Torquere Press Sips and Shots Page 21

  “In my mind, yes,” I said.

  I had their attention. The entire group waited for me to go on. After a long breath, I explained. “I could never tell anyone about this before. But I’ll tell you, because I know you’ll understand. I have psychic episodes. I see things that have happened, or are about to happen. I saw this guy standing over Gus. I wasn’t there when it happened, but I’m the one who found him lying there. When I touched him, I saw Mickey’s face.”

  They were quiet a moment, and then Robin stepped close to me, held out her hand, and tremulously met my eyes. “What do you see for me?” she asked, desperation in her voice.

  She was begging for hope for the future. I took her hand. I saw nothing, but I wanted to reassure her. “I see you overcoming your shyness, getting moved into a nice apartment, and living a normal life,” I said. “In fact, I see that for all of you.”

  They surrounded me, and frantic hands were on me from every direction. A flash of past sexual abuse entered my mind, and surprisingly, it was from Jolene. I understood her resentment. I saw their pain, their futility, their surrender to the inevitable. I stood there, letting them touch me, trying to coax them into normalcy, but I knew it was next to impossible for them.

  Allison’s touch gave me a new flash: that Gus was still in her future. He was in all their futures. My jaw dropped in astonishment at the revelation. He would survive and return to take care of his flock.

  Finally, it was Charley who spoke. “Eve, are they going to be okay?”

  My bleeding heart was maxed out. “Yes,” I said. “They’re going to be fine. All of them.”

  “What about Mickey?” Allison asked.

  I drew in a deep breath for courage. “I’m going to tell the cops what I know.”

  “We’ll all go,” Jolene said, and they took a simultaneous step toward the building.

  It warmed my heart that the whole group was prepared to back me up. With Charley beside me and the residents directly behind us, I walked to the office door.

  * * *

  The police found Mickey’s hiding place and dragged him from the woods in handcuffs. Charley and I made a trip to the hospital in Bowling Green to see Gus. He opened his eyes as we entered his room, and a warm smile greeted us. His head was bandaged, and his eyes were swollen and black. “Good to see you girls,” he said.

  I smiled back, even though he was staring straight at my tits. “Yeah, Gus,” I said. “Good to see you, too.”

  “Doc says I’ll live,” he went on. “I’ll have to take it easy a couple days, but then I can go on back to my normal stuff. I reckon I’ve got a hard head.” He beckoned at me, his eyes on the door, then murmured quietly, “Think you could sneak me in some cigarettes?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so, Gus. Sorry.”

  He sighed in disappointment. “I hear they got Mickey.”

  “Yeah,” Charley said. “They got him.”

  “He needs a little time behind bars. Maybe it’ll teach him something.”

  “I doubt it,” I said, stepping closer to touch the old man’s arm. I hoped to see a rosy future, but what I got was his grim past. He had been homeless himself until he had lucked into a windfall. He had used that money to buy the motel, and after a time, had begun taking in strays. Although I couldn’t see it in my mind, I had a feeling that he would continue his charity-type work for years to come. That was a good thing.

  I bent to place a kiss on his stubbly cheek. “You should quit smoking,” I advised. “It’s bad for you. We have to get back to Alabama, now. We’ll stop in again sometime and see you, though.”

  “You promise?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I promise.”

  Hot for Teacher

  Jodi Payne

  We weren’t even halfway into the semester yet and already I was looking forward to my fiction writing class more than I probably should have been.

  Way more.

  Sure, it was a great class. It wasn’t a requirement for non-majors and so most students actually wanted to be there. It wasn’t a gigantic class, either, as some English classes tended to be at the university level. It was maybe thirty students, which was very manageable.

  The professor was articulate and talented and, as a writer herself, she practiced what she preached.

  But, frankly, the subject matter could have been chemistry or history or the civil rights of the kosher dill pickle for all I cared. The professor was hot. Too hot for me to be working in such close proximity with her for such a long time, so many times a week. I was starting to worry I wouldn’t be able to hide it from the students much longer.

