bus.
After fifteen minutes of waiting, I noticed a dark blue Jaguar had driven by twice. Feeling a little uneasy being the only person standing out there, I remembered Stacey’s advice about not making eye contact.
The third time the car passed on my side of the street, it stopped a few feet past me.
I looked at the back of the driver who seemed quite frustrated. He was a black man, neatly groomed and cute from what I could see, but he could still be a nutcase.
After sitting there for another minute, he put the car in reverse and slowly rolled back to me.
“Excuse me,” he said, sharply as if I had done something wrong.
I ignored him until he said it twice more enjoying his frustration. When I finally looked his way, I was very wrong about him being cute. The man was gorgeously handsome.
Mahogany brown hair cut short and groomed perfectly framing his strong masculine face. He had beautiful dark cinnamon skin tone with arrogant features and a dramatic dimple only on his left cheek.
Of course, I refrained from showing my immediate attraction from him because even weirdoes could look good – i.e. Ted Bundy.
“I’m trying to find The City of Southfield,” he said.
"But you're in Detroit," I responded sarcastically.
Strong long fingers gripped the steering wheel. "I know that," he said through gritted teeth.
I gave him the easiest way I could think of, since he really looked lost. “Take this street down to the Lodge Freeway and go north.”
“You’re the third person who told me that, but I’m not having any success with those directions.”
I surmised teasingly, “I take it you’re not from around here.”
He looked at me sharply with thin black eyes. “New York, if you must know. I just moved to Michigan last week.”
I checked the inside of the car and saw the dark screen of the GPS. “Don’t your maps, help?”
“They probably would if I had the charger and my Onstar won’t be on until next week. My phone was stolen, while I was in my meeting along with my credit cards and money. I’m glad I kept my wallet in another place or they would have taken that too.”
I couldn’t help, but chuckle at his distress. “You aren’t having a good day, are you?”
“Can you tell?” he questioned cynically, reaching inside his suit pocket, pulling out a black snakeskin wallet. “Would you show me?” Before I could protest, he said desperately, “Look, I don’t have a lot of time to beg you, but I swear I won’t lay a hand on you. I need to go home and I just want you to show me the way, please.” He outstretched his wallet to me. “I’ll give you my wallet. It has my ID, the registration to my car, and important papers. I swear I’m not a pervert, weirdo, or insane killer.”
He was reading my mind because that’s what I was thinking.
Taking the wallet, I verified his face with the new Michigan Driver’s License. “Evan Crane?” I asked, verifying his name out loud.
“At your beck and call, if you will please assist me,” he confirmed.
Everything in my head told me this was wrong despite how handsome he was. He was still a stranger, yet my sense of adventure called out to my conscious warning, which was pushed away as I reluctantly nodded, tucking the wallet in my purse.
Evan jumped out the car coming around to my side and opened the door. I was taken aback by his gentleman behavior and his height – over six feet. He was broad shouldered with leanness in the waist.
Warily, I sat down in the soft leather seat, holding my purse tight against my chest as he sat behind the wheel again.
I saw his eyes travel down to my chest and proceeded down to my legs where my plaid skirt had moved up my legs to the middle of my thighs.
His eyes quickly moved front as he put the vehicle into drive.
“Kind of late to be getting out of school, isn’t it? Studious, aren’t you?” he questioned.
I told him directions quickly and ignored his questions knowing he was using large words to determine my age.
He put the car into drive and asked, “Why are you getting out of school so late?”
“I had a report to do,” I answered.
“When do you graduate?”
“This would be my last year,” I said almost truthfully. He assumed what I wanted him to assume.
I understood why he had so many problems finding his way because construction diverted traffic and unless you knew Detroit streets, you would get lost easily. “You aren’t very patient,” I said.
“Only when I’m frustrated,” he agreed.
“Well, this looks messy, so why don’t you turn down this side street and we’ll take the back roads.”
He followed my instructions, yet had the nerve to seem wary about my directions.
“I was born and raised in Detroit on this side of town,” I assured him.
He chuckled, knowing I was reading his thoughts now.
I instructed him further deciding to take him a little out his way to get me closer to my home. Yes, I was cheating on the challenge loss with my students, but I wasn’t taking my car and I assured myself I would take the bus in the morning.
Once he was away from the traffic, he relaxed and I noticed his eyes occasionally were drawn to my calves as if he were terrified to look up further.
“If you take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I said teasingly.
“You just seem mature.” He looked over at me directly as we stopped at a red light. “What kind of grades do you make?”
I answered honestly. “I’m a straight A student.”
“Do you also work?”
