I had been in college for only a few months now, and already I was beginning to feel lonely and isolated. I’d never been much of a social butterfly in my life; I’d always kept to myself save for a few close friends. But my family and friends were states away – and sure I could call them and text them constantly, but I longed for a group of friends I could physically see on a regular basis. And maybe I had found a group of people I could get along with. But the question stood whether they were the right group for me to be around – and whether I was really acting myself with them or just being the silent sheep of a follower I tended to be in a pack.

I was 18 at the time, freshly graduated from high school in the top ten percent of my class. I was short for my age with no real hope of growing any taller than my 5 feet even. I weighed 130 pounds, a bit thicker than most girls my height, but I felt comfortable and fit in my own skin. Hell, I was in the best shape of my life. And where my stomach was mostly flat, my ass and thighs had no shortage of lean meat. I had b-cup breasts – something I’d once felt insecure about, but had now accepted as one of my favorite features about myself. Small breasts tended to be perkier, and mine certainly were. My skin was pale as it had always been – and no matter how much sun I got, nothing more than a slight sunburn would make its impression. My hair was naturally curly and was cut just to my shoulders. I was born brunette, but had taken to dying it red at the age of 15 and had kept up with it ever since, so it was always somewhere between the shades of a deep burgundy and a light auburn, depending on how long I let it fade for.

I was an English major, and struggling already to write my very first novel. Though with the loads of work piled on in my very first semester of college, it was hard to focus on the right words for my book. And with all the distractions around me in this whole new world, it was difficult to even find the inspiration or motivation to sit in front of a computer screen for any more time than needed for my school work.
I was wide-eyed and bushy-tailed.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t ever lived life or enjoyed myself before college, but now there seemed to be so many more options. All at once, I was free of high school, free of my parents, in my own place, alone because thank God my scholarship had been hefty enough to cover a private dorm. For once, my life hadn’t revolved around writing short stories, participating in school events, getting homework done, helping my family with household chores, and managing to slip away to the bowling alley with a few friends every other weekend or so.

This new world was terrifying for me, yet it was exhilarating.

… Which is maybe the reason I agreed to participate in the scheme my newfound friends had planned to pull. They were a bit more of trouble makers than I was accustomed to hanging around, so when they first brought the idea of their little prank to me, I was uneasy. I was afraid initially of being caught, and of losing my scholarship and ruining my life for a temporary kick. They assured me, though, that it was all well thought out, and that nothing would tie me to the crime, unless of course I was caught in the act. Which they assured me the chances were very, very low.

There was a mathematics professor that no one in the school was quite fond of. Actually, many called her by the nickname ‘Hitler’ under their breaths in her presence and out of it. Her class was difficult in nature, she would hold students far past the designated time for the end of class. She moved too quickly for most students, and refused time and time again to stop and review certain subjects. Your grade in her class was entirely dependent on one or two tests every semester, so if you couldn’t hang in and understand the content, you were sure to fail the class and lose the credit.

My friends had initially planned on sneaking into her lecture hall after hours and spray painting profanities all over the walls, tables, chairs. I didn’t like the idea, not classy enough to really take a stand – so instead I brought to them a quote from Albert Einstein: “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” I then showed them an image of a fish with a tree growing from its back. They loved it, I loved it. And it was sure to prove our point more than a few “fuck you”s.

Two of my friends gathered the supplies we needed and prepared it all into a duffle bag. One had somehow snatched a ring of keys to get into pretty much anywhere in the school. I wondered how they’d retrieved the keys, but didn’t voice my concerns. Another friend hacked into the school’s surveillance system and was to disable the cameras on campus temporarily so that I would not be detected.

I was the vital role, they all said. All I needed to do was take the keys, approach the room, open the door, sneak in, and paint out our little message all over Miss Hitler’s room.

I was unnerved by the thought of doing something so blatantly against the rules, but I did agree with the cause behind my new mission. So I prepared. I wore black pants and a black hoodie with the hood pulled over my head, just in case anyone were to see me approaching the classroom. I had a pair of gloves in my pocket so that the spray paint had no way of getting all over my hands, a tell-tale sign that I was the culprit. I lay in my bed beneath the covers, fully ready for my motions of protest as my eyes locked on the bedside alarm clock, watching the time as it ticked by.

