She wanted to hit him. There was defeat written in the way James slouched over her battered kitchen table, written in the angry tension in his shoulders and the way his bright green eyes avoided hers. He’d given up, and Alice could think of jack shit that she could do to change his mind.
Leaning back, she blew out a frustrated breath. Between them were her tools, books, pencils, paper, calculator. Tonight, her third meeting with James, was to have been the grand battle, the fight that would have finally wrung some sign of surrender from her student and make him submit. Submit to finally learning something about statistics, so that they could salvage this last chance at a diploma. Now, it looked like the battle was over before she could even begin. ‘Shit.’
‘Yeah, exactly.’ James shoved his book away, sent it sliding across the scarred wood into her books and sending pencils tumbling from the table like lemmings. ‘This stuff’s all shit. Why don’t we just go for a beer?’
‘Damn it, James, I don’t want a beer. I want that fucking money that your father promised me if I could get you to pass. Why are you so committed to failing this test?’ Alice stomped out with one foot, stopping a pencil from escaping beneath her refrigerator. ‘You’re this close to passing and getting your father off your back.’
‘You think?’ James shook his head. ‘Not fucking likely. That old bastard won’t be done until I’m as unhappy as he is. I should have dropped out last year.’ He stood up, eyes stormy and body tense in its black jeans and T-shirt. ‘Sorry Alice, I know you could probably use that bonus, but it’s not happening. Just take what the bastard gave you for all these lessons and we’ll skip the rest. I can use the time for rehearsal.’
‘Wait.’ James’s hand was already on the door, twisting the knob, but he stopped. ‘One more chance. Next week, one more. I’ll figure out some way to beat this stuff into your head. C’mon.’ His eyes flicked over his shoulder to meet hers.
‘It’s a waste of time. Fuck it though. I’ll give you one last crack at me.’ There was a smile in his voice as he opened the door and stepped through into the night. ‘You’re cute when you’re frustrated.’
‘I thought you gave up tutoring.’ Eve dropped the glasses to the table, sending beer sloshing dangerously close to the rims. ‘Wasn’t worth it.’
‘It wasn’t. Then this bastard upped the price.’ Alice waited until the beer had settled before picking it up for a long swallow. ‘Paid me as much to prep one kid for one test as I made off of doing five for a whole semester. And promised me triple if he passed.’
‘Nice. Except the kid…’
‘Won’t. Hates school, hates his dad, hates the class. Doesn’t hate me, but then we’ve had less than three hours together and he spent most of that staring at my tits.’ Alice set down the beer. ‘I thought it might work. He’s not stupid. When he listened, he got this shit. But James doesn’t want to listen; he’d rather be playing his bass.’
‘Bass? James?’ Eve cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘James what?’
‘James Miller.’
‘James Miller? Plays for Bend and Deliver? Tall, dark hair, good-looking in that suspicious, mischievous sort of way that makes you think you’d be better off with out him, once you’ve had one last good fuck?’
‘I’m not quite sure about that, but yeah, sounds like him. Know him?’
Eve snorted. ‘I went with him for a couple of months two years ago. Don’t you remember me talking about him?’
‘No.’
‘Thick-dick?’
‘James is thick-dick?’ Alice remembered her friend’s stories. ‘You said he was younger, but…’
‘He was nineteen, and I wasn’t thirty. Yet. Anyway, there you go.’ Eve smirked at her over her glass.
‘What?’
‘That’s how you motivate him.’
Alice frowned at her friend. ‘What the hell are you suggesting?’
‘You want him to listen, right? And you said he’s been checking you out. So offer to fuck him if he passes. Ample motivation for a man.’ Eve settled her glass down and gave Alice her most reasonable look. ‘Look, he was a nice guy, which is fucking rare in a musician, and a fabulous fuck. I wasn’t kidding when I called him thick-dick, and he knew how to use it. If Landon hadn’t come back from New York, I wouldn’t have let him get away. What a piss-poor decision that was.’
