Make Me Bad(Private Lessons)

Chapter Seven




Luc





I head back to my flat in the city, feeling strangely excited, though deep down apprehension fills my gut. After Madison and I had engaged in a hot make out session up against the side of the restaurant, we went back inside and acted like nothing had happened.

I know I need to stay away from Madison, especially considering who her parents are. But, in my sick and twisted brain, Madison’s parents are just another obstacle in the way of my sexual conquest. Although, I've technically already conquered Madison, they have added a little danger to her appeal.

I'm a sick f*ck.

No surprise there.

Speaking of sick, I need to remember to take my meds in the morning forgetting to take them earlier today, only contributed to the dark cloud that's been hanging over me for most of the day.

I actually wasn’t planning on going to the restaurant, and I should've held to that. While I do enjoy the company of students and I don’t really know anyone else in Paris, I also enjoy my time alone, wandering the city and popping into galleries and museums. Of course, I have my classes to teach, but my workload is light and it allows lots of time to explore the city.

And lots of time to explore Madison.

After sitting and brooding in my flat all day, I'd decided on a whim to go out to dinner with the girls. I was sick of being alone with my thoughts, dwelling one the one-line email from Vera I received this morning telling me that her Uncle Leon had passed away and she was grateful I saw him.

I don’t know why her email disturbed me so much but it did. Perhaps it's the fact that Vera contacted me at all. Did she absolutely need to write that email? Did I need to know exactly when her Uncle Leon died? I knew he was dying –was it necessary for me to know exactly when?

I had thought the email all day, stewing in my thoughts and thinking of Leon. Was I supposed to respond to the cold bitch and tell her I'm sorry for her loss? I'm sorry that a kind and decent man has left this world, but am I actually sorry for the grief that Vera's supposedly feeling? F*ck off.

Just before going to meet Madison and her friends for dinner, I sent Vera a quick response – I’m sorry to hear that he’s no longer with us.

I wasn’t a total prick for ignoring her email, but I also wasn’t telling her that I was sorry for her loss. F*ck her. And I made no mention of wanting to know when the services were. The last thing I need is to attend a depressing service sitting next to Vera. Screw that.

I let myself into my flat and think about Madison’s cell phone number, now saved in my phone under her full name, Madison. Madison sounded much more grown up. Having sex with Madison seems less taboo than having sex with Maddie. Maddie sounds like a little girl who lives on a quaint little street and rides her bike and up down the sidewalk—no thanks.

I'll see Madison again in a few days for our next lesson...unless I decide to call or text her before then. The entire weekend looms before me, and I can’t help but let my imagination run wild as I think of Madison's curvy young body lying naked between my sheets. That would certainly brighten up my weekend and better my mood.

I flip on the light and look around my sparse apartment. It’s nothing fancy, and it was quite affordable with the travel stipend I received. I toss my jacket over the back of a kitchen chair and pace back and forth. I’m too keyed up to go to bed now. I think about having a glass of wine, but I drank plenty at the restaurant. I walk over to one of my living room windows, where if I crane my neck just so, I can see the Eiffel Tower. The tower shimmers with its golden light show, it must be midnight, and I briefly debate going back out to the street and walking to the tower.

I nix the idea, and instead pull out my guitar. Working on a new song does the trick, and soon I feel calm and relaxed and ready to fall asleep.

* * *

Saturday rolls around and I take my time waking up. I lay lazily in bed, scrolling through my phone and appreciating the luxury of having nothing to do today. I finally rise; take a shower and head out to the streets to find some breakfast. My kitchen is still bare and I should probably buy groceries instead of eating out for every meal.

Instead, I slip into a patisserie and order a black coffee and baguette. I linger over my coffee, not caring that I’m wasting time. I find a small grocery on the way home and pick up a few items to keep in the kitchen.

I try not to dwell on Madison, but once I’m back in my apartment, I make an impulsive decision to call her.

“Hello?”

Just the sound of her voice gives me a thrill. I know I should hang up now before it's too late.

“It’s Luc.” I finally manage.

“Yes, I know.” I hear a door close and I wonder if she’s gone somewhere private to speak to me.

“How are you?” I ask.

“Umm, fine. You?”

“I want to see you. Do you have plans?”

“Now? You want to see me now?”

“Now. Later. Whenever.” No need to beat around the bush.

She hesitates. “I’m supposed to go out with Cleo and Philippe today.” she explains, “It would be weird if I broke plans all the sudden.” She pauses again, and I can almost picture her biting her lip as she thinks. “What if I came over later?”

“That’s fine. You have my cell number.”

“Okay. I’ll text you. It'll probably be around six or so.”


“That works.” I'll take what I can get and the thought of being with Madison again is almost more than I can handle.