We had all agreed on 3:00 in the morning. By that time, the maintenance men should have cleared out and all of the drink-hazed students should have meandered back into their dorms and passed out. So at 2:50, I rolled quietly out of my bed, pulled the duffle bag from under it, and stepped out into the hallway. I took careful steps, quiet as a mouse all the way from my dorm to the mathematics building on campus.

Approaching the gate that wrapped around the academics building, I pulled the ring of keys out and staggered with a few of them in the lock until one finally worked. Slowly, I opened the gate, painstaking in my attempt to keep the metal from creaking. I closed it behind me, but did not lock it back up. I figured if I needed a quick escape, it would be best to keep the gate unlocked.

It didn’t take long before I arrived at the right classroom. I hesitated at the door, pulling out the keys but freezing as my hand approached the lock. This was unlike anything I’d ever done before. A small part of my guilty conscience showed through, and a light was almost shined onto the fact I only subconsciously was aware of – I was doing this just to fit in. But I heard something then, a soft bang a few halls down. It could have been anything mechanical, but my mind skipped almost immediately to it being a person. And my body jumped into full gear.

Jumbling around with the keys, I must have tried five or six before finally, the door to the lecture hall opened. I nearly hopped into the room, closing the door behind me. Then I rushed down the empty classroom to the front, dropping the duffle bag to the ground and unzipping it as I pulled the large stencil of the fish with the tree growing out of it and taped it up against the whiteboard.

I sighed, staring at the stencil for a moment before I looked back over my shoulder. Since hearing that one little sound, I’d been a bit jumpy. I needed to get this done quickly, because at any turn I felt like there could be someone watching. So I pulled a can of spray paint and shook it wildly before getting to work at the stencil. A hissing filled the air as blue filled the canvas and my hands shook as I did so, because this was it. There was no reversing this.
Taking a deep breath once the stencil was entirely filled in, I stepped back. I pulled the stencil away and looked at my work. Then realized that the quote still needed to be painted. So I needed to get to work. I took the black spray pain and stepped back toward the whiteboard, neatly as I possibly could, writing out the words of the quote I had shown my friends. But just a few minutes into it, I heard a terrifying, soul-shattering sound. The door behind me closed. Then the sound of a camera shutter.

My hands stopped moving. Hell, my entire bod stopped moving as if paralyzed entirely. My eyes were wide. Wider than they were on a normal basis, and that was saying something.

“Gotcha,” the man’s voice came from behind me, then a laugh hung off of his lips.

My heart dropped. I knew there was no use in continuing what I was doing. I knew I was doomed. I dropped the black can of spray paint and slowly turned about to look at the man who now held my fate in his hands. He was short, but still taller than me- probably about 5’6” and he was a little bulky, but definitely in shape. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and black steel-toe boots. He held a phone up about level with his chest, and it didn’t take a genius to realized that was where the camera shutter had come from. A smile was plastered to his lips as his finger moved to press the capture button on his phone once more.

I grimaced, because he now had a photo of me in the act, as well as a clear photo of my face. I shook my head, hopeless as my voice escaped me, “I-I’m sorry… please, just… can you just let me leave?”

“Nah,” he answered, matter-of-factly. He stepped forward, closer to me, and then held out his phone for me to the see the two pictures he’d snapped of me. My eyes widened even more and I gulped, neck moving visibly. “I think I’ll turn these in to the dean tomorrow. Get you expelled. You might even get charged with destruction of property. Sent to jail or prison,” he tilted his head as he spoke. I watched him as sickness rose up in my stomach. I shouldn’t have ever agreed to join in on this project. I shouldn’t have ever tried to make friends. Silently, I hung my head, a few strands of curly red hair falling into my face.

The man stepped closer again, “But I don’t have to.”

With those words, I suddenly felt as if I could breathe. I looked up all at once, eyes pleading for the latter option, “Wh-What can I do to convince you..? I shouldn’t have done this… God, I know now I shouldn’t have…” I felt tears coming to my eyes, because quite frankly, I felt my life crumbling out from underneath me.

Once again, this stranger stepped closer to me. He raised a hand to touch my cheek and I flinched away from him, but let him touch me. What was I to do? If I ran away, he would surely ruin my life. He wiped away my tears, then smiled at me, “One thing you should know about me: I don’t like the crying. Save the tears.” I sniffled, the nodded my head, doing my best to hold back any more tears that threatened to fall down. After a deep breath, the man spoke up again, “How ‘bout you come with me?”

I bit my lip, but knew that I didn’t have much of a choice. Nodding my head, I looked at him with apologetic eyes, “Sh-Should I… take this..?”

