Thirty Days: Part One (13 page)

“Spill,” he demands.

“Righto, Mr. Pushy. So, firstly I’m a high school teacher at a Catholic private school. Well, I was, you will need to keep this in mind—”

“Oh. That visual is now definitely in my mind. You do realise that will be the current visual for all teenage masturbation sessions, right?”

“Umm…eww.”

“Sad, but true. Those breasts and thighs, that tight arse. I would be masturbating over you if I were your student.” He licks his lower lip.

“Double eww.”

“Just saying it how it is, Miss McMillian. Even saying Miss McMillian makes me want to flog off right now, actually.” His gaze has me spellbound and my panties become wet from his words. “Abigail.” His voice is warm, inviting.

“Yes?”

“Where were we?”

“Oh, yes. Your lewd remarks. If you don’t stop them, there will be no more story for you.”
Pulsating in my nether regions be gone.

“Fine.” He playfully sulks.

“Okay, so, I teach years eight through ten in Business Technologies and Accounting. There is this one kid in my year nine class, Billy Bradshaw, who is a pain in my butt. His parents are benefactors of the school. He’s an only child, of course, and he thinks he’s a stud. You should see him walking around the school like he owns the place. The biggest problem I have with him is he never listens, always interrupts, and makes lewd remarks about everything, a bit like you,” I tease. “He, too, is an arsehole.”

Marcus’ lips curl upwards. “Yeah, I know that type of kid, every school has one. Continue.”

“I’m guessing you were yours.”

“Nope. I was a nerd.” His eyes tell me he’s lying, but I play along.

“A lot of crap went down six months ago in my life. It broke me, to be honest. I really should have taken the day off that day and not gone to school. I was definitely not in a mind frame to be teaching or doing anything. I got super drunk the night before, so there’s a good chance I was still wasted when I actually showed up. You can imagine they don’t take that lightly.”

His eyebrows lift, yet he doesn’t seem to be judging me.

“Billy just got up in my face. He debated every situation the entire morning lesson. He just made me boiling mad. I snapped when he declared in front of the entire class, and I quote, ‘I put Miss McMillian over my knee and spanked her hard last night, didn’t I, miss?’ He then blamed my absentmindedness that morning on my inability to take my eyes off him because he took me so hard the night before.”

“Wow,” he mouths.

“Well, yes, wow. I just snapped. I got in his face and began screaming, telling him that he was a worthless human being who plans to ride his life out on his parents’ coattails. I threw a white board marker at him and then left the school grounds and my class unsupervised. Currently, I’m on unpaid leave to sort my shit out and will return at the end of January next year if that is what I want to do.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah, I degrade children instead of helping them. Fucking great teacher I am.” Sadness makes my shoulders droop.

“What happened to make you snap?”

“Nothing I plan to talk to you about.”

There’s a sudden and awkward silence, but it soon lifts.

“I see. Well, I think his punk arse needed a beating. What you did was a lot less than he deserved.”

“What I did was plain and simply wrong. Regardless of how much of a piece of crap that kid is, he’s only a teenager and I’m an adult. I still don’t know if I will return. But hey, there’s the dirt.”

“Maybe that moment will make an impact on his life. He probably hasn’t had anyone tell him off before.”

“Doubt it. Anyway, enough about me. Let’s talk about something else.”

“I can tell you about the time I spent the night in the lock-up if it will help?”

“Well, this I have to hear.”

We laughed and talked the entire night away. Marcus is such a great listener, but most of all he’s funny.

Taking a brief moment to look down at my watch, I’m alerted it’s 11:26 p.m. “It’s getting late. I really must be going. Thanks for—”

“Do you want to come back to mine for a coffee?” He drums his fingers on the table, slightly nervous.

“I’m pretty sure they have a coffee machine here.”

“No, it’s broken.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he says with ‘guilty’ written all over his face. “I only live a stone’s throw down the road.” He grabs my hand, pulling me to the railing and pointing down the beach to the Oasis high-rise apartments.

“At Oasis?”
No way.

“Yes.”

“Wow! A luxurious high-rise beachfront apartment on an assistant’s wage. You’re either extremely efficient with money, or you’re a manwhore. Which one is it?” I banter playfully.

“Not an apartment, the penthouse suite,” he replies, rather pleased by his living space.

“And you’re a gloat, I see.”

“There’s no reason I can’t take pride in what I own.”

“You’re such a manwhore then…aren’t you?”

His head tips back, and he laughs. The sound is like music to my ears. “So coffee?”

“Just coffee?” I question, offering him hope.

“Yes, just coffee.”

“Well…I don’t drink it, so no.”

His eyes light up. “You’re something.”

“Something that is leaving now. Thank you for a fun evening.”

“No problem. I’ll walk you out.” He extends a long-fingered hand to me. Our hands slip together with ease.

“If you must.”

Each stair becomes harder to take because his hand is now placed on my lower back. Maybe I could start to like coffee again if I tried hard enough. We walk like this until we get to Bertha.

“The VW. I saw this car at the cemetery when I pulled up.”

