*NOTE: I might change the reward numbers at some point.*
The day had passed slowly, Kate’s breakfast filling him until lunch. His only disappointment had been the lack of any news about becoming Mrs. Anderson’s aide. She had ignored him. Had screamed and yelled at people and didn’t ask him to stay after class to set up the arrangement.
His bathroom encounter with Kate was more profitable than he had thought. The blowjob was worth $45,000 and finishing in her mouth was only $10,000. Her stroking him with both hands near the end also counted as a hand job, netting him a total of $75,000, which brought his bank account to just over $270,000. He had some spending to do.
Unlocking his phone, Bobby selected Kate on the fuck app. “Shit,” he muttered as the clock struck 3:00 and the bell went off. Having sex with Kate would grant him a quarter of a million dollars, protected sex that was. He furrowed his brow. Shook his head. Bobby must have missed the difference when he had checked Megan’s list.
Unprotected sex with Kate was $400,000 and anal was 1.4 million dollars—with no mention of condoms. Why was there such a gulf between a blowjob and sex? Megan’s numbers weren’t like that, and Kate had even blown him quicker; he had known Megan for years before anything happened. Bobby went back to the list of women and found Mrs. Anderson. Clicking through, his jaw dropped.
A handjob from Mrs. Anderson was $950,000. Fuck, he thought and…
“Well, are you coming, young man?” Ms. Dubois asked.
Bobby’s head shot upward, leaving the rest of Mrs. Anderson’s list unviewed. The classroom was empty, and Dubois stood a few feet away, one hand on her hip and the other raised in an exasperated gesture. His eyes bulged. “Er, sorry, yeah,” he answered and hurriedly put his things in his backpack.
“Have you ever considered leaving your phone at home?” Ms. Dubois asked, smirking. Her bell-shaped hair was swishing, brushing her chin as she shook her head, and she had a red mark on her pale neck.
Probably from massaging it, he thought. “I need it for emergencies,” Bobby said, shrugging. He had never been involved in an emergency, but they always included calling 969 or loved ones. Plus, he had the fuck app to babysit.
Ms. Dubois’ car was a maroon Jonda with tinted windows and covered in teaching flavored bumper stickers. “Jump in and put your seat belt on,” she said and unlocked the doors.
Unslinging his backpack, Bobby ducked into the front, putting his bag by his feet. The interior smelled like pine scented air fresheners, and she had a plushy ruler hanging from the rear-view mirror. “I like your accessories,” he said, tapping the yellow and black ruler. It twirled lazily.
She smiled and cut the engine on. “Are you hungry?” Ms. Dubois asked, reaching for the AC knob.
Dubois put the car in reverse and swiveled at the waist, looking out the back window. The arc of her left breast showed, peeking out the corner of her low neckline. “Do you have a taste for anything in particular?” she asked, turning the wheel as she backed up. “I could go for a Chipotleer bowl, myself. I’ve had a hankering for one since I saw a commercial a couple days ago.”
Nodding, Bobby said, “I haven’t tried it yet, but those ads do look good.” He could see the grilled chicken in his mind’s eye as the actor sliced into steaming meat before laying it on top of fluffy rice with green shit in it.
“Chipotleer it is,” she said, navigating the many speed humps cluttering the parking lot. He carefully watched her tits jump and shake through the jostling.
When she turned onto the main road, Bobby took a breath and said, “I wanted to ask you something about… sex, er, and Megan.”
“I’m listening,” Ms. Dubois answered, squinting into the sun and groped in the space underneath the radio. She found her sunglasses and swapped them for her regular glasses, pushing the dark shades up her nose.
“She was, you know, with her mouth,” Bobby said, rubbing his knee.
“Oral sex,” Ms. Dubois said, nodding her head and slowed the car, stopping at a red light.
“Yeah, well, she bit me and…”
Dubois laughed, cutting him off and fussed with an air vent. Held an open palm up to it. “I suggest asking her to open wider, young man, if something hurts you should speak up,” she said seriously.
“No, I mean, she did it on purpose and when I sort of yanked her hair, she moaned a little and started using her tongue,” Bobby said, and Ms. Dubois made a sound to show she was listening. “Megan kind of softened after that and let me jam it down her throat without another…”
“I don’t need every single gory detail, mister,” she said, butting in with a wince. “Is there a question in there somewhere?” Dubois eased off the break as the light turned green.