He shrugged, “You were wearing gloves, right? Ain’t like your fingerprints are gonna be there. Might as well just leave it. Just tools of the trade, am I right?” He raised a brow at me, seemingly unamused by me, which I couldn’t blame him for. I was fairly unamused with myself at that point as well.

He stood behind me, poking my back for me to walk and leading me back through the doorway, down a few turns in the hallways. Finally, he led me into a small office and shut the door behind us. There was a cluttered desk with a swivel chair with armrests. He pointed to the chair, instructing me, “Take a seat.” Without another word or argument, I did as told, taking a seat in the swivel chair. My feet didn’t dangled from the chair’s height, a few inches above the linoleum flooring of the office. I swung my legs out and back in, a nervous tick that I’d had ever since I could remember.

The man took off the baseball cap he wore, tossing it onto the surface of his already crowded desk. He leaned against the ledge, running a hand back through the short, dark brown bristles that were his hair. If I wasn’t so anxious in that moment, I may have been able to take in the fact that he was actually quite handsome. His features were hard, and you could tell his age from the experience in his dark eyes, but he’d aged well all at the same time. Couldn’t have been older than his mid-thirties. He had a trimmed up goatee, just a patch of hair at his chin and an even smaller area just below his bottom lip. “You’re going to have to do something for me,” he finally spoke up after moments of torturous silence.

My feet stopped kicking. I looked up at him with a frown persistent on my plump little lips, “What do you mean?”
With that, the older man moved deliberately. He went to a filing cabinet and pulled a plastic bag from one of the metal drawers, then came back to my side. He was quick in his actions, effortlessly pulling two zip-ties from within the plastic bag, then pinning each of my wrists to the armrests of the chair and securing them there. My eyes must have been as immense as two moons set in place on my fact, my heart arush with horror. I wriggled against the zip-ties holding my wrists still, my voice a high-pitched squeak, “What the hell!”

He chuckled, amused by the predicament he was now forcing upon me. He began to unbuckle his jeans and I felt my stomach turn. Oh, God, I was going to be sick… I shook my head, muttering pleas that I knew were going unheard. His pants fell to the ground and I only heard the rustle of the fabric against the linoleum, because I didn’t dare to look. I closed my eyes tight, all the while shaking my head still. It wasn’t long before his hand found my cheek and I nearly cringed away from it. “Open your eyes for me,” he cooed.

For a few seconds, I protested. I kept my eyes tightly shut, afraid and trembling in his grasp. He moved his hand to slap my cheek airily, though and my eyes flashed open. Before me, he was kneeling so that I could see his face just inches from my own. A tear slipped from the corner of my eye and rushed down my cheek, “Please, let me go…”

He shook his head, running a finger to catch my tear in its track and to wipe it away. His baritone voice came, “You’re going to suck my cock. Then we can talk about you going home.”

I swallowed thickly, but however hard I gulped, it felt like there were enormous stones stuck midway through my throat that just could not be moved. I nodded my head, defeated. What other choice did I have? The man before me shifted, pushing himself to a stand until all I could see was his shaft. He was sizeable, about 7 and a half inches with quite the thick girth. His pubic area was neatly shaven. A thick vein ran all the way from the very base of his manhood all the way to the start of its head. I stared at it with fear prevalent in my eyes. He smirked down at me, “I got all night. Take your time.”

Once again, the nerves hit my stomach and acrobats were flying around in there. He wasn’t making this easy on me, was he? A small whimper escaped through my lips as I leaned forward and took this moment with the smallest grain of salt I could manage. Just get through this, I told myself silently, and you will never have to see this man again.

I was no virgin, so I knew what I was doing. I’d lost my virginity a year and a half ago to my on-again-off-again boyfriend back home. I’d given him countless blowjobs, some a bit more risqué than others. But never had I been bound while performing one. And never had I been blackmailed to do so. My mouth became dangerously close to his already hard member. I shyly stuck my tongue out, licking at the head of his cock, then twirling my tongue around the same area a bit. All the while, I looked up at the man with wide, pleading eyes.

Go easy on me, please. Please. I thought silently as I watched him moan at my tongue’s workings.

I then parted my lips, allowing just the first few inches of him to enter my mouth. My tongue lay flat at the bottom of my mouth at first while I started to move my head back and forth on his member, careful not to take in his full length just yet. This man, I was sure, would require a good sucking. He wouldn’t take anything less. And I wasn’t willing to test his limits. So he was getting my very best.