I nodded enjoying the façade he assumed. “Full time.”
Evan looked impressed and I wanted to laugh. The light turned green and he continued driving. “No time for boys, huh?”
I shrugged feeling a little on the edge because this was a sensitive subject for me. “Who really needs them?” I asked defensively, remembering Stacey's words.
“Women need healthy relationships-“
I cut him off. “I’ve had enough healthy relationships to last me a life time” I changed the subject. “And you? You seem old enough to have had many experiences.”
Evan glanced at me. “Enough to agree with you about not needing the opposite sex. You’ll come to a time in your life when personal relationships aren’t your priorities anymore.”
“And you’re at that time now?” I surmised.
“I’ve been at that time for about six years.”
“You don’t look that old.”
“I’m thirty,” he said proudly, yet there seemed to be a glint of dissatisfaction as if he had not accomplished something.
“That’s old,” I said disgustedly.
He clearly looked offended and that dissatisfied look returned.
Crossing my legs over, I said, “And are there future plans for a relationship?”
“That’s hard to say,” he answered, adjusting his weight. “My father always says I could sell ice to Eskimos, but I couldn’t sell myself to a woman.”
“Why is that?”
He frowned more to himself. “Women can’t seem to understand the love for my job and my dedication to my career, but the pleasure I receive from a hard days work will pay off to the woman I’m with.”
“Maybe you’re not allowing yourself to meet the right woman with the same hard working spirit,” I noted.
“To be so young, you know a lot about relationships.”
“Like I said, I’ve had enough experience.”
Raising a curious reddish brown brow, he stopped at another red light when I’m quite sure he could have made it. His thick sensuous lips curled to a boyish smirk, accentuating how incredibly handsome he was. “And how long have you’ve had this experience?”
Blushing profusely, I knew what he meant. In truth I was a late bloomer at twenty compared to all my friends. “Let’s just say, I’ve had enough,” I stated wickedly coming out my shell knowing I’d never see this man again.
“Don’t let these experiences ruin your potential,” he said sternly.
“My potential?” I said, smiling provocatively liking how his devastatingly sexy eyes lingered on my lips and slowly moved down to my thighs.
He licked his sensuous lips hungrily. “Yes, you’re mature, beautiful and intelligent. Young black women often make mistakes with early experiences that carry on to others further in life.”
I couldn’t help giggling at his innuendoes. “Are you giving me fatherly advice? You aren’t old enough to be my father.”
“Just count it as older brotherly advice,” he teased.
Seductively, I leaned over to him knowing the top of my shirt parted for his eyes. “You don’t give me a brotherly vibe.”
Evan forced his eyes away from me to pay attention to the road. I had him make another off course route and this was a less taken street with long traffic lights.
“Why do I have the feeling you’re leading me away from Southfield?” he questioned, checking the dashboard’s compass.
“I figured it would be easier to lead you to the Lodge and get me home faster.
“Thank you,” he said gratefully, recognizing a sign, which read the M-10 John C. Lodge freeway was close by.
Suddenly, he hit an extraordinarily large pothole and the top of his glove box popped open to hit my bare knee. He pulled over to the side of the road and apologized as he leaned over, reaching over my legs to push the glove box closed. Since I was already leaning over to check on my knee, it was no effort pressing my lips against his mouth, loving the feel of how soft his lips were.
I drew away, realizing that I had never been so brazen before in my entire life and he was still leaning.
“The light’s green,” I said, although it wouldn’t have mattered whether the light was yellow or red because we were over to the right where traffic could park and there was no one around us.
Yet he looked as if I were speaking another language. “What?”
Giggling at the perplex expression on his face, I said again, “The light is green.”
Sitting forward he was flustered as he proceeded to drive, but he kept his hand on my knee where it had rested, when I had kissed him previously.
“Your hand,” I said still highly amused.
Evan snatched his hand back mostly embarrassed trying to look upset. “You shouldn’t go around doing things like that to complete strangers.”
“I don’t, but are you going to say you didn’t like it.”
We stopped at another light as he said, “I’m not going to lie, but unlike you, before I do something stupid and illegal, I’m going to think about it.”
“I’m way above the age of consent for the State of Michigan, Evan.”
I could just see him fighting his own sense of morals. It was most attractive to watch and I wondered would I still be so aroused if he knew the truth.
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he warned.
I brushed my lips against his feeling electric pulses all over my body. Suddenly, he reached around and gripped the back of my head, holding me firmly. He grounded his lips against my own sucking the breath out of me. The moment I parted my lips to protest his roughness, his tongue slipped inside of my mouth and all thought of resisting disappeared as I tasted cinnamon Altoid’s and him. My arms encircled his neck deepening the kiss, while his other hand moved down cupping my backside and with ease he guided me over until I was straddling his waist. The space was tight, but I didn’t care.