  * * *

  Her name was Lisa Kushner and I was her Teacher’s Assistant. The first time we met was in her office a week before classes began. She handed me the syllabus and a cup of hot tea, and we talked about her teaching philosophy and the ways in which I could be of use to her. I managed to hear most of what she said while I was fantasizing about the many other ways in which I knew I could be of use.

  “You’re a grad student?”

  “Yes, I’m thinking of going into teaching myself.”

  “It’s not a romantic profession,” Professor Kushner told me. “But I’ve never regretted it.”

  “No regrets. That’s the way to live.”

  “It certainly is, Alice.”

  That was when I realized she’d caught me staring at her cleavage. I remember going right home that afternoon and calling up Rickie.

  “Rickie, baby, I’m so fucked.”

  “Hey, girl!” Rickie answered in her typical cheerful fashion. I’d known Rickie a long time. She had a bad day once in a while, but a bad day for Rickie was usually remedied by one of two things. Chocolate, or sex. And she never seemed to have any trouble finding a Milky Way or a mr.Goodbar.

  “Rickie, the professor...”

  “Oh, girlfriend, I can hear it in your voice,” Rickie said, sounding sympathetic. “You need some TLC.”

  “I so do.”

  Half an hour later Rickie was sitting on the end of my bed, painting my toenails a scary hooker red.

  “I don’t know about that color,” I said uncertainly, but Rickie waved her hand at me.

  “Red is classic. Red makes a woman feel hot.”

  I snorted at Rickie. “Like you know anything about dating women.”

  Rickie gave me a haughty look. “I aspire to be one, darling, I’ve done extensive research.”

  Well I couldn’t argue with her. She was the one saving money for her transition after all, it was entirely possible she did know more about women than I did. The only research I had done was a careful and in depth examination of Professor Kushner’s ass. Mmm. And her--

  “So does she have great boobs?”

  “Funny you should ask, Rickie, I was just thinking about them.”

  “Round, perky?”

  “Firm, just a little too big.”

  “My God, Alice, you’re such a chauvinist.”

  “This should come as no surprise to you.” Any more than it ought to surprise me that Rickie asked about them. She had a book of boobs that she put together as part of her transition research that contained the cleavage of close to a hundred women, ranging from movie star tits to those of women she knew, including mine.

  Which were too small for my own liking.

  “Name?”

  “Lisa.”

  “Age?”

  “What? Are you writing a book?”

  “I can’t advise you accurately without all the details.” Rickie set my foot down and picked up the other one.

  “Your advice is always the same, Rickie.” I raised my hand and tapped her on the shoulder. “If she’s hot and single,” I said, imitating Rickie’s sweet, light voice, “go for it, honey.”

  “Honey, if you don’t trust my advice, why do you ask?”

  I sighed. “Okay, okay. So she’s, I don’t know, maybe thirty-five? Forty tops.”

  “Nice. In her prime.” Rickie nodded
her approval.

  “Will you stop? I have to work with her!”

  “Oh, Alice, sweetheart. You’ve got it bad, don’t you? You’re really fighting this.”

  “I do not have it bad. She’s hot, is all.”

  “Is she single?”

  “As far as I know... no ring or anything.”

  “Then go for it, honey!” Rickie beamed at me.

  “See? You’re no help.”

  “Oh, hush now. Flash those baby blues at her, sweetheart, and she’ll be all yours.”

  “Rickie, why do you assume the whole world is gay?”

  “Because if they’re not, they ought to be.”

  I laughed. “Someone has to breed up more men for you to chase after, you know.”

  “That’s what test tubes are for.”

  Rickie had an irresistible way about her. No matter what came out of her mouth, you simply had to agree.

