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“Oh yeah, I went to the Bahamas recently.”
“Ugh.” She sips on her espresso martini. “I’m jealous. Last time I went on vacation was with my boyfriend and his parents to Lake Geneva in Wisconsin. Can you say boring?”
“Lake Geneva is beautiful though.” I smile, trying not to sound like I was bragging about the Bahamas.
“Did you say you were in the Bahamas?” Preston steps up behind me, standing between Bridgette and me, his hand resting on the back of my stool.
“Yeah, over Labor Day weekend.”
“Daaaamn, I was wondering why you didn’t show up to my beach party.” I give him a confused look. “Oh, I sent out an email.”
“Oh shoot, I must have missed it. I pretty much had my phone off the entire trip. Just wanted to disconnect, ya know?”
“Totally,” he says, looking over at Bridgette.
“Oh, um, I need to talk to Jeremy about something.” She grabs her martini and slips off her stool.
“So how are you liking teaching at Crestwood?” He takes a seat on the stool next to me, placing his beer on the bartop.
“I like it a lot. Not only are the teachers amazing, but the administration is so communicative and open to feedback. My favorite part is my students though.”
“Of course. I feel like my fourth graders are a riot; they always have me laughing.”
“I bet.” I take a sip of my vodka soda, nervously tapping the side of the glass as an awkward silence settles between us.
“Hey, so I’ve been wanting to ask you—”
“Game time!” Sean, one of our physical education teachers, appears out of nowhere behind us, slapping Preston on the back loudly. “Playing put a finger down, bitches. Let’s go!” he shouts, cupping his hand to the side of his mouth.
“I guess we’re playing putting a finger down?” I turn my stool to face the others, a look of disappointment on Preston’s face, but I’m relieved because the way that conversation was going, I’m almost positive he was about to ask me out.
“Okay, I’ll go first,” Bridgette says in her mouselike voice. “Put a finger down if”—she giggles—“you’ve had sex in your parents’ bed.”
“Ewww!” someone says dramatically as several people put a finger down.
“Put a finger down if you’ve ever been arrested,” Sean says, putting his down immediately. “Hey, I was only sixteen and it was for skinny-dipping so it was just a misdemeanor,” he shouts.
“I am not surprised.” Nate, our music teacher, laughs.
We continue with the game and it’s getting closer to my turn. “I have no idea what to say.” I look over at Preston nervously. I still have all ten of my fingers up. Clearly, I haven’t taken many risks at all. My phone dings in my bag that’s on my lap and I pull it out. There’s a message from Weston.
Weston:Put a finger down if you’ve ever had your brains fucked out in the bathroom of a bar.
My head snaps up as I quickly flip my phone over so nobody can see the message. I glance around and that’s when I see him, leaning against the doorway of the hall that leads to the restrooms.
“I have to go to the restroom,” I say, sliding off my stool and quickly walking toward the back of the bar. I round the corner, almost running into Weston’s chest.
“What are you doing here?” He doesn’t respond; he just grabs my arm and pulls me into the women’s restroom, locking the door behind us.
“I think you know why I’m here.” He reaches for his belt, undoing it as he pushes against the center of my back. “Hold on to the sink.”
“What?” I look back at him over my shoulder as he unzips his pants.
“Fuck, you look good in this little dress.” He slides his hand up my leg, beneath the dress to grab a handful of my ass. He pulls it up over my ass, smacking me hard before pulling my panties to the side. “But you need to be reminded who you belong to.”
I grip the edge of the sink as he presses himself against me. “Ahh!” The intrusion is painful.
He pulls back and slides in further, pushing me up onto my toes. He wraps my ponytail around his hand, holding it tightly as he tugs me back so I’m looking at him in the mirror. “I want you sitting there next to him with my cum dripping out of you. Tell me, baby, tell me who you belong to.” He doesn’t stop his movements; they grow harder and faster.