‘I’m not a whore, Eve.’
‘Course not. You wouldn’t be broke if you were. It’s just a more… traditional teaching method. You said he’d learn if you could get him to pay attention, and you’ve got a great attention-getter right there under your skirt.’
‘Eve, I’m this close to pitching this beer in your face.’ Alice tapped the glass warningly.
‘Fine. I try to help.’ Eve leaned back, eyes tragic. Then she grinned. ‘Hey, if you don’t want to reward him, you could at least threaten him.’ Alice rolled her eyes pointedly away, but Eve kept going. ‘Didn’t I tell you about his kink? Must’ve been too focused on the girth issue. James loved being spanked. Loved it. I ever wanted to get him ready, a couple of whacks on the backside and boom, at attention and raring to go.’
‘And this information helps me how?’
‘Well, if he doesn’t listen to you, give his ass a good smack. That’ll get him focused. Show him a little discipline from the headmistress, right?’
‘Yeah. You’re a great help, Eve. Wonderful advice. Screw him or smack his arse.’ Not that the idea of cracking the lazy punk across the backside didn’t have its appeal. Especially since it was such a nice backside. Alice shook off the idea and stood. ‘Another round?’
‘Of course. And hey,’ Eve snagged her hand as Alice started to walk away, ‘if you haven’t figured out that you can deal with ninety-five percent of your problems with men with one of those two options, it’s no wonder you aren’t getting laid.’
Alice scrubbed the damp towel through her hair and stared at the clothes she had laid out on the bed. Dark skirt, long, buttoned neatly down the side. Black shirt, long-sleeved, collared, buttoned. Black hose that reached up to mid-thigh. Black bra and panties, lacy, see-through, sexy. And there it was, right there. This wasn’t just some last desperate attempt to claim the money James’s father had promised her for success. If it was, she could have worn her regular old cotton underwear. This was, at least partly, about sex.
‘Hell,’ she whispered, and dropped the towel. Ever since she’d talked with Eve the idea had been growing. It tried to hide itself in logic at first. This was the only way she had of getting through to him. He didn’t need this degree, a rich kid, member of a band that was getting some interest on the local scene, maybe even beyond. Why not take a chance, see what happened? It might work, and she might get her bonus. It might work, and she might see those green eyes look at her with something other than irritation at being forced to do a hated task or the casual speculation of boredom. She might see them flicker with desire.
Alice reached out and picked up the panties and stepped into them. They were snug, silky smooth. Wearing them, she felt more naked. Almost a year without a boyfriend, without a lover, too caught up in her writing and jobs and stress. ‘So what if it is about sex. I could fucking use some.’ With a wry smile, she began to pull on the rest of her outfit and plot out the character she was going to play.
Standing in her tiny kitchen, Alice looked up at the grinning cat clock on the wall and tapped her fingers on her arm. James was ten minutes late, and if he didn’t show soon she was going to lose all her nerve. In the night dark glass of the door, she could see herself, arms folded and face tense. The look was right at least, her rigid posture complementing the glasses she wore tonight and the tight bun that held her hair. The costume was good, the scene was set, and she’d been practicing her lines, but now the audience was absent. Alice frowned at her dark reflection and wondered if she should be relieved or disappointed when the dark glass vibrated with a hard knock.
‘Come in,’ she called, making her voice as hard and level as possible. James was dressed as usual, dark boots, faded jeans and a crumpled T-shirt tight enough to show off the lean strength of his chest and arms. He stopped at the door to stomp out the butt of a cigarette, then came in, looking her over curiously.
‘You’re late, Mr Miller,’ she said in the same firm voice. It surprised her that she could keep it that way while butterflies swarmed through her stomach. Maybe she should have trained as an actress instead of a playwright. Apparently she had some talent, and in any case she’d be just as unemployed.
‘Yeah, I know. Look, I’m just here…’
‘Mr Miller, you’re here to learn statistics. No more, no less.’ Alice reached down and lightly slapped the cover of the textbook that sat alone on the table next to her. ‘A task you have been shirking.’