  * * *

  The second time I saw Lisa -- Professor Kushner -- was at the very first class. I handed out the syllabi as she introduced me as her ‘lovely assistant’. I sat kind of off in a corner of the room, waiting for her to break the class up into groups or to ask me to do something, neither of which took place. Instead, she lectured for the full hour and twenty minutes and then assigned a writing project and sent the students on their way.

  I packed up my bag and hiked it up on my shoulder. “See you Thursday,” I said as I headed for the door.

  “Alice, could you wait a minute?”

  “Sure!” I said, far too cheerfully. I was thinking, ‘would you like me over the desk?’

  She didn’t. Instead, she pulled out her cell phone and asked me for my number. “And here’s mine,” she said, rattling numbers off to me to put into my phone as well. “I want to be able to get in touch with you over the weekend.”

  “Sure, of course.”

  “Or if I can’t make it in for some reason.”

  “Right. No problem.”

  “Do you like Italian?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I do.”

  “Good,” she said. “See you Thursday.” Professor Kushner left the room, leaving me to stand there and watch her ass again. Woe is me.

  That night I couldn’t take it. I finished my studying, I watched an hour of Jay Leno, and then I turned out the light, but despite the late hour I couldn’t get to sleep. I’d noticed that afternoon that Professor Kushner had brown eyes, a deep, rich, bottomless color. I dug my little pocket rocket out of my bedside table and let my fantasies win, just for the short time it took for me to come. The phallus vibrated against my body, its humming traveled through my hips and up my spine. I held it tight in my fist and drew it hard and fast across my clit as if I were jerking off.

  “Fuck, yes,” I growled into the darkness. “Come on!”

  The friction was driving me nuts, drawing heat into my cunt and making my legs tense and my knees draw up until it finally drove me mercifully past the point of no return. I know I cried out, I always do, but this time there was a name I shouldn’t be uttering in that manner on my lips, and brown eyes taunted me, laughed at me, flashed their inherent heat at me until I could breathe again.

  They faded, along with consciousness.

  * * *

  Thursday came and went. Professor Kushner wore a conservative skirt, but the heels on her brown suede boots shouted “fuck me, Alice,” and it was all I could do to keep from rubbing my thighs together while she lectured. I practically ran from the classroom that afternoon, not waiting to discuss the lesson plan for the following week.

  As it turned out, that defensive move worked in my favor -- if you consider what happened next favorable. Some would call it foolish, and they would probably be right.

  My cell phone rang at ten Saturday morning. I answered it without looking at the caller ID as I was sure it was Rickie calling about our usual Saturday morning brunch and gossip session.

  “You sound sleepy, I hope I didn’t wake you,” came a smooth voice over the line.

  “Hm? No, no, I was... I’m awake,” I lied.

  “This is Lisa.”

  Lisa. Lisa... it took me far longer than it would take an actually awake person to find the meaning behind the name. “Good morning, Professor Kushner.”

  “Hmm. I’d rather you use my name,” she said in a low tone.

  “Okay. Good morning, Lisa,” I purred at her. It was right about then that I woke up enough to understand what was going on. “I... uh...” I started stammering like an idiot. “Can I help you? Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine, Alice. I was hoping you might be able to meet with me to discuss the lesson plan for next week.”

  “Oh! Oh. Yes. Yes, of course I can do that.” Lesson plans, I reminded myself hastily. Meet up, discuss business, come home and cry to Rickie. Got it? No funny stuff.

  “Great. How about seven o’clock at my place? I know you like Italian.”

  I swallowed so hard she must have heard it on the other end of the line.

  “Alice?”

  “Uh... yes. Yes, okay. Seven o’clock.”

  “Sixteen Brewster. White house with black shutters.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Wonderful. I’m looking forward to it.”

  She hung up the phone. It was plainly obvious to me that neither of us was interested in discussing lesson plans tonight. It took me five tries to dial Rickie because my hands were shaking so hard.

  “Date.”

  “What?” Rickie had loud music going in the background and she sounded out of breath.

