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If I’m not mistaken, he likes being watched just as much as I apparently do.
Exhibitionism was another one of those things where I’d read about it and been curious but never had any practical experience with until now. Much like the spanking bench from last night, now that I’ve had a taste of it, I don’t think I can ever go back to only having boring old vanilla sex.
If things end now—which I suspect they might—Phillip and Wesley have set a high bar for anyone who comes next.
My only hopes now are that I’m not responsible for driving a wedge in their friendship and that Jamie doesn’t hate me forever. That would really make classes more awkward.
But him seeing you have a toe curling, screaming orgasm on his best friend’s kitchen counter isn’t awkward? Girl, you really need to reevaluate your priorities.
I’ve completely run out of ways to stall my exit from the bathroom. Unless I want to do everything twice or camp out in here with no phone, I’m all out of options.
It’s the lack of a phone that lures me out of my hiding place in the end. I sigh with relief when I ease open the door and see it there on the counter.
I can hear their muffled voices from the adjoining living room.
I have to know what they’re saying, but I’m worried if they hear me coming they’ll probably censor themselves in a misguided attempt not to upset me. If I’ve learned anything from living with Kyle, it’s the more information I have, the safer I am.
Fortunately, with the kitchen’s layout, they won’t be able to see me at all until I’m practically standing in the doorway. Still, I’ll have to be sneaky.
I raise up on the balls of my feet and creep silently out to retrieve my phone. By the time I get it and stuff it into the jacket pocket, they still haven’t indicated they’ve heard me. I decide to press my luck and get as close to the doorway as I dare.
“You’re beating a dead horse,” Phillip says, exasperated. “I get it. I would have been caught off guard too, but it’s not the strangest thing we’ve ever seen in that kitchen.”
“Coming in to see you fucking our student on the kitchen island is not even close to the same thing as walking in on Wesley attempting to suspend shrimp in lime Jell-O. Do you have any idea what a massive mistake you’re making here? If any of this gets back to the university, you’re screwed. You’ll never be invited back. And for what? A roll in the sheets with someone young enough to be your daughter. I expected you to have more sense. Both you and Wesley should be ashamed of yourselves.”
Rationally, I know it takes two people to make a decision. Unfortunately, that knowledge pales against the overwhelming certainty that this is all my fault. I should have put a stop to this. It’s my responsibility to save them from themselves.
Jamie’s completely right. I am something to be ashamed of.
I can’t be in this house one second longer.
The French doors seem to gleam like a beacon of hope. If I leave there, I can go out the gate and be on the street waiting for my taxi before they even realize I’m gone. I won’t be able to shower or even get my clothes, but I won’t have to face any of them again.
Then as soon as the registrar’s office opens, I can request new teachers and I can put this horrible situation behind me.
How do you expect to do that without getting them or yourself in trouble?
Scheduling concerns.
Yes, that’s it. I’ll tell them that my son and my job are making it difficult to make these meetings and it will be easiest for me to switch to teachers with more open availability. They’ll buy that.
Speaking of buying, you’re going to have to get Mia a replacement dress.
I add that to my list too.
Okay, the taxi will be here in—I check my phone—less than two minutes.
Then it hits me like a ton of bricks.
My purse is on the table by the door. I need my license to get to work tomorrow.
Shit.
Besides my phone, that is the one thing I cannot leave here without.
Okay. You can do this. You’re going to run in there, grab the purse, and be out the door before they can even process what you did. Here we go.
I try to make my body move, but it doesn’t listen.
