Chapter Four
HOPE
I’m sitting at Wilson Delaney’s desk, my feet kicked onto a patch of dark rings from coffee cup stains.
I’m tossing a glistening red apple into the air and catching it again.
Today’s haul was surprisingly good, though that has something to do with it being a Friday afternoon.
Friday means the weekend starts and nobody’s worried about work.
In fact, Friday and Saturday are my best days at the Velveteen Gentleman’s Club.
Everyone’s partying during the day, drinking themselves into a stupor so their nights aren’t bitter and lonely.
Had I been doing nights, I’m sure they’d be good every day of the week, but you can’t always get what you want. If I want to succeed beyond being a puppet for my family’s drinking and drug habits, night school will have to do.
It used to be a nerve-wracking venture, jumping onto the stage and stripping for money.
But it didn’t take long for me to acclimate to my surroundings.
The Velveteen’s main floor is dark enough that I barely see the faces lingering at my feet.
While they shout and cheer, the only thing I see is the numbers on green sheets of paper.
A dollar here, ten there, turns into a couple hundred without much effort.
While I wouldn’t say I’m proud of what I do, I feel content counting my notes at the end of a dance.
We do what we must to survive, even when circumstances aren’t particularly pleasant.
It’s peculiar being in the classroom at night.
These nightly lessons are held in the same high school I attended two years ago.
Every time I step through the halls, I’m filled with a sense of dread.
It’s a peculiar sensation. It almost feels wrong, since general school is held during the daytime.
It’s an unmistakable feeling, somewhat akin to walking through an abandoned hospital or a haunted house.
Being here alone is even scarier. It’s as if I’m in the middle of some slasher movie and the masked attacker is going to arrive any moment to chase me through the halls. A vivid imagination plays horrible games on a girl when she’s alone… Not that I will be for long.
Wilson Delaney will be arriving any moment now, and we can continue the game of cat and mouse that I started last night.
Right on cue, I hear footsteps approaching down the hall. They’re fast, hard, and deliberate as they near the room. I’m not wholly convinced that they’re not the footsteps of a serial killer hunting me; but, if this were a horror flick, I’d be a fool to assume I’m the main character.
It doesn’t stop me from sliding lower in the chair, parting my legs, and waiting for whoever it may be.
Wilson or not, they’ll be getting what so many have paid for, free.
I clutch my red apple in three fingers, like a pitcher about to throw a final strike.
I bring it next to my matching red lips and wait.
Then he enters, stepping through the classroom door. His leather carry bag drops out of his hand and hits the floor. His jaw follows.
Wilson Delaney, such a strong man crumbling at the sight of my cobalt panties.
“Good evening, Mr. Delaney.” I take a bite of the apple, and it gives the satisfying crunch I want.
“Hello, Hope.” Wilson averts his eyes, dropping to one knee to collect his bag. “What are you doing here so early? Class doesn’t start for—“
“I know what time class starts, Mr. Delaney. I thought I’d come in early, get some one-on-one time with my teacher. A few extra minutes might be valuable for my… education.”
“Feel free to take your seat,” Wilson points to where I usually sit in the front row. “If you have any questions, I’m happy to help.”
Wilson approaches the desk, but keeps a distance between us. I kick my feet off the flimsy wood and plant them firmly on the ground. I stand, discarding the apple on the desk’s corner, and make my way closer to him.
“My desk’s a little far.” I give him my best puppy-dog eyes with a pout, trailing my finger over the thick coffee stain. “I thought we could get hands-on with this session.”
Wilson’s attempts to push me away made me want this more. The desire he left me with has amplified tenfold. His instant reaction to my touch tells me what I need to know. He’s staying away because he feels he has to. He wants to stay honorable, in control, and untouched.
But his body craves me the very same way mine does his.
Somehow, this has helped me shake the nervousness. I’m not standing here with a fluttering heart and crippling panic anymore. I’m taking what I want with conviction and certainty.
“You don’t want to get involved with me, Hope,” the same husky whisper takes over his usually melodic voice.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I mean it.” Wilson keeps his head fixed on the whiteboard to our side.
“It’s all I think about.” I press a finger into his chest, dragging it along the ridges of his muscular physique. A low grumble rolls through Wilson’s barrel chest. “Daydreaming about you bending me over this desk. Doing whatever you want. Using me to your heart’s content.”