  “Date, Rickie.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. No. My hands are shaking.”

  “Oh, my God.” The music shut off abruptly. “I was just working out, sweetie. Let me shower and I’ll be right over. Don’t do anything drastic,” she told me and then hung up.

  Her admonishment had more meaning behind it than you might think. The last time I had a date that made my hands shake I decided in my hormone-induced hysteria that I hated my hair so much I should cut it all off. Myself.

  Needless to say, that had been a terrible, sobering disaster.

  I opened my closet door and stood there staring into it. My heart was pounding in my chest. I had nothing to wear. Professor Kushner -- Lisa -- was always so well put together and I looked like... well, I looked like a struggling grad student. Which is exactly what I was.

  Rickie saved me just as I’d decided to take everything out of the closet in desperation.

  “Whoa! Whoa, girlfriend! Step away from the closet.”

  I threw my hands in the air like I was being arrested.

  “Now.”

  I stepped backward.

  “One more.”

  I stepped back again and my knees hit the bed. They buckled and I sat heavily.

  “I don’t want to know what you were thinking,” Rickie said, picking up the pile of clothing that was still on hangers on the floor and hanging them back up. “I told you not to do anything drastic.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “I suppose I should be glad that you didn’t get out the scissors again.”

  “Rickie, I want her.”

  “I know, baby. Tell me what happened.”

  “She called me and woke me up. I thought it was you.”

  “Oops. Did you call her ‘baby’ or ‘darling’?”

  I sighed. “No, thank God.”

  “Good. Now, what did she say?” Rickie was pawing at my clothing, comparing fabrics and colors and who knew what else. She seemed to be channeling some ethereal offspring of Carson Kressley and Magnum P.I.

  “She said... she said she wanted me to call her Lisa, and invited me to her house tonight at seven to discuss lesson plans over Italian food.”

  “Wow.”

  I nodded.

  “Well, sister Alice,” Rickie said, turning away from my closet with several ou
tfits in her hands. “We have our work cut out for us.”

  * * *

  Rickie did my hair, my make up and dressed me. It was nothing dressy or fancy, but I was so nervous that if it hadn’t been for her, at seven o’clock I’d have probably been sitting on my bathroom floor in tears. As it was, I was still two blocks away.

  “I’m late,” I said miserably into the phone.

  “Alice, sweetheart, this is sex. The anticipation makes everything sweeter. You’re hot, I promise. Get off the phone.”

  Rickie always knew just what to say. “Thanks, baby.”

  “I love you. Now go get laid before you explode.”

  “I love you, too,” I said, smiling as I hung up.

  Lisa’s house was large, and by large I mean enormous. This was no white house with black shutters, it was a fucking Victorian mansion. It was set off from the street by a gate and a long white fence. The lawn was impeccably green and the walkway up to the front door was lined with colorful flowers. The front porch was wide and stately and led to double front doors, one of which was standing open and letting out warm light.

  I knocked, feeling a little small.

  Lisa appeared moments later, smiling as she held open the screen door. “Hello, Alice.”

  I blinked, thinking maybe I was seeing things. The professor who was usually so professionally put together was dressed casually in khaki pants and a soft brown v-neck sweater that complimented her eyes. With her hair down and wavy around her shoulders, I could see that it was actually auburn, lighter and redder than I had thought. She was beautiful. I don’t know how long I might have stared if she hadn’t interrupted my thoughts.

  “Coming in?”

  “Oh. Sorry I’m late.”

  Lisa waved a hand. “Pfft. You’re not late.” I felt her eyes on me as the door swung closed. “You look... stunning. I love that sundress.”

  I blushed. I’d have been embarrassed, but something told me she liked it. “This old thing?” I winked.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Lisa watched me for a moment and then nodded once, smiling. “Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”

  I noticed with smug satisfaction as we moved through the house to the kitchen that there were no lesson plans anywhere in sight.