I hang up with her and find myself pacing again. I need to find some new hobbies while I'm in Paris or I’m going to lose my mind. I can’t spend all my energy focusing on a ridiculous romance with one of my students. And I can only compose music for so much time.

I leave my apartment, and head back out into the city, looking for something, anything, to do. I find my way to Montmartre and make my way up the hill to the Sacre Coeur. I don’t actually want to walk through the church, but there’s an amazing view from the top of the steps, and I like watching all the people and the artisans trying to hock their crappy paintings.

Today amidst the artists, there is also an awful musician, playing bad covers of the Beatles. Not surprisingly, people seem to love the music, and I sit on a ledge to watch the comical reactions of passersby. Maybe this can be my new hobby – watching the tourists in Paris.

I guess technically I’m a tourist too, though I pretend not to be. My mother was French, and though I was born in the States, we spent much of my childhood in France and I grew up learning to speak both English and French. My father was a deadbeat and I’ll never understand why my mother moved to the states for him, or why she stayed with him for so long. I think she did it to give me a better life, but I believe I would have been perfectly happy if we'd just stayed in France.

My father finally saved us both a lot of heartache and left when I was seven years old, but by then, my mother didn’t want to uproot me and take me back to France and we stayed in San Diego, living among a small community of artists. My mother worked various odd jobs to support us and afford my music lessons.

My attention shifts from to the mediocre guitar player and I look around at all the people wondering if any of them could be my family.

Doubtful.

My family wouldn’t be wasting their time with tourist attractions.

I know I probably have a lot of family left in France but I don’t remember who any of them are.

Becoming annoyed by the musicians awful chord strumming, I stand up and stretch my stiff legs. I've been sitting longer than I realized. I make my way back down the steps and wind my way along the steep, cobblestone streets, enjoying the history. I pass the famous windmill of the Moulin Rouge, as well as a number of sex shops. There are also plenty of gift shops, filled with gaudy knick-knacks and bad chocolates.

It’s beginning to get chilly, and I’ve had enough excitement for one day. I hurry back home, my mind focused on Madison’s visit. I shouldn’t be as excited as I am, but I keep picturing having her all to myself for hours at a time, and the thought is intoxicating.

I get home and jump in the shower, and when I get out, I see that Madison has sent a text.

Can be there a little after six. What is your address?

It’s just after five now, so I text her my address and straighten up my apartment. I don’t really intend on us spending a lot of time eating, but I feel better knowing that I have groceries in the house.

Sure enough, there’s a knock at the door just after six. I take my time answering the door, and when I pull it open, Madison is standing there breathless, as if she ran all the way up the steps.

“Hi.” I say huskily, holding the door open for her.

“Hi.” she says shyly, tentatively stepping into my apartment.

“It’s not much.” I find myself saying, unsure as to why I’m explaining my rented apartment to her. I guess now that I know Madison’s background, I feel like I’m at a little bit of a disadvantage. She may be worldlier than I had expected, though I do remember her saying her parents had raised her to be pretty down-to-Earth.

“No, it’s great.” She steps into my living room, clutching at her black purse.

“Want to put that down?” I motion to the bag.

“Oh, right. Sure.” She pulls the bag off, and unbuttons her long black coat. She slides the coat off and drapes it over my couch, resting her purse on top.

I’m standing a few feet behind her, staring at her. She’s dressed in dark-wash skinny jeans, with thigh-high riding boots. The boots would be too much if they were black, but they’re brown, and it’s incredibly sexy and understated. She’s wearing a loose sheer white top, and I can make out a lace-trimmed camisole beneath it.

I’m so screwed.

“I’m surprised you came.” I can’t help but say.

“I’m surprised I came too. But I told you last night. I don’t want to stay away from you.”

Yes, she did tell me that last night.

“Don’t you think that you’re a little young to be speaking so boldly?” I ask softly, moving carefully towards her.

“I’m not that young at all.”

“You are to me.”

She shrugs. “Not my problem.”

Oh, she’s toying with me now.

“I think you’re messing with me.”

She raises her eyebrows. “And what if I am?”

“Haven’t you been taught to respect your elders?” I am mere inches from her now, and my hand slides to her arm.

“I don’t think you’d like me as much if I were being respectful.” she teases.

And then, to my complete shock, she drops to her knees in the middle of my living room floor, and begins to unbutton my pants.

“What are you doing?” I gasp.

“Something I’ve been wanting to do for a while now.” she murmurs, looking up at me through her lashes.

My cock hardens.

“Still want me to be respectful?” she breathes, freeing my cock and taking it in her hands.

“No.” I choke, “Disrespect me.”

She laughs softly, and then takes me into her mouth. Christ, she feels incredible. She slides her tongue up and down my shaft, gently kneading my balls in her palm, before giving ample attention to the head of my cock.

