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I waited for a well-earned compliment, or something to tell me I wasn't wrong about thinking my portrait was damn good, but she never spoke, just moved on without another word.
Forget it. I'd never let her break me, or doubt myself with her games. I refused to give her that type of power.
"We're starting clean today," she announced. Her smart, red suit was a shock of brilliance in the gloomy, shadowed room. I guessed she'd run out of black this morning. No natural light shone through the windows today. It was just another dark, stormy day in Chicago. "I want you to use what we've been working on with the anatomy. Jason, will you come in here, please?"
A guy walked in. Young, clean-shaven head, dark eyes. He was tall, lean, with big feet and hands. He wore a white robe. He seemed not to give a crap that a roomful of art students were staring at him, and would not only paint but analyze every inch of his body over the next few days. He stood with a subtle arrogance and power I recognized. I'd never sketched a nude male before and promised myself I'd go for it, not allowing any societal barriers or embarrassment to block my creative energy.
"Class, this is Jason. You may take your position, please."
He shrugged off the robe. I got the impression of lean strength, a mass of dark, curly body hair, and a dick that would probably be pretty damn big if he was aroused. Thank God he wasn't. He lowered himself to the chair, stretching out his legs, propping his fist on his face in a pose resembling the Thinker, then stared out the window at something we couldn't see.
"I want to see a mingling of reality and intellectuality in this assignment. I want to own that look on his face, and at the same time feel as if I could reach out and touch the muscles on his body. Begin."
It took me a while to get out of my own head, but when I entered that free zone, I was off and flying. My fingers sketched until my muscles cramped, and the hours passed with just a few water breaks. I was on a kind of high as the afternoon wore on, until those red heels snapped their way to my station and a cold, mocking voice rose in the air.
"Are you afraid of a penis, Mr. Hunt?"
I stiffened. Low chuckles cut through the room. I gritted my teeth. "No."
"Good. And you have one, correct?"
More tittering. My ears turned red, but I did my best not to lose it. She was such a cold-hearted bitch. "Last I checked, I had one. I like it, too."
I cranked my head around to look her in the face. Show no fear. Her blood-red lips tightened, and she stared down at me with a haughty dignity I ached to ruffle. Why was she always on my shit? I had no idea what I ever did to her.
"Then I guess you rarely examined it, since the proportions seem oddly off-center."
One of the girls outright giggled, but I was locked in a staring match with the Ice Queen and refused to avert my gaze. "I disagree," I stated firmly. "If you'll look again, I think you'd find it's quite accurate."
Her nose crinkled, and her mouth pursed as if she'd tasted a lemon. She looked like I was a bug she craved to squash. I didn't back down, though. I had a feeling she ate men who didn't have the balls to stand up to her, and damned if I was going down when my life and career were at stake. She upped the ante.
"Perhaps you need a better view. Close up."
Silence fell. A strange tension lit the air between us, as if a game was being played where I didn't know the rules. I knew, in that moment, whatever I did would set the rest of the tone. I was sick to death of her exploiting my shit for the others and demeaning me on a daily basis.
I grinned. "Maybe you're right. I'll double-check." I pushed my chair out deliberately and strolled casually to the small, uplifted stage. Jason kept his pose, and I knelt down until my face was about even with his dick. Pretending to examine it while the class held their breath, I finally rose, slapped my hands together, and gave a thumbs-up signal.
"Nah, I'm good. I got it just about perfect."
The class burst into laughter. I grinned with them and swaggered back to my chair. Ava never moved, her delicate nostrils flared slightly like an angry mare. Her chilly green eyes gleamed with deadly intent.
"Thank you for the laugh, Mr. Hunt. Make sure you see me after class."
She clicked away. There were some low mutters among the class, but I pretended not to care, going back to my portrait. Inside, though, I was a mess, wondering if my pride had destroyed my opportunity to be in the show.
Finally, it was the end of the day, and most of the students had left. Jason had disappeared, and the class was empty. I packed up my shit, running my fingers over the lines of my portrait of the woman, thinking of Quinn. No reason to rush home, but maybe I'd get some sleep since I had the early shift at Joe's. I lingered, enjoying the silence and the smell of the art room, the peace of presence it gave me inside when I was surrounded by equipment I loved. I zipped up my art bag and heard a low moan.
My ears pricked. What the hell? I was supposed to meet with the Ice Queen, but I'd thought she'd left. Moving silently on my sneakers, I eased through the doorway and peeked my head around the corner into her battered office.
Another sound. Was she hurt?
I took one more step, ready to call out, and froze to my spot.