After a minute or so of this teasing, I un-flattened my tongue and began to use it in small back and forth motions along the underside of his dick as I still moved my head back and forth. At first, my pace was slow, then fast, and then slow again. The sounds from the man standing before me showed that I was clearly doing something right. And for now, he kept his hands to himself and simply let me do my thing. I closed my eyes softly, losing myself in the motions of my neck, of my lips, and of my tongue.

I decided to stop teasing the man at last, quickening my pace as well as taking in another inch of his manhood at a time. Slobber fell from my bottom lip, down my chin, and onto my lap. But at that moment, I couldn’t have cared any less. Actually, if I was to be perfectly honest with myself, I was enjoying myself. As I took him in my mouth over and over, I could feel a ginger tingling sensation in my body, and deep inside my pussy I could feel as my juices began to flow.

I was just thankful for the fact that this man could not read my mind and know any of these things.

I took in his whole length suddenly. There was no real warning to the movement, so he seemed taken off guard by it as his tip hit the very back of my throat. He let out something of a mixture between a moan and a growl, and he placed his hand at the back of my head, holding me there. He liked this. Hell, I liked this even though I wouldn’t admit it at the time. I gagged, something I couldn’t really help with him invading me so deeply, and I tried to pull my head back, but he securely held me in place.

Instead, I widened the corners of my mouth and let a whole stream of gooey slobber escape, then flicked my tongue wildly against the underside of his shaft. He finally removed his hand from my hair and I pulled back my head to gasp in sweet, fresh air. More drool fell from my chin onto the black clothing I wore. He moaned, then chuckled, “You’re a messy girl, aren’t you?” Stringing his hand through the seemingly ever-flowing stream of spit from my mouth, he wiped it all over my face roughly, then slapped my hard on my cheek a few times before waving his dick around before my lips once more.

I groaned weakly, but knew my work was to still be finished. And by the way his cock was twitching and pulsating, it wouldn’t be long before I was back in my dorm room sleeping peacefully… Or crying in the shower, I hadn’t quite decided yet. I opened my mouth, leaning in. But he stopped me before I could get to his meat, “Ah. I asked you a question.”

I blinked, trying to regain memory of anything he’d said to me. My mind was in a daze, but I was able recollect it, and I faintly nodded my head in response to him, “I… I am messy…”

“Good girl,” he said, then took hold of my hair and plunged me back into him. As soon as my lips were wrapped around his girth, he let me go, though. I got to work. My tongue worked in its patterns against the thick meat that was filling my mouth, my neck ached as I moved it back and forth eagerly on him. I took in all 7 inches of his shaft, then came back to just the tip, playing lightly with it, then dove back in for the entire stretch.

Over and over, I gagged, coughed, spit, gasped, and repeated the motions. Over and over, he moaned and groaned and growled. Then finally, after at least twenty to thirty minutes of sucking this stranger’s cock, I heard him mutter, “I’m… I’m gonna cum!”

I tried to pull back. I hated the feeling and the taste of a man cumming in my mouth, but it seemed my counterpart had other plans for me as he grasped hard at a handful of my hair and held me still on his cock. I felt the warm liquid fill my mouth. I tasted the bitterness of it, gagged in disgust. I swallowed it back and felt as the stickiness oozed down my throat. I was disgusted with myself, and with him. But I didn’t have a choice. I kept reminding myself of that. He pulled out of me a minute later, pulling his underwear and his jeans back on, buttoning his jeans up. I stayed seated, waiting patiently for him to release me. And surely enough, he cut lose the zip-ties that bound me to that rotten swivel chair. I stood up, standing close to the door, ready to make my escape.

He chuckled as he took a cloth and handed it to me, “Might want to clean up, huh?”

I took the cloth cautiously from him, wiping first the slobber and cum from my face, then the slobber that my clothes were nearly coated in at this point. I handed it back, rolling my eyes, “Keep it. A souvenir.”

There was a grin of complacency on his lips. He took out his cell-phone, the same one he’d used to take those photos of me. Holding it up so I could see, he showed me as he swiped to delete both photos. “Like it never even happened. I didn’t see a thing,” he shrugged his broad shoulders.