“You saw me too. Put two and two together, genius.”

“Touché.”

I turn to face him with Bertha behind my back.

“Have a good night. Don’t let your hex get you.” He chuckles.

“I wish I could control it. But I can’t. It could kill me before morning.”

His gaze is intense, all traces of humour gone. Swiftly he closes the small distance between us, forcing my back against the car. He places his hands on either side of my face and stares deeply into my eyes.

I don’t know why I do it, but my finger runs over the scar on his cheek, gently caressing the small rise of skin. Want—or is it need—for his touch sears through my blood.

“That would be a shame,” he says softly.

“What would?”
I’m overcome.

“Your death.”

His lips are so close to mine, I’m tempted to have a small taste, but refrain.

Stepping back from me, he looks towards the ground. I feel his absence and will his attention to return. “Do you drink tea?” His voice mirrors mine—nervous.

“Yes.”

“Would you like to come back for some tea?”

“I would,” I reply, without thinking about the answer.

“Good.” He takes my hand in his. “This way, Miss McMillian.”

I go with him like a lovesick teenager.
This is ridiculous.

Taking our time, we stroll along the footpath. I, of course, trip over thin air, and he manages to catch me on the way down. Maybe having him around might save me a few scraped knees.

“So you’re really cursed?” he asks after my near miss with the pavement.

“I am.”

We say nothing more. The silence makes me evaluate my motives for leaving with him. I tell myself that it’s just a cup of tea with a friend and colleague and I’m being nice. It still doesn’t stop the waves that crash inside my stomach and the flutters that are present in my chest.

***

The lift stops at the top level, the doors open, and we step off hand in hand. The sexual tension is at fever pitch. Every part of me wants his touch, but my heart and my head know this will never be a possibility.
It’s a cup of tea with a friend and that’s it, Abigail.

“This is home,” he says before punching numbers into a keypad by the door and pushing it open.

Walking in behind him, I must say the arse view I’m getting was worth the trip.

“Are you staring at my arse?”

Busted.
“Whatever do you mean?”

He chuckles as the apartment begins filling quickly with light.

“Wow. This is big.” My voice radiates how surprised I actually am.

“It’s definitely spacious.” He flicks more light switches on.

“You’re very neat,” I yell out, having no idea where he has gone.

“I like things to have a place.”

Neat? I like to live my life in a constant treasure hunt. I hunt through all my crap until I find what I’m looking for.
Totally not compatible.

The entire space is modern and well decorated. He definitely likes fine things. I’m still puzzled at how he can afford something like this.

Slowly making my way into the kitchen, I see him putting water into a coffee machine that’s homed on a large marble bench. Glancing over his shoulder, the view of the beach is even more stunning from this height.

“Can I?” I point towards the sliding door to a deck.

“Of course.”

Stepping out onto an oversized patio, a million miles away from the ground, I’m greeted by a crescent moon. The salty smell and taste of the sea water from this high up and the sound of the crashing waves helps me to relax. This place is so peaceful. If only I didn’t hate men so much, I might have been able to stay here forever.

Beautiful Mistake

“Such a beautiful view.” His tone is dreamy.

“It is,” I reply, still wrapped up in the peacefulness of the ocean. I can sense him close, too close.

One hand and then a second grab onto the bar on either side of mine. His body presses against my back. A tickling sensation fills my senses as his breath runs along my neck.

Losing my inhibitions, I allow my head to tip sideways, giving him access.
Stop, Abigail.

“You’re definitely the definition of beauty,” he breathes before soft lips make contact with my skin,
perfectly
. His nose runs along my jawline.

I begin to melt into him. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched this way. Even though this has to end, a minute more seems harmless.

“Abigail,” he murmurs, kissing my neck again, “what I wouldn’t give to take you right now.”

My head dances with visions of pleasure. Pleasure that’s been a distant memory for far too long. My eyes close. I want this. Him. But I can’t.

One of his hands releases the railing and wraps around my waist, pulling me tightly against him. A bulge presses into my lower back, causing a moan to escape me. Five fingers splay across my stomach. I will for them to move higher. They do. My breast now sits cupped in his hand as his lips perch over my ear.

“Let me have you,” he whispers.

The railing no longer holds my body upright as I’m spun into him. Strong arms embrace me protectively…lovingly. His dark eyes search mine.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he says as if asking permission.

I nod.

Slowly his head moves towards me, his lips inviting. Fingers skim over my naked back until his hand lands at the base of my neck, holding me in place. Throbbing pulses tell me I want this kiss more than air. His mouth finds mine, softly, passionately at first, and then I gasp as he slips his tongue into my open mouth. Everything about this moment is exceptional. The only problem is it needs to end, now.

“I can’t, Marcus,” I plead, pulling away, overcome with so much emotion, I can’t focus.

“Okay,” he replies calmly, releasing me and then stepping backwards.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His hand gently cups my cheek. “I’d never do anything you didn’t want to.”

Pressing firmer into his palm, I wish more than all the stars sprinkling the night sky that I could.

“I should go.”