‘What’s up, Alice?’ He seemed more amused than anything else, clearly trying to figure out her new attitude, the sudden change from her usual chumminess.
‘Ms Smith, Mr Miller. That is how you will address me. As for what is up, the answer is your time for lollygagging around. I’ve had quite enough of your attitude. It is time now, I believe, for stricter methods.’
‘Really? Like what?’ James leaned against the door, grinning at her, sensing some kind of game at hand. For some reason, that sly grin pushed the butterflies right out of Alice. This might have started as some sort of ploy on her part, a last half-assed attempt to provoke some interest from her student, but now her palm suddenly itched to wipe that smile from his face.
‘Mr Miller, I recall that at the end of our second lesson, I assigned you twenty problems to complete. May I have them?’
‘What?’ He was still grinning, but his eyes were a little uncertain as she kept the steel in her voice.
‘I take it that you have not completed them then. Any of them.’ Alice shook her head. ‘Mr Miller, I’m quite disappointed. Come to the table.’ James arched an eyebrow at her, but she didn’t blink. ‘Come here, now.’ Still staring at her, he slowly pulled himself off the wall and crossed to her. Looming over her, tall, broad-shouldered, she could smell the sharp scent of soap overlying the thin trace of his sweat. ‘Now bend and take hold of the table edge, Mr Miller.’
‘Why?’ he asked her. His grin was gone, and his eyes had a wary mix of suspicion and anticipation.
‘I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice, Mr Miller. My earlier benevolence has obviously failed. So now we shall try something more traditional, more strict. Bend over.’ She made the words menacing, but had to fight to keep a nervous smile away. Then, amazingly, he did it. Turning from her, he leaned over and grasped the table edge. Alice stared at him, not quite believing it for a moment. This man, young, attractive, rough, bending at her command… her eyes went down to his ass, round and tight in his dark jeans, and a quiver ran through her. She owed Eve an apology.
‘How many problems were you assigned?’
‘Twenty, ma’am.’
Ma’am. Alice savoured the word, watched James’ body tense as he waited in the silence. Time stretched as she let his anticipation build, before she continued. ‘Twenty.’ Drawing back her hand, she hesitated. How hard? Staring at his body, hard and strong, she decided quickly that it was unlikely she could hurt him with a bare hand slap on the backside. It was more likely he would barely feel it. Widening her stance a bit, she wound up and readied herself. ‘You will count to twenty for me then.’ Then she swung, whipping her hand about to catch him on the lower curve of his right cheek.
The sound was louder than she thought; a sharp crack that echoed in the tiny kitchen. The strike jarred her, made her palm hot, but James barely moved. ‘One,’ he whispered. Her palm might burn, but it was nothing now compared to the sudden fire between her legs.
‘Count more loudly, James,’ she ordered and swung again. Harder. This time he moved as her hand struck his other cheek, rocking slightly.
‘Two,’ he spoke, voice harsh. Ignoring the sting in her hand, Alice wound up again. ‘Three…Four…Five…’ Alternating from one side of his arse to the other, she struck harder with each slap as he called out the number. On the last five, he barely had time to call out the count, and his ‘Twenty!’ was more of a bellow than a number as she struck him for the last time.
Done, Alice stared at James leaning over the table panting and watched the trickles of sweat that ran down from his dark hair over the hard lines of his face. Breathing hard herself, Alice’s whole body burned with exertion, lust, and a fierce possessiveness. She leaned forward and wrapped her fingers into the long strands of hair that flowed across his neck, turning his head to her. His eyes were bright with the same hunger she felt.
‘Listen carefully to me, Mr Miller. I am your teacher. You will do as I say, do you understand? You will study, do your work, and pass this test. Understand?’ His head moved against her hand in acknowledgment. ‘Good.’ Releasing him, she stepped away and wiped her palm across her breast, fighting for poise. She wanted… wanted… But not yet. Not tonight. She could stay in control.
