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My face remains expressionless. “Good, now go.” She is taken aback by my bluntness, but scurries out after unlocking the door.
Looking at the mirror, I turn the tap on and splash my face with cold water. Looking back up as it drips off my face, I judge myself slightly. It didn’t even work. The minute I closed my eyes, it was her. It is always her, invading my thoughts, my dreams and my art.
Fuck.
Oh, and that performance just now? That was me faking an orgasm for the very first time.
27
BANKS
The guys were all drug tested this past weekend. I just got the results back, along with the coaching staff.
They all passed. Not a hint of drugs in anyone's system.
Don’t get me wrong, I am ecstatic, but it’s not like these guys. I know they party, and they go big. But who am I to question a good thing? The team is still intact. The guys are still happy. I am not going to ruin it with my curiosity.
I scroll through a few more emails from the professors that contain updates on assignments and quizzes, and add them to my calendar. Each player has their own color code, so I can keep track of it all and follow up with them on it. This is what keeps me organized or I would be absolutely all over the place.
A new email pops up from the coach replying to the drug test results, a simple thank you, acknowledging he got them. Seconds later, a knock on my open door catches my attention, it’s Coach Taylor. That was quick, he must have replied from his phone.
“Hey Coach, I saw all the guys passed. That’s great news for the team.” His face doesn’t give away what he’s thinking.
He clears his throat. “How are the Coopers doing? I know we are only two weeks into the new semester, but I can’t have them fucking up midterms. We need them for playoffs, Banks.”
The last time I had any interaction with them was at the game, when they both looked at me after the goal by Lynx.
“Uh, yeah, no, everything looks good for the boys. A paper due next week for Hudson and an art project for Landon before midterms. I will check in with them later this week to make sure everything is on track. Both are attending their classes. No news is good news, for now.” Reassured, he nods, absorbing what I’ve told him.
“Good, good. Banks…” he steps further into my office. “You’re doing a great job here. You are about the team. It doesn’t go unnoticed. Thank you.”
I’m taken aback, not at all expecting this from Coach Taylor. ”Wow, thank you. That means a lot. I do, I just want these guys to succeed no matter where they go from here. I appreciate you saying that, Coach.”
“Just call it like I see it. You’re a perfect fit for us,” he turns around to head out, but stops just before stepping through the frame. Looking back at me, he winks then takes his leave. My body freezes, what in the hell was that for?
It’s finallythe end of the day, the skies are dark and the air is cold as I walk through campus to my car.
It almost feels like a storm is coming, and that’s unusual for January in Groveton, so I hope I am wrong.
My short legs move as fast as they can to get back into warmth. The wind blows through my hair, chilling my ears. I can barely feel my face.
My car is in sight and it looks like someone has put a flier on my windshield. So annoying and a waste of their money, I never read them and I doubt many do. As I reach my car, I grab it and get in. I go to throw it in my backseat, but notice a white piece of paper sticking out of it. It doesn’t match the rest of the flier coloring, so I’m curious.
Banksy,
We are always watching. Not a word to anyone. You know the consequences. How are your grafts healing?
That’s it. I flip it over to double check that I’m not missing anything, but it’s blank.
This is the first time I have heard from Hudson since they dropped me off. I know it’s him because of his pet name for me,Banksy. Landon doesn’t call me that.
I hold the note close against my chest, and lean back against the headrest. A sick part of me misses them. The depraved degradation, the blunt and raw emotion that Hudson would give me, the silent gentleness mixed in with the psychological aggression that Landon has.
I close my eyes, and memories of it all flash before me. What they did was horrible. Why they did it is even worse. The threat of it happening again makes me desperate for their attention. As much as we despised each other, toward the end, something changed. Call it crazy, call it Stockholm syndrome, or just plain stupidity. Something clicked on that last day, that moment in bed when we all came together. We wanted to. We needed to. And it was perfect.
Opening my eyes, I look out the windshield, but no one is around. Keeping the note close to my chest, I slide my other hand down the front of my navy blue leggings, my oversizedwinter coat hides what I am doing, should someone walk up or past me.
My panties are soaked. I use my thumb to play with my clit and my eyes grow heavy, picturing their big, thick, veiny cocks. Hudson loved jerking off on me. He would grip it harder with each stroke, playing with his head and precum. Landon pushed his into me without mercy. My first fuck in years and it was with him. Ramming into my pussy, squeezing my petite frame with his hands, so possessively that I had his prints on my body for days following.