“F*ck.” I hiss through my teeth, my hand instinctively fisting in her thick hair. I can feel her smile against me as she continues to slide her mouth up and down my shaft.

It feels incredible.

“Take me deeper.” I instruct and she pauses for only a minute. “Push me back deep in your throat.” I explain.

She nods, sliding her silky mouth back up to my tip, before taking me all into her mouth and pushing me back far into her throat.

“Yes!” I groan. She does it again and again, until I know I’m close to exploding.

“Stop. I’m going to come.”

“Come for me.”

I exhale sharply and lose control, bursting in her mouth, jerking and spurting into her throat.

She swallows as I empty myself into her mouth. I can’t help but gasp as she drains me dry and I’m still in shock as she pulls back and wipes at her mouth.

Her eyes are full of uncertainty. “Did you like it?” She’s gone from sexy hellcat, to insecure ingénue in a matter of seconds.

“I can hardly breathe.” I pant. “Isn’t that clear evidence?”

Unsure, she bites her lip and gets off her knees to face me.

I reach down and quickly pull my pants back up. I grab Madison’s hand and drag her to the couch and pull her down with me.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“Because I want to be here. Because I’m – I’m attracted to you.” She looks down at her hands, clearly embarrassed.

“You’re embarrassed to tell me that you’re attracted to me, yet you show up here and suck me off with such zeal I blow my load in a matter of minutes.”

She gasps at my language, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my god.” she moans, “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

I pull her hands from her face, dying to kiss her.

“Which way is it Madison? You’re either ashamed to be here with me, or you enjoy being here and you want to f*ck me.”

She balks again at my blunt language, but I don’t care. I know she’s young, but I’m not going to play games. She either wants to be here to start a sexual relationship with me or she doesn’t. Judging from the mind-blowing blowjob she just gave me, I’m guessing that she wants to be here.

“I want to be here.” she says in a small voice, “I’ve just never done anything like this before.”

“And I believe you. That’s okay. We’re in this together. But there’s no need to come here and feel ashamed. It’s just us here. No walls, no one watching us. We can be who we want to be, do what we want to do. I’m certainly not going to judge you.”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Is that what you want?” I press, “Are you here because you want me physically? Or are you here for something else?”

She flushes red. “Physical.”

“Good. That’s what I want to.” I stand up, taking her hand, and lead her back to my bedroom. “No one can know about us.” I murmur, gently pushing her down on my bed. “I could lose my job. It could wreck my career.” I slowly slide her shirt off, exposing the skimpy camisole that is underneath.

She nods, closing her eyes as I undress her.

“It could ruin you.” I add. “It could wreck your chances at a career, not to mention the trouble this would probably cause your parents.” I slide each of her boots off, carnal desire boiling up inside of me and threatening to spill over before I’ve even undressed her completely. “Do you understand?”


“Yes. I understand...and Luc, you can call me Maddie...” Her voice is just a whisper.

“Good.” I undo her jeans, and pull them off, admiring the lacy white panties she’s wearing. Yes, Madison Evans is a good girl who needs a healthy dose of sexual awakening.

I kick off my pants and slide onto the bed next to her. My hand trails across the silk of her panties.

“Now tell me where you learned to suck cock like that.”

She looks at me wide-eyed. “What do you mean?”

“That was one of the best blow jobs I’ve ever had. And to be perfectly honest, I’ve had a lot.” I can see that I’ve embarrassed her again. Oh well. “So who taught you how to do that?”

“No one taught me.” she stammers, “I haven’t done it that many times. I just kind of let instinct take over. I told you. I've really been wanting to do that.”

“So, you just did that out of instinct?”

“Yes, pretty much.” She moans softly, as my fingers slide along the crease between her thighs.

“Tell me,” I murmur, “how many college boys have you put into that dirty little mouth of yours?”

“Why? It’s not that many.”

“Tell me.”

“Four.”

“Four?”

“Yes, four.” she says louder. “I’ve gone down on four guys.”

I find that hard to believe. Four guys? F*ck, she’s just a baby.

“Did they tell you what to do? How they liked it? What they wanted?”

She squirms on the bed, partly from the conversation, and partly from my touch. I’m now rubbing her * through her underwear.

“Not really. They just said things like ‘faster’ or ‘don’t stop.’ ’’ she pants.

“So, nothing specific? No guidance?” I tease small circles around her *.

“No.” she pants. “It’s not like they were giving me a damn lesson...”

I slide my hand inside her underwear, and she arches her back and moans.

“Is that what you want?” I ask, “A lesson? Because I’d be happy to teach you.”

“Yes.” she moans, “Teach me. I liked how you told me to go deeper. I didn’t realize I should do that.”

“Oh, Madison,” I say darkly, “I’m going to teach you well.”