His thick hardness pressed against my inner thigh so close to my wetness as his mouth left me, moving down my neck suckling determinedly, leaving his mark. With a stroke of his hand, the buttons on my shirt opened and my bra was lowered so his lips attacked my dark brown pouting tips. His hand pushed my panties aside and his long thick finger pressed into my heat. My body trembled as I rotated my hips feeling this strong tingling sensation build until an electric bomb exploded in my body.
I held on for dear life as a dam of satisfaction showered me. Evan held me tight. Drenched in sweat – something I rarely did – I forced myself back in control. He was sweating too and I could sense he was straining.
Amazingly, the car was cool. Meeting his eyes, I flushed with embarrassment. Never in my life had I ever done anything so promiscuous.
“Oh, now she wants to pretend she’s shy,” he teased, kissing my cheek tenderly.
His hardness twitched underneath me and I could tell he had not had as much fulfillment as I had.
Gasping, I realized I had a real orgasm. Not those pretty waves of ecstasy! My first real orgasm had been with a complete stranger! “But you haven’t …” I flustered concerned.
He laughed genuinely, throwing his head back.
“You’re concerned over my pleasure? That’s odd for someone so young,” he said tenderly as his black pools danced. He nuzzled his nose in my neck and held me tight. I could feel he was trying to control himself and then I felt his manhood soften.
“How’d you do that?” I asked amazed.
Evan chuckled, whispering in my ear, “Obviously you aren’t that experienced.” Sighing disappointedly, he nudged me a little and I knew he was reluctant to move me away, but it was the right thing to do if I was the age he thought me to be.
I was almost tempted to tell him the truth, but decided not to. I moved over to my seat and was impressed when he closed his eyes a moment as I adjusted my clothes. I said nothing, watching in fascination while he gathered himself emotionally.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Evan.”
A coldness overcame him as he pulled the car in drive and he pursed his lips together as he steered in traffic as if in a hurry to be rid of me. I was quiet the whole time feeling embarrassed and upset that I was still affected by his proximity.
“Stop at this corner and let me out,” I said. “The Lodge is a block away and you’ll have to get in the left hand lane as early as possible.”
“Thank you,” he said stiffly.
Soon as the car stopped I opened the door. “Bye Evan.” Before he could say anything else, I slammed the door and walked away.
I could hear him sitting there for a moment before driving away. I took a deep breath and forced myself not to think about what had just happened.
Getting home, I went straight to the bathroom and started the water for a shower. Looking in the mirror, I gasped seeing the love bite on my neck from his ardent kisses.
After the shower, I laid down trying to go to sleep, but Evan Crane would not leave my thoughts. At least I knew I would not see him again and with that I knew I wouldn’t make the mistake of doing anything illicit with him ever again.
Consumed by thoughts of Evan Crane, made me forget to set my alarm, and I ended up waking up late. I knew I wouldn’t be able to take the bus, so I took a cab to school and arrived late to class, but didn’t let that mess up day.
My keys were in my mailbox and I sighed with relief knowing my life would get fully back to normal.
Four days progressed with ease. Occasionally, I found myself daydreaming about what I really wanted to do with Evan Crane, but without a way to get in touch with him, I was safe in my fantasies.
I was caught up in thoughts about him as Stacey entered my class at the end of the day when I thought all students were gone from the school. She was hiding something behind her back and I looked at her skeptically.
“What are you doing here so late?” I noted.
“I was just helping Father Avery get the office in order for the summer. A handsome gentleman stopped by three days ago when I was the only one in the office. He said he was looking for a twelfth grader.”
Confused, I asked, “Is this student in my class?”
“That’s what’s so strange, Ms. Roberts. I know all the African-American seniors and the person he described was not a student here.”
A cold chill swept over me. “Maybe he had the grades mixed up or he had the wrong school.”
“Oh no, Ms. Roberts. He was positive because the girl had on our uniform and she was standing out in front of the school late in the afternoon.” Her black eyes glinted with amusement and wickedness.
“Did he give a name of this student?”
Stacey shook her head. “No, he didn’t. He said he never got her name, but she had his wallet.”
I gasped remembering I’d put the wallet in my side pocket of my purse.
“You wouldn’t happen to know who he could have been speaking about?”
Stiffly, I said, “No, Stacey.”
“Well, I told him that no student here would ever get in the car with some stranger and he should be careful about whom he picked up.”
