The game had proceeded normally from there, aside from Kate dancing four more times, nothing of note happened. Everyone had continued drinking as the smell of roasting onions and meat filled the room, causing his stomach to groan and rumble like thunder.
Then the game ended, and Kate flung her arms into the air and announced that they were victorious. Bobby chuckled as Kate danced, making an exaggerated stirring motion, as if she were a witch mixing a vat of potion or whatever. Clearing his throat, Bobby said, “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” He had been holding it forever.
“Go right ahead, lovedove,” Kate said. “Let’s have a quick intermission so everyone can relieve themselves, and I’ll check on the roast and see if I can wake Emma.”
Bobby hurried down the hall and slipped into the bathroom. “Ahh,” he moaned, emptying his bladder into the toilet. Stream finally ending, Bobby flushed and washed his hands, drying them on his pants before opening the door.
The dining room was empty, but he heard voices coming from another area. Megan and Mrs. Anderson were talking. Following the sound, he found them slumped on a couch in the living room, Megan puffing on a vape with one leg tucked under her butt. He plopped down next to her, and she handed him the long, rectangular puffer. Bobby took a drag; it was nicotine.
She swiveled at the waist, facing him. “Did you get lost, dummy?” Megan asked.
He blew the ‘smoke’ in her face, and she snickered, reaching for the vape. Bobby held it out of her reach, raising his arm above his head. “You should be nicer to me in front of Mrs. Anderson,” Bobby said.
Her eyes sparkled, and she climbed into his lap, straddling him. Megan kissed him roughly. “Make me,” she said and extended her arm, grabbing for the vape and pressing her tits into his face. “Give it to me, Bobby.”
“No,” he said, voice muffled by her breasts and brought his arm down, dodging her groping hand.
Megan sunk back onto his lap, a fire in her glossy eyes, and she breathed on his lips from an inch away. “Give it to me, Bobby, or I’ll take it from you,” she promised.
Bobby smirked. “How are you going to do that?”
Her eyebrows lifted high. “Don’t play chicken with me, dummy,” Megan said.
He didn’t know what she meant, but her intentions quickly became clear as she fumbled with his zipper. Bobby could see Mrs. Anderson in his periphery, thumb and forefinger pressed into the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. Megan got his pants fully open, and she paused, her fingers intruding under the waistband of his briefs. “Bok, bok,” Bobby teased, he did not believe for one second that she would pull his dick out.
“Oh, my, god,” Mrs. Anderson cut in, her mouth hanging open. “Megan, let go of him.”
She ignored the woman, who was staring at Megan’s hands. “Last chance, Bobby,” Megan said, licking her lips and breath coming fast. “Give it to me.”
The alcohol was an immense boon to his confidence, and Bobby had never felt so free and uncaring. He leaned forward, grazing her far ear with his lips. “Do it, suck my dick in front of her,” he whispered, quietly as two hares brushing against one another.
She chewed her bottom lip as Bobby fell back into the cushion and held his breath, regretting his decision immediately. The last time he had made a boast in front of her, Megan had mocked him for it, but his odds of surviving this one had to be higher. A handful of seconds passed, and Megan relented, slipping her fingers free of his underwear with an elastic snap.
Bobby took a long puff, glanced at Mrs. Anderson, whose nostrils seemed flared in anger. The lights were dim, and he couldn’t tell. Megan swung her leg off him and leaned into his shoulder, resting her head on him. He gave her the vape and fixed his pants. She had a drag and snickered. “What’s so funny?” he asked, plucking the puffer from her fingers.
She rested her arm on his leg. “I thought of a nickname for you,” Megan said.
Bobby had a puff, sighed out the ‘smoke’. “Another one?” he asked and winced. “Keep that shit to yourself.”
Megan giggled and squirmed, ending up with her head in his lap, looking at him. Her knees were bent, completely filling the space between Bobby and Mrs. Anderson in a laying crouch. “You’ll like it, I promise,” she said, pouting her lips.
He snorted. “I’m sure I won’t.”
Mrs. Anderson coughed and reached an open palm out to Bobby. “May I have my vape back, now?” she asked.
