Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“Um, good morning?” I say as I attempt to just walk past them and out the door.
“Oh, no. Sit down,” Becca says.
I sigh. “Guys, I have class in forty—"
“Sit, Jessica.” Her tone actually shocks me, and I’m sitting on the arm of the couch before I realize it.
The loaded silence is unbearable as the three of them stare at me. It’s obvious what this is about—they bought me a vibrator, and they want to know if their investment paid off.
What they don’t know is that I took it to my anatomy professor’s office, handed it to him, and let him use it on me to give me my third orgasm.
Lourdes speaks first. “You used it.”
My stomach twists. “Um, technically, yes.”
“Technically?”
“She’s glowing,” Dani whispers. “Look at her face! She’s absolutely glowing.”
“No, I’m not glowing,” I protest. “This is just my normal, angelic face.”
“You’re glowing,” she repeats.
“That’s not your normal face,” Becca interjects. “No offense, but your normal face doesn’t look like it’s just had a spa treatment in heaven.”
“What!?” I almost laugh.
“Your normal face looks like a nerdy, organized girl who’s never had an orgasm and goes to bed every night at ten-thirty.” She leans in, eyes probing. “That face did not go to bed at ten-thirty.”
“I went to bed at nine actually,” I counter.
My friends glance at each other. Becca’s eyes narrow as she looks at me. “All alone?”
What is this interrogation? I get that they want to know whether I gave their gift a shot, but I’m starting to feel like I’m in a courtroom on the stand.
“Yup.” I nod. “All by myself.”
“But…you used it,” Dani says as though it’s self-explanatory.
I shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Oh my God,” Lourdes gasps.
“Jessie,” Becca says, hands flat on her knees. “Two days ago, you didn’t even know what a vibrator was—what an orgasm was. We went out and got you one, and you’re not even going to let us know if you tried it?!”
They’re all looking at me like there might be a traitor in their midst. Their expressions are all so serious. And because of that, I realize what I have to say.
“He’s a very good teacher.” I shrug.
Silence. Then the room explodes.
Dani topples sideways and covers her face with the pillow, making sounds like she’s speaking in tongues. Becca’s mouth simply falls open and stays there, and Lourdes takes a stance like a Spartan preparing for battle.
“Teacher?” she repeats. “You–you’re not serious.”
Cracking up inside, I shrug again. “Why not? He explained things very clearly and—”
“Oh my God,” Dani groans. “I don’t believe this.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait,” Becca says, cutting through the chaos. “Was it good? Seriously, Jessie. Was it good?”
Instantly, my mind fills with visions of Professor Holt’s hands, his mouth, his tongue. The way he told me to come for him and how I did. Three times. The way the whole world seemed to come apart and then back together again.
And then I smile. “Yes. It was very good.”
Becca stares at me for a long moment, almost like she doesn’t recognize me. Then she slowly nods, like she’s just witnessed something historic.
“Okay, we are going to go over this now—”
“I can’t,” I say. “I have class.”
“This conversation isn’t over!” Lourdes blurts out.
“Yeah, we’re gonna need details, Jessie,” Dani adds. “Like, how did this happen, what the hell happened?”
“I drew a diagram,” I say. “It’s in my notebook. Sort of like an anatomical sketch I did from memory when I got home.”
I guess I didn’t realize how insane that was until I see the three of them staring at me with identical expressions of amused shock.
“She made a diagram,” Becca whispers.
Yeah, this is getting to be too much, and if I stay much longer, I’ll be late for class. I’m never late.
“I’m gonna go,” I say, standing up. “I’ll, um, talk to you guys later?”
They just nod as I slip out.
I walk across campus, notebook in hand, thinking about Professor Holt and the way he spoke to me. Just replaying his words in my mind is like wrapping myself up in a warm blanket.
But it’s not enough. I want more, but I know I shouldn’t. I want those precise, skilled hands on me again. I want his voice telling me what to do. I want to learn more and show him just how much of a good girl I can be.
I’m smiling to myself as I enter the science building and find my seat in the front row. There he is. But he doesn’t look at me as he starts his lecture. Forty-five minutes go by, and he doesn’t look at me once. Even when I raise my hand to ask a question, he just looks past me at someone behind me.
He’s pretending I don’t exist, and it’s working.
As class is ending, I scribble in my notebook: Professor Holt did not look at me once today. My heart hurts.