“I’m not really sure what that means.” I laugh, taking a drink of my beer to hide my blush.
He lifts me up and sets me on the counter, spreading my legs and moving in between them. “Forbidden relationships, Shannon. Like this one.”
“Hmm, but it’s not really all that dangerous for me, though. That’s what you said last night.”
“Who cares? You’re not even into it yet. I am. So I’m the one who needs the thrill.”
Jesus. I am not used to twenty-eight-year-old guys. They just say whatever the fuck they want. I’m used to Sundays. Although he’s sweeter than I’m used to as well.
“You better be thinking about me,” Mateo says. His hands are on my thighs, rubbing them softly.
I’m definitely thinking about him.
“And don’t worry. If sucking my dick in the classroom isn’t enough to thrill you, I’ll think up something that will.”
My mouth makes this little O shape. I exhale as I picture me on my knees in front of his chair in the classroom, my lips wrapped around his thick cock.
“That do it for you?”
I nod. I cannot wait.
“Well, good.” And then he turns around, grabs a red book off the table, and plops it down on the counter next to me.
“Your homework. You like tests? You want to pass this class with tests? I got your book changed. They use this one for the self-paced trig class at Fullerton College. So it will transfer.”
I shake my head a little. The switch from sucking him off in the classroom to trig throws me back.
“What?” he asks, a smile creeping out. “You thought I was gonna pass you for sucking my cock? Please. You gotta earn everything with me, Shannon.”
“OK, I’m just surprised by the subject change.” But what else is new. Everything about him is a surprise.
“So here’s the deal. You do one test each time we’re together and then I fuck your brains out.”
“Hand it over.” I laugh.
“Ah, but there’s a catch. You gotta pass the test too.”
“Dammit. I can’t just pass a test in trig.”
“They typically only have a few questions.”
“Yeah, but those questions will take forever to work out.”
“Well, since you’re a beginner, I’ll cut you some slack for the first week. Every time you take a test, I’ll let you suck my dick.”
“Oh, my God.” He’s crazy.
“If you get one question right, I’ll lick your pussy.” He whispers that last part in my ear and I’m really going to need new underwear.
I take a deep breath. “What if I get two right?”
“Nah, it’s not that easy, grasshopper. Every time we meet and you take a test, you suck my dick. Every time you get one right, I lick your pussy. If you don’t pass the test, you don’t get fucked. But maybe I’ll let you rub one out in front of me to hold you over until next time.”
I throb. I need that cock. I mean, if I didn’t have to be so close to him, I could do without. But I will die if I have to come here for weeks and not get laid.
“And just to make it interesting, you’re gonna study naked. Take off your clothes.”
I don’t know much about this world. I’m only eighteen. I feel like a little baby seahorse in a sea of sharks, that’s how confusing life is for me right now. But I do know one thing for sure.
I should walk out of this house, call the police, and tell them what Mateo is doing.
I also know I’m not even close to doing those things. Some fucked-up part of me is intrigued, turned on, and on my way to being addicted to him.
I don’t give him the WTF are you talking about look or act shocked. Why would I? He prepped me for this, I realize. Last night when he came over.
‘Take your clothes off’ is a command I’ve heard before. Something I’ve obeyed before. He even gives me these few seconds to work this all out.
And it pays off. Because I lift my shirt over my head, slip my jeans down my legs, unclasp my bra, let it slide down my arms to the floor, and then wiggle out of my underwear. I stand there naked in front of him as a condition of being given the opportunity to learn trig, take a test, give him a blow job, get at least one question right, and get my pussy licked.
I’m officially sick.
But instead of thinking about how many therapy sessions I will require when this semester is over, I wonder… “How hard can the first test be?”
Mateo actually laughs.
I love laughing Mateo.
“You’re gonna pass that one, Shannon, but it won’t be as easy as you think,” he says, taking in my body with that wolfish gaze he has. “So let’s get started.” He points to the small kitchen table. There are only two chairs, one on each side of a window that faces the driveway. The blinds are up and the curtains are open. The house is sitting up higher than the driveway so if anyone did walk by, they probably could not see me.
“A kid from your high school lives next door,” Mateo says, probably reading my mind. Because that’s when I see the window across the driveway. There’s no blinds or curtains in that one either. “If you sit here too long,” Mateo says, flipping on the lights—I look up at the bulbs dangling over the table—“it will get dark out, and believe me, he will see you. And he’ll see me, my hands fisting your hair, as I fuck your face.”
I look over at him. I want to ask all the questions. Like why? Why do you do this shit?
But I know why. It’s the same reason I let him drag me into this completely insane scenario. He likes it. It turns him on to think of people watching us. It turns him on to scare me into doing the things he wants with the threat of humiliation.
So why bother asking? I like it too. I just nod. “We better get busy then.”
He bares his teeth in a grin. “I hope you’re a quick learner, Shannon.”
“I can be.”
He frowns. “Explain. I hate wasting my time.”
“I’m not good at math, Mateo. I’m good at memorizing things, so I learn the steps to solve the problems and I repeat them on tests. I’m not good at school, I’m just good at tests. That’s how I got through those AP classes. So if you want to waste time teaching me theory, or the reasons why math is the way it is, or force me to understand what I’m doing—then we’re never gonna fuck again. I just learn the steps. If you really want to help me graduate, teach me how to work the problems and let me do it my way.”
“OK,” he says in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “Fair enough. Get out a piece of paper.”
I look at the folder he’s got set up on the table, open it, and take out a piece of graph paper. He pushes a mechanical pencil over to me and I take it and then look up at him expectantly.
“Every section in every chapter has a purpose, and your homework is to read the chapter, find the purpose of each section, and write it down in one sentence on that piece of paper. That’s your cheat sheet.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Life isn’t open-book, Shannon. You just think it is because you can look up anything you want on the internet. Answers are free these days. But it’s an illusion. You have to work for the answers. And if you’re good at remembering things, then you write down the answers that are meaningful so you can look them up when you need them.”