Ava was on her knees, facing me. Jason stood before her, naked, while she sucked his cock. As she worked him, his ass muscles tightened and he moved her head up and down, trying to control the pace, but I could already tell who was really in charge.
A sick fascination kept me rooted to the spot, along with total shock. What the hell was going on? I went to move back, to pretend I never saw the intimate scene, but her eyes snapped open, and she held my gaze like a boa constrictor squeezing me tight, refusing to allow me to move or even breathe.
Holy. Shit.
My teacher slid her tongue around his dick, her scarlet lips moving up and down with a suction that made Jason groan and mutter under his breath. He jerked his hips, but she never quickened her pace. Raw lust and a cold control shot from those green eyes, commanding me to watch her until she was done.
I meant to move. I tried to get my feet to lift from the ground and back away from this porno scene that was screwing with my head, but suddenly she grabbed his balls and began jerking her head hard, her lips closing tight, and then he was shouting and coming, and I was getting aroused by the sick show.
She swallowed, and when she raised her head and licked her lips, she gave me a small, triumphant smile.
Choking back a shocked cry, I finally got my body to listen and stumbled away from the door. My hands shook as I grabbed my art bag and flew out of the school.
What the hell was going on? That was some fucked-up power play, and I was in the middle of it without knowing why. Did she want to have sex with me? Torture me? Punish me?
I sensed that was no regular scene I just happened to interrupt. That was a well-rehearsed, well-constructed sex show meant just for my eyes. But why?
Before Quinn, I would've gotten off on the game. Hell, I'd lived for shit like that. Now? It just made me feel...dirty.
How the hell could I tell Quinn? The cold air hit my face hard and stole my breath, but it felt clean and pure. She knew I was having trouble with Ava, but after their meeting in the art store, there was no way I could explain that scene without it sounding like I'd done something with her. Especially since I didn't know Ava's intentions. Did Quinn really need to know? It wasn't like I did anything wrong. But I didn't like the idea that not telling her could be construed as a lie.
Shit.
I got back to my apartment and tried to stay distracted, but my whole body ached for Quinn. I needed to see her. Hold her close, remind myself of her goodness and natural sexiness that had nothing to do with games and manipulation. A reminder I didn't live in that world any longer. But she had class till late, and we'd planned to meet tomorrow to talk. I just had to deal with this on my own.
I had to talk to Ava. I refused to have a fucked-up teacher ruin everything. Maybe I'd try getting to class extra early so we could
meet. Get to the bottom of her sick shit, and if I had to, I'd go to administration and complain. It was the only recourse that made sense.
Feeling calmer with a plan, I settled down for the night.
Chapter Eleven
QUINN
"QUINN, WE'RE GRABBING A DRINK. Come with us!"
I looked over from rolling up my yoga mat and shook my head. "I'm beat, guys."
The small group of four groaned, and Jessica stepped over, grabbing my mat from my fingers. "You said that last time. Girlfriend, take a break and have a damn drink with us!"
I laughed. In a matter of a few sessions, I'd grown close to the other four students enrolled in the special program at New Beginnings. They were a lot like me. Dedicated workaholics who wanted to make the world better. Each had their own personal addiction story--either themselves, or someone close--and we'd grown tight after a few sharing sessions.
Since our fight, James and I had talked on the phone, but we'd planned to get together tonight after his shift. Still, I had plenty of time for one drink. "Okay, but I can't stay long."
Jessica whooped, putting away my mat, and I grabbed my coat and purse. "Hey, Brian, come on. You need a break, too!"
Brian's gaze swung around and rested on me. I shifted my feet. We hadn't mentioned the night he drove me home, and I was glad. He waved his hand in the air. "Go without me, young 'uns. I'm too old."
The group shouted good-natured insults. "You're like, what, dude? Thirty! Live a little."
After a bit of cajoling, Brian laughed. "Fine, fine, I'm coming."
We walked to the pub, and Jessica ordered us a round of beer. Sometimes I still got a craving for the fruity Sex on the Beach island drinks I'd gotten addicted to in Key West, but back in Chicago I reverted to wine again when I did drink. Wasn't much of a beer drinker, but I kept quiet since she was being nice.
We squeezed into a battered bar booth and raised our glasses. I couldn't resist the quip. "Hey, guys. Do you think it's a little weird we're working at a rehab and the first thing we want to do is get a cocktail?"
We shared a glance. Everyone seemed to ponder my question with good intention. Then Jessica spoke.
"Fuck no! Drink up!"
Everyone laughed. I sipped my beer, which still wasn't very good, and met Brian's eyes across the booth. His features took on a serious expression as he studied me, and I couldn't seem to look away. Jessica pulled the others away for a game of darts, and we were left alone at the table.
