Stirred Up (3 page)

The moment he said it, she realized that she
couldn’t remember the last time a man had praised her for something
other than her looks or her dancing. His easy compliment about
something that mattered so much to her brought tears to her eyes.
Quickly she blinked them away, appalled at her loss of control.

She went home that afternoon feeling more
deeply satisfied than she had in a long time. Maybe ever. She spent
the next two nights preparing for her first class, and by the time
she fell asleep Wednesday night at her kitchen table, she could
have written a dissertation about the short story she’d be
teaching, J.D. Salinger’s “A Perfect Day for Bananafish.” Her notes
were almost as long as the story, but at least she felt
prepared.

Unfortunately, that did nothing to alleviate
her terror at teaching a class for the first time. Jason greeted
her as usual when she arrived that morning, then looked at her with
narrowed eyes.

“Are you okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine. Just a little tired,” she lied,
unwilling to let him know how unnerved she was. She busied herself
pulling her notebook and water out of her bag so he couldn’t see
her face. She wasn’t the best liar.

“Nervous about teaching today?” he asked,
oh-so-innocently.

Apparently she was fooling no one.

“Okay, I admit it. I’m petrified. But I’ll
have it under control by third period. I’d better anyway, since
they can smell fear.”

Jason laughed. “You got that right. But
you’ll be fine, and I’ll be right there.”

That was partly what she was nervous about.
He’d be watching her, assessing her, and she didn’t want to fail.
Didn’t want him to think less of her. It went beyond worry about
what a supervisor might think to something more personal, a fact
that aggravated her no end.

The class went fine, if not stupendously. She
managed to get some of the students to talk, though others looked
bored and doodled in their notebooks. That was par for the course
though, even when Jason was teaching.

The bell for lunch period rang and the
students filed out into the chaos of the hallway. Cheryl fell into
the desk chair, relieved beyond measure.

“That bad?” Jason asked, getting up from his
desk at the back of the room, where he’d been observing.

“No, of course not,” she said, sitting up
straighter. “I didn’t mean to be so dramatic.”

Jason laughed and leaned a hip against the
desk. “You did great today. You really engaged the class and got
them thinking. You’re a natural.”

“I’m glad you think so. I felt like I got on
a roll after a little while, but it definitely didn’t feel natural
at first. Not with all of them staring at me, trying to figure out
what my deal is. And some of the boys…”

She trailed off, not sure if she should be
mentioning the way some of the male students looked at her. Their
expressions weren’t so far removed from what she saw in the faces
of men at the strip club, which was disconcerting to say the
least.

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure if I should bring that
up or not,” he said looking uncomfortable. “You’re a very
attractive woman, and these boys are walking hormone bombs. One of
your challenges will be how to deal with that.”

She sighed. “I was kind of hoping my nun-like
outfits would take care of that.”

“It’s a smart move, but unless you wear full
body armor and a mask, you’ll probably have to deal with some level
of attention.”

“Back when I was first applying to the school
of education, one of the counselors tried to talk me out of
secondary school. She thought high school boys would make my life a
living hell and I should do elementary instead.”

“So why didn’t you?” he asked.

“I’ve just always wanted to teach high
school. Maybe a part of it is just to do a better job than my own
teachers did.”

“Ah, revenge teaching. Now I get it,” he
teased.

Cheryl laughed. “It would have helped if
someone had noticed what I was going through, that’s all. And I
think I’ll notice when kids are having trouble. Or I’ll do my best
to, and I won’t just ignore it.”

“You’ve proven that already,” he said. He was
looking at her curiously now. “You had a rough time, huh?”

“You could say that. I’m not blaming my
teachers for it, but looking back I know I was displaying some
pretty obvious signs, and no one ever asked me how I was doing.
Well, except for my senior year English teacher.”

He looked like maybe he wanted to ask her
more about what sort of troubles she’d been having, but then
decided against it.

“Lucky for us it was an English teacher,” he
said, instead.

