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“Are you always this honest?” I ask, pulling my lightweight jacket from my body, placing it in the expanse of space between Stone and me.
“I may just be. So, what gives? Is that your teacher persona?” His voice fluctuates, and it’s lower than before. Is he flirting?
“I had the hardest time keeping a straight face during the whole skyscraper talk. The principal is very old-school, and I figured with it being a new job and such, I should mind my Ps and Qs.” I pull for the beer, taking a long sip of it. Okay, it isn’t a sip. I’m trying to calm my nerves. It’s been a while since I’ve flirted, and even longer with a guy. But I don’t have a good read on him, if in fact this is what he’s doing.
“You mean, you’re new to the school, or to Providence, too?” He takes a couple wings, placing them on his plate, and pushes it over toward me.
Pouring some dip on my dish, I regard his sentence. It’s not in the flirtatious tone as before. “Both actually, needed a change in scenery and found a job in the same town as my childhood friend. I was renting a house and signed a year lease, when the old kook gave me a week to vacate, letting his son take over, while said son finds himself.”
“I’d think”—he pulls for another swig of his beer—“it should be a short trip.”
This has me laughing in mid-bite, the spice of the wings being inhaled, the culprit of my coughing attack.
“You okay there, mate?” he asks and it’s so English.
“Um, yeah, that was pretty funny, but it will be a long enough trip that I had to vacate my premises. So, said friend is letting me take up residence in her garage apartment.”
He sets down his chicken, his hands on the table, staring at me. “That’s a very good friend.” He doesn’t break his stare, and I finally, out of awkwardness, look away. “Has anyone ever told you you’re cute?” Stone pauses for a brief second and opens his mouth as though he has more to say, and I wait. I can’t imagine what will come out of his mouth. “Okay, so it’s bloody fucking obvious you’re cute. Let me rephrase this question. Has any man ever told you that you’re fucking gorgeous?”
Ah, very specific, and I push my chicken wings aside, too. “No one in an Englishy Irish accent.”
“Whoa, I’m all Irish, with a very little hint of English, may I add, and back to the last question, so a man has?”
I lean my arm on the bartop table as he has. “And what would you say if I said a couple have at various times in my life?”
“I’d want more information on what happened, or as you yanks say, went down, after those compliments.”
I wait a second to gather my thoughts. I have so many different responses on the tip of my tongue, and each may get a different reaction from my Irishman with a tinge of English.
“Do you still think I’m a stiff, uptight teacher?” I lean closer, as my tone is not more than a whisper.
“I’d say I actually would like to see if you’ll use your stern tone on me. I love to dominate, but I’ll let you use your authoritative voice on me.”
Shit, I’m flirting with my student’s father. Isn’t that a line you shouldn’t cross? I’ve never had to worry about this, because honestly, I’ve never found any of my student’s parent’s attractive.
“And please do not use the whole, ‘there’s a line I shouldn’t cross,’ sort of excuse. We’re both big boys, we can make it as simple as we want. And fuck, right now, I want to simply fuck you. Or, let you simply fuck me.”
The practical teacher emerges if just for a second. “It could get sticky, you know.”
He scoots around the booth, closer to me. “I rather like it a bit sticky.”
He’s as free as anyone I’ve ever met. It’s quite refreshing.
“I’m talking about your son, my student. You’re the dad.”
He pulls back, giving me a mock gasp. “You don’t say, you’re a teacher, my son’s teacher at that?”
Now he’s being a cute asshole. “I mean it, Stone. We’ve talked for all of thirty minutes, and you want to what?”
“Fuck you. Or you fuck me. Again, I’m not picky. Bottom or top. I’m good with this, too, for the first time, that is…”
When was the last time I had a good release? Surely well before Marcie left me.
He leans closer to my ear. “No one has to know, Teach. Just don’t overthink it. I swear I’ll make it worth your time and effort, my good lad.”
Something comes over me and I’m not sure what it is, in this moment. “I thought I was the teacher. I should be calling you lad, you know.”
“Then what are we waiting for, Teach? I want to learn something new tonight. And I promise, no strings. Plus, I can be as discreet as a mermaid swimming.”
I won’t touch his analogy. And with my eyes roaming over his entire body, my mind has completely checked out on me. What the hell, one night. It’s all it will be. Right?
