“Oh God, Lizzie, I want him to touch me again…” I whispered. “Oh please, please, let him touch me again…”
I heard her moan, and it felt so nice against my skin.
“I want to touch him, Lizzie… I want to see him… I want to suck him… I want to know how he tastes…” I rocked harder. “I want him inside me… Lizzie, oh God, I want him to fuck me… I need him to fuck me… he’s all I want… I want Mr Roberts…”
But she wasn’t Mr Roberts.
She was Lizzie.
“Stop…” I said. “Lizzie, stop, this is… just… weird.”
I pushed her away by her shoulders and she pulled a face when I pulled my bra back into place. “You said you’d do what I said! Jeez, Hels.”
“I just… I want Mark…”
“Oh, so he’s Mark now, is he?” She smiled but for a second her eyes didn’t. “I bet you didn’t tell Mark it was weird when he played with your tits, did you?”
I didn’t even have an answer. She was still giggly, but her shoulders were tense.
“You’re no fun tonight, Helen Palmer.” She poked her tongue out.
And then there was a knock. A loud knock. And I leapt from the bed like a rocket, eyes wide as I flung myself against the door. The handle turned down, and the door bounced open just a bit before my weight pushed it shut again.
Another loud knock. “Helen?” Mum’s voice sounded through. “Your dad will take Lizzie home now, you have school tomorrow…”
Lizzie rolled around on the bed, stifling giggles, but I wasn’t sure it was so funny.
“Ok, Mum… We’ll be right down.”
My heart was racing and I felt all screwed up. I did my buttons up quickly, but I stayed in position until I heard Mum heading back downstairs.
Lizzie was still laughing, as though this was the funniest thing in the whole universe.
And I laughed, too.
I laughed because it was just a silly game. Just silly practice for Mr Roberts. That’s all.
She got her bag and hugged me tight and she was back to normal.
“You need to think about going on the pill, Hels.”
“The pill?” I laughed. “He doesn’t even want to see me again.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Oh, but he will. He will do it again.”
I hoped so. How I hoped so.
“Oh, and you should shave,” she grinned. “Your *, I mean. I did it last week, Scottie went mad for it. Roberts will love it, too.”
“He will?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, he will. Definitely.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Trust me, Helen, I know what I’m talking about.” She planted a wet kiss on my cheek, complete with smacking noise. “Catch you tomorrow, bestie.”
I walked her downstairs and waved her off from the front door, and she blew me a kiss as Dad drove her home.
And then I felt weird. And nervous. And alone.
Really alone.
I considered firing up the cam diary, but decided against it.
Alone would just have to do for now.
I stared after the car.
Was she right?
Would he really want to touch me again?
***
Mark
I wasn’t waiting for her. Wasn’t watching the clock as the lessons ticked by, wondering where she was, and if she was ok, and if she was thinking about me. I wasn’t preoccupied with Helen Palmer, because teachers don’t get fixated on their teenage students.
I’d always been a poor liar, especially to myself.
My mind could ramble through any rationalisations it wanted, but the truth of the matter was in my gut.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I expected the repercussions of my actions to come calling at any time. Maybe it would be the head teacher, or maybe a member of the board. Maybe even the police. A word please, Mr Roberts. Outside. We’ve had an allegation. A very serious allegation.
I wouldn’t even attempt to defend myself.
But two days in and it hadn’t come, and why would it?
Helen had shown no desire whatsoever to throw me to the wolves, despite what I deserved. Her eyes had been full of honesty. Honesty and tears.
The memory still pained, and made me feel like the abominable bastard.
She was last in again, her eyes flitting to mine nervously before she joined her classmates. She stared at her notepad, scribbling notes as I spoke about the coursework schedule for the run up to Christmas, and all the while I tried not to stare at her. I wrapped up the talk and the students made their way to their benches, resuming their pastel work, and Helen was gone from me again, her shoulders angled away as her heels tapped on that damned stool leg. I circled the room twice before I dared to venture any closer, and even then I was wary, as though I could no longer trust my own body. I pushed my hands in my pockets as I surveyed her work, just to be sure.
“Excellent blending,” I said. “Great choice of greens.”
She smiled but didn’t look at me. “Thank you, Mr Roberts.”
Her cheeks had the hint of a blush, and it transfixed me. I watched her fingers on the pastels and imagined them in my hair all over again.