He chuckled awkwardly, bouncing his leg. “Sorry, does she want me to be rough with her?” he asked. “I feel like she did it so I would make her stop. Megan says, ‘make me’ a lot.”
Ms. Dubois massaged her neck. “It could be as you say but enjoying hair pulling and being treated roughly aren’t necessarily one in the same,” she said. “Megan may have bitten you to get back at you for something, and when you hurt her, she feared it could get worse, so she allowed you to do as you pleased. Or to see how you would react or because she enjoys inflicting pain.” She shrugged. “Or because she thought you would enjoy it.”
Bobby grimaced, staring at a Cryber truck speed past them. “I didn’t hurt her,” he mumbled, offended and annoyed at her answer. Megan had said it was hot right after, and he debated mentioning it to Ms. Dubois. He did.
She slapped her left turn signal on and merged into the lane leading to Chipotleer. “My advice would be to talk to her about it, ask Megan what she likes,” Ms. Dubois said. Visit novelping(.)com for the full chapter.
Bobby snorted loudly. “Yeah, I’ll do that,” he said sarcastically. And get myself cursed with another nickname, he thought. He had been planning to ask how to make Megan feel good and last longer, but he decided to wait until they had eaten.
A metal spatula scraped and clanged from behind the counter. A fat guy flipped meat and chicken with a practiced hand, sprinkled seasoning on everything. Other line goers had their heads turned upward, peering at the menu high above and angled for their viewing ease. Bobby couldn’t see shit. “What are you getting?” Bobby asked from beside Ms. Dubois.
“I always order the steak bowl,” she answered, folding her sunglasses and putting them between her breasts.
Bobby got the same order and thought about trying to pay but decided not to. She would probably just turn him down. They sat in a booth, digging into the food, and Bobby found the rice disgusting, nearly retch inducing, but he kept his mouth shut and forced it down. What the fuck is that nasty green shit, he wondered, turning over a larger sliver that hadn’t been chopped as small as the rest. It had a distinct, non-food flavor.
Collecting his trash, Bobby got up and threw the empty bowl away as Ms. Dubois continued eating. She took tiny bites and dabbed her mouth with a napkin after each one. Maybe it was an ancient technique to fend off puking. Sitting across from her, he said, “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
She took a drink of her iced tea. “Grade homework, relax, have some wine,” Ms. Dubois said. “Watch that show we started, make dinner for my boyfriend and I, and take a nice bath. In that order.” She smiled, picking her fork back up.
*
As Ms. Dubois drove out of the parking lot, Bobby said, “How can I last longer? You saw how quickly things end for me.” He made sure to mention her involvement in extricating his ejaculate. If she was constantly reminded of the fact, she might do it again. If she could find a reason to be ‘thorough’.
She patted his hand, where it rested on the center armrest. “Don’t get yourself down, mister,” Ms. Dubois said. “You’ll become accustomed to the excitement in no time, and you can always take short breaks without thrusting, use that downtime to kiss or grope her breasts if you’re behind her.”
Bobby laughed, her final few words catching him off guard. “Thanks, I’ll try it,” he said, recalling how Megan had just kept bouncing back and forth. He didn’t remember there being a window of opportunity to play with her tits from behind.
She let out a chuckle of her own and pressed the brakes, stopping for a line of traffic, her stuffed ruler swaying and gyrating. “You can also have multiple sessions in a row. Aside from that, try thinking of something else but don’t get caught with a faraway stare.”
The awful rice came to mind, and how he could still smell it. “Noted,” he said.
Ms. Dubois sighed, craning her head left and right, trying to see what was causing the traffic. “Is that all you wanted to ask me?” she asked, offhandedly and opened her window.
“How do I…” He snapped his mouth shut, realizing that he had made a mistake. The time she had demonstrated something, they were alone and in a secluded place, with his mother willingly staying away until Dubois called her. There had been no ‘see me later’ or ‘come over at 4:00’. She had just done it, under the guise of teaching as well as being safely away from prying eyes, and maybe alcohol. “No, that’s it, but I appreciate the guidance,” he said. “If you ever need help or anything; screwing in a lightbulb or something just let me know. I’m pretty handy around the house.”