I found myself not only relieved, but… thankful for this man. Even though he had just molested me? Raped me? Was that even what this was since I hadn’t fully not liked it? “Thank you… for keeping your word,” I said quietly, reaching behind me and finding the doorknob. I swung the door open behind me and nodded to him, “I… I never even got your name…”

“Just call me Dallas,” he said, tilting his head. And I got the feeling that wasn’t really his name. I got the feeling he was protecting his identity. That he wasn’t stupid enough to tell the woman he’d just molested his real name. I started to back out of the small office that would now hold more memories, terrible and not-so-terrible, but was caught when he added in, “If you ever want to have some more fun—come see me. I have a feeling we’re not done, here.”

I left. My feet carried me across the campus, back into my dorm. I brushed my teeth at least ten times before the taste of his semen had left my mouth. I stared at myself in the mirror for a good hour, going back and forth between hating myself, blaming myself, hating what he’d done to me and loving what he’d done to me, remembering that odd fuzzy feeling it had all given me, and hating myself for even remotely liking any of it.

Either way, one thing was positive: I hated myself.

I then found my bed, and my eyes found the alarm clock. Five in the morning. I sighed, pulling the blankets up over my face to block out the morning light that was already beginning to trickle through the window. I thanked God that I was in my own private room, because I couldn’t imagine how humiliating the walk of shame would have been if there were another filled bed across the room from my own. Though my mind was very awake with racing thoughts of what had just happened, my body was exhausted.

And I fell into a deep sleep without quarrel.

I slept through my alarm. Missed my morning classes. All because my sleep was filled with dreams and fantasies I wouldn’t allow to play with my mind while I was awake. In my dream, I was sleepily doodling on my notebook while my professor droned on and on about—what was she teaching anyways? Suddenly, I felt two hands at my inner thighs, pressing until my legs opened widely. I looked down beneath my desk to see the familiar face of the man I’d seen just last night.

That devilish grin was on his lips, that mischievous look in his eyes.

In my dream, I was wearing a knee-length skirt. Dallas did not ask for permission to lift it. He just did as he pleased. I didn’t stop him, but I could have sworn I felt my cheeks flushing. I looked about the classroom, wondering if anyone noticed him there. He peeled my lace panties back, then pressed his lips against my clit to lay a kiss there. I clenched the pencil in my hand, fighting back any sounds. Everything felt so real, I didn’t even realize I was in a dream at the time.

Dallas was good with his tongue. He first used it to tease against the plush lips of my pussy, then stuck it within my wet slit, slopping up the juices as he waved his tongue back and forth, up and down. I had a death-grip on my pencil- my other hand finding its way to cover my mouth in what I thought was the most casual cover-up. He took his tongue from my hole, bringing it all around my pussy in patters I’d never even thought possible. He toyed with every part of me. My labia, my hole, my hooded clit which had always been just a bit larger than other girls’. His hands clasped to my thighs as he went to town on my like a full-course buffet.

My breathing was quick, shallow. I hung my head back, chest heaving up and down with my staggered breaths. The more he did, the more difficult it was to remain inconspicuous in that crowded classroom. Then, he did something I didn’t expect. He took my entire clit in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, all the while sucking furiously.

I couldn’t help the yelp that escaped my lips. A few kids turned their heads to look at me, then noticed the man beneath my desk eating me out. Some kids laughed, others cheered the two of us on. Dallas didn’t seem to be deterred at all by the fact he’d been noticed. I couldn’t even think straight, what he was doing was sending bolts of electricity through my entire body. I trembled, bucking my hips just slightly toward him, wanting more than he was already doing.

He moved his hands from my legs up to my hips, fingers curling into the curve of my ass and pulling me closer to him. I moaned as he nibbled at my clit, and then continued his sucking. He then pulled back, licked my slit and labia, then back to the clit for a bit more attention. I let out an exasperated sigh, giving into this man’s every whim. My legs began to shake uncontrollably and I felt this odd sensation rising between my legs, then all throughout my body. It was as if every single muscle in my body was tensing up at once, and then all of a sudden, every single one of them relaxed into pure pleasure.

I moaned loudly. My classmates and teacher now all had their eyes on me. Most were cheering, clapping even. The teacher even seemed a small bit intrigued by my venture. I closed my eyes tightly, bucked my hips a few more times against his mouth as my orgasm rolled to an end. Then cooled down into a puddle at my desk.
It was at that moment that I woke up. I blinked groggily, throwing the blankets off of my face and checking the time. It was already past noon. I shifted to sit up in my bed, confused and so filled with lust over the dream I’d just imagined up. I felt it between my legs, I was dripping wet. Never had I experienced anything like that – a dream so close to reality. I had wanted so badly for it to be real. And that was why I knew I would have to seek Dallas out one of these days.