His comment warmed her heart, so of course
she ignored it. She also needed to stop talking so much about
herself before she said something she’d regret. If only he weren’t
so easy to talk to.

“So what about you?” she asked, anxious to
take the focus off herself, but genuinely interested as well. “Did
you always want to teach?”

“I wanted to be a professional baseball
player, but teaching was my backup plan.”

Cheryl laughed, then looked at his face and
realized he wasn’t joking.

“Really?” she asked, her surprise fading as
she took him in.

He was lean and tall, clearly athletic. Now
that she thought about it, it wasn’t hard to imagine him as a
baseball player. Though surely the odds were stacked against anyone
wanting a professional career in baseball.

“I was actually pretty good, if I do say so
myself, so it wasn’t a total fantasy,” he said. “I got recruited to
Oregon State on a full scholarship and played first and third base.
I had some scouts checking me out in my junior year, but then I
tore my ACL and had to sit out the rest of the season. I played
again senior year, but it was never the same.”

“Wow, that sucks,” Cheryl said, feeling for
him.

“Yeah, it really did, but I’m okay with it
now.”

“Your dream died before it ever had a chance
and you’re totally fine with it? I’m not sure I would be.”

Jason laughed. “Okay, you caught me. I was
trying to sound mature, but I do still think about it. I wouldn’t
say I’m torn up or bitter, though. There’s no way to know if I’d
have made it. I play in a league now, so I didn’t give it up
entirely. And anyway, I really do love teaching.”

“The baseball world lost out, but the kids of
Henderson, Nevada, got lucky.”

“That’s really sweet.”

She looked away, unable to hold his gaze.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I needed to do
something, and I suppose teaching had kind of been there at the
back of my mind, since both my parents are teachers. I had to stay
in school an extra year to finish my degree, but in the end it
worked out well enough.”

They were both quiet for a second, thinking
their own thoughts.

“I’m heading to the teachers’ lounge,” he
said, gathering some papers from his desk. “Care to join me?”

***

Jason led the way up one flight of stairs and
into another wing of the building, then stood back and let Cheryl
precede him into the teacher’s lounge. When they both had a mug
full of the sub-par coffee they took a seat at one of the dozen
round tables. It was full at the lunch hour, all the teachers not
on cafeteria duty congregating to eat their sandwiches and bitch
about their day.

Though Cheryl had been in the school for two
weeks now, this was the first time she’d come to the lounge. All
the other days she’d begged off to prep for the classes she was
teaching. He was inordinately pleased that she was joining him
today. Somehow he always wanted more time with her.

There were several other teachers at their
table and Jason introduced her, then kept quiet as they all took
turns asking the usual questions – how was she liking it so far,
how was Jason treating her, etc.

The two men at the table, both middle-aged,
one married, one recently divorced, leaned toward her, listening
avidly to her cautious replies. But who could blame them, really?
She was like some rare flower springing up in a dreary parking lot.
Even with her hair pulled back and little or no makeup, there was
no disguising how pretty she was. She was too vibrant to fade into
the background.

“Where are you from?” Hank, the divorced one,
asked.

“Ohio,” she replied. “But I’ve been out here
for over six years now.”

Jason sat up straight. Why didn’t he know
that? Had he really never asked such a basic question?

“What brought you out here?” asked Tom, the
married one.

Cheryl’s expression turned guarded and her
shoulders tensed ever so slightly. “Someone I knew in high school
moved out here and told me how easy it was to get a job, so off I
went.”

“Lucky for us,” quipped Hank, and Jason had
the unpleasant realization that Hank could flirt with her but he
couldn’t.

The thought didn’t sit well.

He tried to shake off his annoyance over how
the men were reacting to her. He couldn’t blame them, and anyway
she certainly wasn’t flirting back. She did start asking them a lot
of questions, but he got the sense that was more to divert
attention away from herself.

Observing her like this, he got the feeling
there was a lot going on under the surface. He’d seen how
passionate she was when she wasn’t feeling self-conscious, but it
was obvious she didn’t like talking about herself. Still, they were
spending so much time together, he was bound to find out more about
her. Until then he’d just have to be patient.