Bobby turned his head, gaping at her. He had figured it belonged to Megan. Bobby stared at her hand, his gaze traveled to the colorful tattoos starting at her wrist and winding up her arm, across her shoulder and disappearing into her shirt. When he reached her eyes, Bobby said, “But… I used it.”
“I’ll disinfect it,” Mrs. Anderson said, opening and closing her hand.
Megan burst into a fit of laughter, shuddering and shifting in his lap, her cheek grinding his soft dick. Snatching the vape from him, Megan took a drag before Bobby had a chance to hand it over. She gave it back, and Bobby placed it in Mrs. Anderson’s waiting palm. “Thanks for sharing,” Bobby said and smiled weakly. “I never took you for a smoker, a yakuza member maybe, or a cage fighter…”
He was about to say more, but Megan’s laughter stopped him in his tracks. Mrs. Anderson wasn’t fazed by his rambling or Megan’s outburst, and she brought the nib to her mouth. Her tongue poked out, meeting the black tip before disappearing behind her lips. It was the sexiest vape pull he had ever seen, and she hadn’t wiped it off; his fucking teacher. His heart skipped a beat.
Mrs. Anderson exhaled through her nose. “What else do you take me for, I wonder,” she said and took another puff.
“A pitbull, a dragon, a beartrap,” he said, and Mrs. Anderson chuckled.
Mrs. Anderson passed the vape back to him. “I’m not that bad,” she said. “I let you drink and smoke and whatever that was.” She gestured at Megan.
“That’s true,” Bobby muttered, used the vape. He wondered if his gift had done anything at all. “Do you remember like the fifth day of school, when you got in my face about being late?”
“I do,” Mrs. Anderson replied and crossed her arms. “Are you trying to tell me that was a real story?”
Bobby shrugged. “No, I wanted say that I wasn’t lying about the other thing, the… spit,” he said and rubbed his neck. “I feel like you started hating me after that, for mentioning it, for lying about it. It was fucking gross, no offense, but some even got in my eye.” He chuckled nervously. “Your breath was minty, though.” Bobby left out how that day had traumatized him, the flying spit was secondary to the rage and disgust on her face.
*
Bobby gulped his wine as Mrs. Anderson chose their tiles. Brain sharing was the theme of the day it would seem, and no one protested when Kate suggested they play that way. Bobby’s teammate wanted to share, Kate’s teammate didn’t care, and Kate played all the bingos. He preferred not having to go solo.
After fussing with their rack, Mrs. Anderson leaned back in her chair, drawing ‘smoke’ into her lungs. “What words do you see?” she asked, not bothering to keep her voice down.
He squinted at the tiles: ‘clienta’. Mrs. Anderson had made her choice, clearly, but her tone had a distinct teacher quality to it. Bobby wasn’t sure if the whole thing was an actual word and having seen some of the things Kate played, his confidence in his knowledge of his own language had taken a nosedive. “Client, ten, cent, tac, at,” he railed off. “Clienta?”
Mrs. Anderson drank, handed him the vape. “Define it,” she said and took a whiff of her wine.
The damn thing could mean anything. He knew it wasn’t the same as clientele but other than that, he had no clue. Cupping a hand over his mouth and leaning closer to her, Bobby said, “We’re fucked.”
Her eyes flicked to his without moving her head. They were a cold shade of blue, and Bobby’s gaze fell to her plump, bottom lip. “That goes without saying,” Mrs. Anderson agreed as Megan and Kate had a laugh between themselves. “Nevertheless, I want you to think about it. Is it a word?”
Wincing, Bobby gave her some space since she had continued her non whisper. He didn’t want to play the student outside of her classroom; he got enough of that during the day. Sipping some wine, he ignored her and waited for Kate and Megan to play their word.
It was a bingo, and Megan joined her mother in dancing, clashing their generous hips together happily. Kate had been right, Megan did seem to be enjoying herself. When they sat down and tallied the score, Mrs. Anderson said, “What have you come up with?”
“Please, can you not quiz me here?” he asked. “Can we just play the game? Or switch to our own racks?”