But could he? The muscles in his jaw were bunched and twisted as if he were trying to swallow back his need. Alice straightened herself up, made herself iron. ‘Twenty problems, Mr Miller. Go home and do them. Then bring them back here on Thursday.’ His face was dark with frustration, and she could almost hear his body hum with tension. ‘Show up without them, and I’m afraid I’ll have to give up on you. No more lessons. Understand?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ A rasping whisper.
‘Thursday then.’ Only after the sound of his car was gone did she let herself relax, sliding down the wall to rest on the cold tiles. Her palms stung, her arm ached, and between her legs a fire burned.
On Thursday, he showed up with his problems complete. Alice corrected them, savagely drawing a large red X through the wrong answers. Ten wrong. Adding ten more strokes for bad penmanship, that was twenty more strikes, again with her hand, but she made him pull his pants down this time. Each time she struck, she could see the red mark of her palm on that lovely skin, and when she was done he was crimson. Twenty new problems, then, and she told him to come back on Sunday afternoon.
On Sunday, only six wrong. Alice congratulated him, before taking exception again to his writing, and his attitude. Twenty strikes. In the bright afternoon sun that streamed in through the windows, she made him pull down his pants and bend over her lap so that she could stripe him with the wooden ruler she had bought just for it. As he jerked from its sting, she could feel his cock pressing hard against her thighs. Eve had been right, he was thick, and as the ruler cracked Alice had felt herself growing wet, wondering how it would feel to take that thickness in. She could fill herself up with him, let him stretch her as she wrapped her legs around his waist… The thought made her lose track of her count, and she had to start again. James didn’t argue.
Ignoring the damp spot he’d left on her skirt, she’d told him to come back on Tuesday. James had to remind her that that was when his test was. ‘Well then. If you pass, I expect I will see you Wednesday to go over the test.’ Alice had made her gaze cool and level as she said it, meeting his burning eyes. After he’d gone, she wondered what would happen if he failed, if he didn’t show up. ‘Little bugger better not take it that literally,’ she growled to herself, rubbing her fingertips across her skirt front. The bonus had become a much less important issue for her.
Wednesday evening and Alice paced nervously through the house. As the night deepened, she wondered if she should call him, but slapped the impulse down. That wasn’t how this worked. She was the teacher, and he would come to her. Still, when the back door finally rattled, she heaved a sigh of relief and had to work hard to keep from running to it.
‘Let’s see.’ Alice held out her hand, frowning slightly at James, barely keeping the excitement she felt from leaking out. James was doing an excellent poker face behind his sulking schoolboy act, and she would live up to it. Finally, he jerked a folded sheet out of his back pocket and handed it to her.
Alice made a production of it, slowly unfolding the paper and staring silently at it through her glasses. ‘Well, Mr Miller.’ A hot stirring ran between her legs, making them wobbly, but she stayed straight. ‘Adequate. You managed to pass. Well then.’ She reached out her hand and held it in front of him. His act slipped a little as he stared at it in confusion, then reached out to take it. Alice gave him a firm handshake. ‘Congratulations young man. You won’t have to deal with me any more, will you? No more discipline from the old bat, right?’ The look in his eyes had an edge of panic. ‘You’re lucky, really, considering how my palms itch just looking at that C. You would have had an A if you’d only applied yourself. Very lucky, Mr Miller.’
‘I suppose…’
‘Suppose what?’ She stepped close to him, almost brushing against him, to stare up disapprovingly. ‘Suppose you could have done better?’
His mouth stretched into that cocksure grin. ‘You really think I could have satisfied you?’
‘If you…’ His lips crushed her words into her as he pressed them against hers. Lust washed through her, made her want to wrap her arms around him as his tongue brushed between her lips, but she pushed him away.