He was right: we weren’t finished.

Once I’d regained my composure, I fumbled to find my phone which had lit up with text messages from my ‘friends’. Most of them just asked what had happened, how it went, and why in the world I hadn’t finished the job. I texted them back that I got enough done to prove our point, and that I got caught up, but everything was A-okay. I didn’t wait for any of them to respond. I actually didn’t care much whether they even wanted to be in my life any longer. Now I realized how stupid I was to play a part in their prank. And how much worse my night last night could have turned out.

I was still battling feelings of lust for my rapist as I took a long, steamy shower. Back and forth, my mind went through the cycles of whether to seek him out for more adventures or to stay far, far away from him because he was most obviously trouble. But I had spent my whole life playing it safe, and this man seemed to be anything but safe. That was what drew me to him, like a giant magnet labeled: ‘Fuck me!’

I stepped out of the shower, dried up, and got dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank-top.

I stopped battling with my own mind, there was no real use in it. I would go about my life as usual, I would go to classes, literacy club meetings, etc. And if Dallas decided to show his face to me, maybe I would talk to him if the situation called for it. That was my plan, as ill-thought-out as it may have been. I rushed across campus at about one o’clock, just in time for my first and last class of the day since I’d missed all the others.

I sat down in my normal seat at the front of the lecture hall. English Literature was by far my favorite subject, and it wouldn’t have been wrong to call me a teacher’s pet when it came to this class. However, about thirty minutes through our lecture about Pride and Prejudice, a knock came to the door at the back of the classroom and I turned to see who it was. My heart skipped a beat as I saw Dallas’ face.

It seemed it was just in the cards.

It didn’t seem that the man had noticed me just yet though. He walked down the steps to the front of the class, handing over a work-order form to Professor Condour. She looked down at the slip and read through it diligently. And while she was busy doing that, he looked up, catching gazes with me. My eyes were wide, and doe-like. His were nonchalant, sure not to make a show of it, but there was a small smile on his lips as if he were glad to see me.

The professor handed the slip back to Dallas, then tilted her head and looked apologetically at the class, “That seems to be all the time we have for today, class. They’re finally going to fix the damn air conditioning in here. We’ll pick up our discussion next time.” The kids around my bustled, glad to hear that class was over. I, on the other hand, took my time packing my notebook and leather-bound journal into my shoulder-sling bag. I stood, sighing as my intuition battled my heart, throwing my bag on over my shoulders and carefully taking the stairs down to the taller, older man who was already beginning to prepare the tools he would need to fix everything up.
“Maintenance?” I asked, leaning against the wall beside him.

He didn’t even look at me, “That a problem?”

I shook my head, “No, of course not. I just thought… you seemed like security or… maybe even a professor who’d stayed late, I don’t know…” I kept my voice low, careful not to let anyone overhear our conversation.

He chuckled under his breath, “There was a sign right outside my office that said ‘Maintenance’, baby.”

I felt embarrassed. Of course there was. And of course I hadn’t noticed. My cheeks reddened the more flustered I became, “Well… I was nervous. Obviously.”

“I know.”

“Why’d you call me baby?” I was just curious.

“To me, you are a baby. I’m old enough to be your father.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, not believing a word he said, “My father is 45. There’s no way you’re his age.” He smiled and shook his head at me, still busying himself. He still hadn’t spared me even a glance, which bothered me for some reason. I gulped. Moment of truth. “Well, do you want me or not?”

That got his attention. Dallas’ hands stopped fiddling with his tools. He turned his head to face me, narrowing his eyes, “That ain’t the question you need to be asking, baby.”

“So what is?”

“Do you want me?” his voice was low and baritone, it almost had its own under-rumble to it, “I’m just a maintenance man, but you’ve seen that I can be dangerous. I won’t go easy on you. I will fuck you until there ain’t nothing left. That what you want?”

My eyes widened again. I looked over my shoulder to see that all the students had cleared out. The only thing to fear was Mrs. Condour overhearing us from her office. But she seemed to be busy with something on the screen of her computer. My attention turned back to Dallas who was patiently awaiting my answer. There was a small frown on my lips, because I was scared. But it was time to step out of my comfort zone and this man had been haunting my almost every thought since late last night.

I longed for anything he could provide my body and my mind.

“I want you to teach me,” I answered.

He smirked, “Teach you what?”

“How to be your whore.”

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