She scowled but it disappeared a moment later. “Sure, I don’t believe ‘clienta’ is valid,” Mrs. Anderson said and switched around the tiles before placing the word ‘alien’.
Bobby chuckled. “Damn, I didn’t even know that was in there,” he said, taking a puff.
Mrs. Anderson handed him the bag before jotting down their points. “As you get used to playing, you see more and more, even if you don’t know as much as Kate over there,” she said.
Sticking his hand in the bag, Bobby counted out five tiles and placed them on the stand. “How often do you get together and have Scrubble nights?” he asked.
Mrs. Anderson tipped the last of the 97’ in her wineglass. “Rarely, nowadays,” she said. “I spend a large portion of my free time grading papers and creating lesson plans.”
And getting tattoos, he thought. “What about during summer break?”
Megan stood and hurried out of the room, rocking her hips side to side as she strode away. “If I’m not teaching summer school, then I’m pit fighting or wresting alligators or practicing my threats in the mirror,” she said, a crooked grin exposing her gold tooth.
Bobby laughed. “What about your tattoos?” he asked. “They’re pretty.” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, and he coughed.
Mrs. Anderson chuckled, took a swig. “Thank you, my brother is an artist and designed most of them,” she said as Megan returned with another bottle, placing it in front of Mrs. Anderson. “I explain what I want and he sketches it out for my tattoo gal.”
He nodded and touched his Adam’s apple, where she had a large, blue and yellow butterfly. “Was the butterfly the most painful?” Bobby asked. Megan smirked at him as she sat down.
Shaking her head, Mrs. Anderson said, “The worst for me are my feet and toes.”
“You have them on your toes?” he asked, taken aback. “What would fit on a toe? A jellybean?”
Mrs. Anderson pursed her lips and grabbed the vape from him. “I don’t have any jellybean tattoos,” she said through narrowed eyes and got closer to their letters.
From across the table, Kate guzzled her wine and removed the hairpin keeping her swirling bun in place. She closed her eyes, shaking her head and combing her hair out with her fingers. “Do you have any of Tooler Swaft or Pheobe?” he asked, watching the small muscle in her forearm shift and bunch as she rearranged letters.
“Why are you so interested all of a sudden?” she questioned, tone harsh and accusatory.
He drained his glass and crossed his legs, leaning back. “Sorry, I was just curious,” Bobby said.
Mrs. Anderson raised one eyebrow at him. “So, you aren’t looking for an excuse to see my feet?” Her voice hadn’t changed but the look on her face was mirthful.
Maybe she always sounds like that, he thought.
“Don’t tease him, Trish, I’m sure he gets enough of that from Megan,” Kate butted in. “Now play something.”
*
After finishing the game and the bottles they had brought into the dining room, the group followed Kate into the kitchen to check on the roast. It smelled divine, and Bobby salivated at the sight of the crusty, golden meat. Juices dripped onto the bed of potatoes and hissed when they contacted the bottom of the pan. This story is hosted at novelping . com.
There were two bottles remaining, and Megan jabbed a cork in one of them, twisting until the spiraling metal disappeared. “Do you want to spend the night?” Megan asked, pulling the cork free with a thunk.
Bobby glanced at Kate. “I don’t mind, sugarplum, as long as you sleep on the pullout,” Kate said.
“I’ll ask my mom,” Bobby said, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “She might not let me.’
Kate patted her thighs, looking around. “Oh, there it is,” she said, walking over to the sink, where her phone sat. “What’s her number, dear? I’ll call and talk to her.”
Bobby told her, and Megan grabbed him by the elbow. “Let’s sit outside,” Megan said and hauled him out the back door. “My mom is going talk your mom’s ear off until she agrees.”
A big awning hung above plush, outdoor furniture in Megan’s backyard. The night air was cool and refreshing against his warm ears and cheeks. Bobby inhaled, and he could smell the alcohol on his own breath. Megan directed him to the edge of the couch, where a longer portion jutted out further than the rest for laying down. He sat, kicking his feet up.