‘How dare you, James.’ The words were right, but the shaky eagerness of her voice wasn’t in character. ‘That was very, very bad. You’re going to suffer for it.’ Her hands reached out, grasped the buckle of his belt and yanked it free. He rocked a little then balanced himself as she slipped the thick leather strap from his belt loops. Wrapping it around her hand, she pointed to the table. ‘Take your position, Mr Miller. And take off those clothes.’
He did as he was told, though he never lost his smile. His body was hard and lean, the skin dark with sun except for the pale band around his groin and over his arse. That smooth white skin pulled her eyes to it, the round swell of his buttocks ripe for punishment, the heavy, jutting thickness of his sex promising a sweet punishing pleasure of its own. When he leaned forward, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and sweeping her hand down his back to his bottom. ‘Bad boys get punished, James. Punished badly.’
The first stroke was light, barely tapping him. The leather belt was wide and flat, and she feared havoc if she swung too hard. Slowly though, her arm drew back, swinging the belt harder. The fourth stroke left a nice red line across both cheeks. By the seventh, both cheeks were flame red. On the eleventh, he groaned as he was struck, breath hissing through clenched teeth.
‘Between one and ten more strikes, James. How many do you deserve?’ Alice had spent some time reading up on this sort of thing on the internet, getting ideas.
‘Ten more, Ms Smith. I was very bad.’
‘Yes, you were. Now count.’ The belt cracked, and Alice ever so carefully edged up its power with each stroke until the last one almost knocked him over. Breathing deep, she stared at the flaming skin of his backside. He’d have marks from this that would last awhile: her marks, and the thought inflamed her more. Lightly, she drew her fingers across the sensitive skin, watching him jerk. ‘Maybe now you’ll remember your manners, James.’ Alice let her hand circle lazily, sending it around his hip to find the rigid heat of his cock. She tapped it lightly, and then circled her fingers around it, liking its weight in her hand. ‘Though sometimes, James, I’ll wonder if you’ll ever learn.’ Her lips brushed his ear as she whispered to him, and she gave his sex a gentle squeeze.
‘Not today, ma’am. Not today.’ He moved fast, and Alice barely had time to release him as he twisted towards her, catching hold of her and scooping her up to dump down on kitchen table. Alice sprawled backwards, palms slipping on the wood as he jerked at the skirt, popping buttons free and sending them skittering across the kitchen.
‘You are being very bad now, James,’ Alice hissed at him, shifting her hips to help him as he pulled the skirt open, exposing her up to the hips.
‘I know. I can’t wait to see what you do to me for this.’ His fingers wrapped around the wet fabric of her panties and Alice felt a blaze of pleasure as they brushed across the lips of her sex. He jerked the silken barrier down her legs and off, then came forward again, his cock brushing her thighs as he pushed close.
‘Wait,’ warned Alice, barely able to say the word around the raging desire that demanded her to spread herself wide. Fingers did a clumsy dance as she fished in a shirt pocket for the slick square of plastic hidden there. ‘You need a fucking rubber. What the hell do they teach you university boys?’
‘Not enough about fucking.’ He ripped open the plastic and stretched the condom over his cock. ‘But don’t worry, I’ve practiced.’
Alice felt him, the head of his cock pushing against the lips of her cunt, pressing them aside as it slipped forward. She was wet and ready, but still he had to push in slowly to let her body ease around him. ‘Oh, very, very good Mr Miller,’ she moaned.
‘Just… just trying to please, Ms Smith,’ he gasped back.
‘Don’t call me that. Call me ma’am.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Out, and then back in, faster when Alice raised her hips and wrapped her legs around him. Her heels brushed his abused bottom and he flinched, and sped up more. Alice laughed and pushed her calves down, rubbing across his backside, making him growl with pain and pleasure, making him fuck her harder until she felt the pleasure build to a spiking climax that made her sprawl back on the table and gasp out a long release, only dimly aware that James was pressing hard into her, groaning his own climax as his cock jerked in her.
Later, he apologised about her skirt, and Alice smiled. He was nice, especially for a musician, like Eve had said. Alice told him they could settle that later, and when he left, she kept his belt.