Weakly, I asked, “And what did he say?”
“He looked very upset and told me I could have these because they were intended for the student for her help and he wanted to get his wallet back.” She took half dozen white roses from behind her. “I kept them, but something nagged me about the whole thing. I thought you would know something since you were here late and could have seen the student in question.”
I wanted to reach out and snatch them away from her. I had never gotten white roses before! “That was three days ago, Stacey. Why are you coming to me now?”
“I’ve been busy,” she said simply. “But I kept them in my locker until today because I was cleaning everything out.”
“No, I didn’t see any students around when I left late Monday,” I said.
“Well, I certainly can’t leave the school with these and I really don’t want them in my locker.” She smelled them. “They really are beautiful, aren’t they, Ms. Roberts?”
Shrugging with my best nonchalant attitude, I said, “I guess.”
Setting them on my desk, she said, “Just throw them away with the card he left inside. I didn’t even open it up because I didn’t want to intrude on something he felt was so private.”
As soon as she left me alone, I reached over and dug out the card.
“I don’t know your name, but I would like to see you again – and not just to get my wallet back. I felt we left on cold terms. Friday evening, same time we met before. Evan Crane.” Listed at the bottom of the card was an address and phone number.
I smelled the flowers and smiled wickedly to myself. An opportunity with no strings attached.
My mind screamed hysterically of how promiscuous I would be if I went there, but my body cried a yearning that ignored the right thing to do. Getting home, I could not find anything in my closet age appropriate to what he thought, so I deigned to wear the horrible uniform, which I had cleaned with intentions of shoving it right back at Stacey on the last day of school.
Getting to his place near the time appointed, I knocked quietly on the door. After a moment, the apartment door opened and he stood there dressed in a casual shirt and pants looking just as handsome as I remembered. There were a million questions in those black sensuous eyes of his, but doubt of where to start.
I had placed one of the white roses behind my ear to let him know I had gotten his gift. My heart raced a hundred miles a minute.
“Are you alone?” he asked, looking past me.
“Yes,” I answered holding out his wallet to him. “Are you?”
“Yes,” he spoke quickly, taking his wallet. “How’d you get here?”
“I drove.”
“Your parent’s car?” he questioned.
I didn’t want to lie anymore, so I took what I had been craving. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. I figured if I was going to be bad, then why hide what I really wanted and had been dreaming about for the past four days. He didn’t know me and I didn’t know him and he would never be able to find me.
No more words were needed as his arms quickly moved around my waist and drew me closer, molding my body against his. Somehow, I was guided inside and the door was closed. His hands magically removed my clothes.
Standing there naked in his arms as we kissed felt so right and wicked at the same time.
Desperately, he asked between rapturous kisses, “They know where you are?”
“Who?” I asked confused.
“Your parents!” he said obviously.
I opened his pants quickly and reached my hand inside feeling the thick velvety flesh, which excitedly twitched by my touch. Lowering to my knees, I wanted to make him forget trying to be moral about this as I gave his warm muscle an anvil and pressed my lips gingerly against the tip.
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he warned, but too consumed with passion to even attempt to stop me.
“Not that again,” I giggled before enveloping him between my lips.
He completely forgot what he wanted to protest about as he groaned from the feel of me pressing the tip of him in the back of my throat. Before I could get into really enjoying him orally he lifted me and carried me to a large bedroom. I was delirious with passion as he made love to me until we both received pleasure simultaneously, holding each other closely.
“I have so many questions to ask you,” He whispered in my ear in the quiet moments after we were sexually sated.
Fighting an exhausted yawn, I promised, “In the morning.”
He held me close, kissing me until I drifted off to sleep.
I didn’t awake until almost four in the morning. Unwinding myself from his body, I dressed quickly and quietly not wanting to wake him too terrified of wanting him again.
Finding the white rose that had fallen out of my hair earlier, I returned to his bedroom and laid the flower on the pillow where my head had lain. Moonlight filled the room and I smiled staring at his handsome, peaceful, sleeping face. I wanted to kiss him one last time, but I didn’t want to disturb him so I blew him a kiss and left his apartment.
Even if he had not wanted it to be a one-night stand, I had reserved Evan Crane for just that. Getting involved with him right now in my life would be too much, but at least I knew I had one opportunity to do something adventurous and I could tell my grandchildren – if I had any – that I wasn’t such a prune.
Driving away, I knew I would never set eyes on Evan Crane again. Next year, I’d be at another school, and no one would know anything at St. Alphonso’s. It was for the best.
(continued in next part)
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