“What am I going to with you, virgin?” Megan said, speech slightly slurred. “Take your shoes off, I don’t want them digging into me.”
He obliged, sitting up and tossing them into the grass. She gave him the bottle and sat next to him, flopping one leg between his and wiggled her bare toes. Bobby took a swig and regretted not going to the bathroom before getting situated. “Why do you keep calling me that?” Bobby asked.
Megan grabbed his wrist, lifting it over her head, and Bobby put the arm around her. “I like it,” she replied. “Unless you want me to switch to your other nickname, the new one.” She giggled and reached across him, taking the bottle.
He sighed. “It has to be better than ‘virgin’,” Bobby said. “What is it?”
She grinned wickedly. “Orca,” Megan said.
Bobby furrowed his brow as she brought the bottle to her lips. “Huh?” he muttered in confusion. “Why that?”
She gulped wine. Once. Twice. “Because, dummy,” Megan said and hiccupped. “Orcas are known for turning sharks upside down and having their way with them.”
Bobby grimaced, his nose wrinkling. “Fuck no,” he groaned.
Megan cackled. The sound beamed directly into his eardrum, and Bobby flinched away. He got saved by another of her hiccups, and she calmed herself shortly after. “You can call me whatever you like,” she offered, voice still dripping with laughter.
He had never heard of a worse, more embarrassing nickname than Orca. It was terrible and had no ring to it, leaving aside the horrifying reason she had picked it. “I could never come up with anything that bad,” he said.
“I’m sorry for offending you, Orca,” Megan said.
The door opened, letting out Kate’s voice and a strip of light for a moment. A gentle, rhythmic slapping sounded as Mrs. Anderson joined them, sitting next to Megan on the sofa and crossing her legs. Her feet were bare and colorful. “Trade?” Mrs. Anderson asked, holding the vape out to Bobby.
Slipping the bottle free of Megan’s grasp, he swapped it for the puffer. “Thanks,” Bobby said, craving it.
Mrs. Anderson gave him a soft smile. “I heard her laughing and thought I’d come save you,” she said and drank deeply.
Saved by the devil, he thought and felt a pang of guilt. She wasn’t so bad. “Have you ever considered a student aide?” Bobby asked, puffing vigorously. “I’ve seen them grading papers before; it could make your life a bit easier.”
Mrs. Anderson burped and blew out a breath. “Are you offering to become my aide?”
Megan laughed, and Bobby said, “No, I was…”
“Just curious?” Mrs. Anderson cut him off and recrossed her legs, displaying the bottom of her foot. She rolled her ankle in a slow motion, her foot tracing lazy circles in the air. Splayed her toes. Wriggled them.
Bobby took in a breath. He had never found feet particularly appealing but fuck if that didn’t turn him on. Tearing his gaze away, Bobby met her eye, and Mrs. Anderson’s brow lifted a fraction. “Yes,” he said. “I mean, if you’re offering, I’ll do it.” He was unsure what he meant by ‘it’, but he knew he wanted some.
She massaged her butterfly, pinched the skin where its wings met. “I’ll consider it,” Mrs. Anderson said, flexing her toes again. It felt like they were waving at him, teasing. “Which elective can you live without?”
“French,” he replied and drew in a lung full of nicotine. “First period.”
Mrs. Anderson cradled the bottle and took a sip, the liquid sloshed, splashing against the glass walls. “Are you willing to work hard and come in early if I need you?” she asked.
“You can trust me to be there and do that,” he said absentmindedly, watching the soft underside of her foot move left and right.
“Ugh, you’re such a suck up,” Megan said and sniped the vape.
Mrs. Anderson handed Bobby the bottle. “We’ll see,” she said. “Are you willing to tell me if students are misbehaving or cheating?”
He had never considered himself a snitch, but he didn’t feel any loyalty to anyone but Alessio. If Alessio cheated, Bobby would keep his mouth shut about it; help even. “Yeah, fuck the misbehavers,” Bobby said, taking in a mouthful of wine.
“Indeed,” Mrs. Anderson said and the look Megan had given him before entering her sister’s bedroom flashed through his mind.