***

“Come on, Candy, don’t do this to me,” Cheryl
begged, once again trying to start her car.

It was after five and it had been a long day.
All Cheryl wanted was to go home, have an iced tea and close her
eyes for a few minutes before starting on her work. But Candy was
having none of it. The car emitted a sick, grinding noise and
refused to turn over.

Defeated, she leaned her forehead against the
steering wheel and groaned.

“Everything all right?”

Cheryl jumped in her seat and straightened up
to find Jason looking at her through the open window.

“No, everything is definitely not all
right.”

Swinging the car door open she got out and
stood next to him, feeling sweaty and disheveled from the
sweltering car and her rising frustration. Her sleeveless pink
blouse stuck to her body and she could feel her makeup, light as it
was, melting off her face.

“She just won’t start, and usually she’s
really reliable.”

“She? What’s her name?” He asked, smiling at
her.

“Her name is Candy, thank you for asking.”
She blew at the flyaway strands of hair that had escaped her
ponytail and landed in her eyes. “I suppose I’d better call a
tow.”

“Want me to take a look?” he asked, moving
around to the hood.

“Sure, knock yourself out,” she said, ducking
into the car to release the hood.

She stood beside him as he peered down into
Candy’s nether regions.

“It looks like it’s the timing belt. Which
isn’t great, but it’s also not the end of the world. There’s a
decent garage a few blocks away. I actually have their number in my
cell. Why don’t you give them a call and have them tow the car
there, and I’ll give you a lift home.”

“I guess that makes sense,” she said, trying
to sound reasonable, even as her gaze strayed to his motorcycle and
her heartbeat kicked into overdrive.

“Unless that would make you nervous,” he
continued, having noticed her glance at his bike. “I know they’re
not for everyone, but I promise I’ll get you home safe.”

This was basically the fantasy she’d been
entertaining ever since seeing him ride off on Friday. But that
didn’t mean she had to treat it like that. It certainly wasn’t
going to end like her fantasy did, with him taking her to a field
of daisies – not that such a thing existed in Nevada – and having
his way with her.

If only she didn’t react so strongly to him.
She gave lap dances to strangers without feeling anything, and yet
she got all stupid over the idea of a ride home with this man.

“That would be great,” she said.

Jason handed her his phone and she made the
call.

“It’ll be about twenty minutes,” she told
him, handing him the phone back. “Maybe we should wait inside.”

Cheryl walked with him to the front doors and
together they banged and called out, but no one heard them. There
were surely still teachers and students inside, but after three
o’clock the doors were locked and you could only leave the
building. No one was allowed to re-enter.

Turning around they both looked out at the
baking parking lot, then at each other. The temperature hovered
somewhere in the mid-nineties, with only the portico as shelter
from the heat. It kept the sun off but didn’t do much to cool
them.

“You really don’t have to wait here with me,”
Cheryl said. “I can get the tow guy to bring me home, or call a
cab. There’s no reason for you to suffer, too.”

“Who says I’m suffering?” Jason replied,
raising an eyebrow at her. “Anyway, I said I’d drive you home, and
I will. The truck’ll be here soon.”

“If you’re sure,” she said, secretly glad he
wasn’t leaving.

She retrieved her bag along with a bottle of
water and came back to sit next to Jason. He declined her offer of
a drink but she took a long pull of the warm water and immediately
felt better. Somehow he managed to look perfectly cool and
collected, the barest sheen of sweat gilding the smooth gold skin
of his arms and cheekbones. With a sigh of what sounded like
contentment, he sat back on his elbows so that he was stretched
out, his hard, athletic body on full display.

Cheryl took another deep drink of water, but
she was still getting hotter by the second. Desperate, she dumped
the rest over her head.

Her relief was short-lived, however. Opening
her eyes, she looked down at her top. It had been light and thin to
begin with. Now it was transparent, the little red hearts on her
bra showing clearly through the pale pink fabric.