“Where’s the decency?” he asks.
“I had it a moment ago. I swear. Must’ve set it down somewhere,” a devilish giggle follows my words. “I’ll be forgetting my own head next.”
“Cute, but that’s enough,” Wilson proclaims.
“Enough? This is only the beginning.”
My finger drives lower until I reach his belt. I jam the tip into the waistline of his pants and pull him closer to me. His body presses into mine, and I get on my tippy toes to throw my arms around his neck.
“Why are you so insistent on fighting it?” I lean in for another kiss, and although reluctant, Wilson reciprocates it.
It’s brief and sudden, but without warning, his hand rises and wraps around my throat.
He squeezes gently, and squints at me. This is his final stand.
One more attempt at breaking away, standing strong, and staying in control.
“Kinky. I like it,” I say.
“You’re being a bad girl, Hope,” Wilson says. His grip loosens, along with his resolve.
“What do you say we have some fun before class starts?” I wink.
I fully expect him to rebuff my advances again, but he doesn’t. With his grip around my neck, he pulls me in for another kiss. This time, our mouths smash in a passionate embrace and our tongues clash in a messy, heated kiss.
I’m greeted by something hard poking my stomach.
“I can feel you against me. Are you going to let me feel you inside?” I ask between kisses. I trail a hand down his body again, this time continuing past his waistline and meeting his erection.
Wilson whimpers. The burly giant is putty in my hands and I love it.
“Your body craves mine.” I take his cock in my hand over his pants, stroking back and forth. “Why not give it what it wants? Why not give me what I want?”
“Because it’s not right.” There’s no protest left in Wilson. He’s letting me do whatever I want. His words are a way to console himself about what we’re both desperate for.
“There is no right and wrong, just shades of gray.”
“That’s a funny way of looking at things for someone your age. Aren’t you supposed to care more about partying and pretending there isn’t a care in the world?”
“Casual conversations about maturity and mortality while you’re getting your cock stroked? Is that really what we’re doing?” I tighten my grip around Wilson’s erection, and a gentle moan leaves him.
“Who says men can’t multi-task?” A joke? He’s easing into the idea. Good.
A sudden knock sounds at the door, and I immediately break away.
“Wilson, you in there?” A man’s voice comes. “Got something I want to talk to you about.”
The man steps into the doorway. Like Wilson, he’s tall, but that’s where the similarities end. With a pot-belly, bald head, and porcine features, our interrupter looks like a real thumb of a man. He’s out of breath and red in the face. He gives me a greasy grin that makes me feel uneasy.
“Fuck,” Wilson mutters under his breath. It seems directed more at the interruption, rather than being caught with me. “What is it, Tom?”
“So sorry, Will. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Can I pull you away for a second?” Tom asks. I suspect he’s another one of the teachers, though I haven’t seen his face before.
“Give me a second,” Wilson addresses Tom, who steps back into the hallway.
“What are you going to do about your…” I don’t say the word, instead gesturing at his tenting pants with my head.
“Oops, you did it again.” What the fuck did he just say? A sudden rush of nerves makes my cheeks burn red hot. It can’t be. “Left me with an awkward erection while I’ve got to see people.”
I don’t speak. My mind’s still racing with the possibility that Wilson saw me on my afternoon shift at the Velveteen. But… why would he be there? I’m being silly.
Wilson turns around and makes his way for the door.
Without missing a beat, Tom speaks in a whisper. “She’s a real hot piece of ass, isn’t she? Porcelain skin, black hair… What I’d give to have a few rounds with her.”
“Suppose so,” Wilson says.
He doesn’t need to say more to bring a smile to my face.
“I didn’t interrupt something, did I? You busy hitting that?” Tom’s voice ruins my fantasy.
“What do you want, Tom? I need to prepare.”
“Oh, right,” Tom goes on to speak with Wilson about some teacher’s meeting set for early next week. Wilson says he’ll be there and bring the brews. Might as well make a party out of it.
After their chat, Wilson steps back into the room, pointing at my chair. Like a good girl, I follow his instructions and take my seat.
“No more, do you understand?” he says, with incredible authority.
I don’t say a word, because we both know his words are meaningless.