Teacher's Pet

He left and I was left deflated. Like a giant sunlight had disappeared from my life. The apartment instantly fell cold without his presence around. It was strange to feel that since he’d only been here twice, what was even stranger was how quickly I’d grown attached to him.

In the bedroom, he’d left everything piled neat and clean. I hadn’t asked him to do that, in fact, I’d want to fold it up and take care of it myself. The idea of him being my kitten who needed taking care of. It was nice to feel needed and wanted the way he made me feel.

He stayed on my mind, and he kisses lingered on my face.

I couldn’t control the excitement swelling around my body, the way he made me feel couldn’t be compared to. It was like someone had taken everything from me and replaced it with vibrations.

As the day progressed and I tried to be alert and see Asher, whether it was in the hallway or whether it was him walking past the classroom. I knew he was busy, and I tried not to let myself fall into the pit of excitement like I was resorting to my childlike years. He brought that out of me, my teen years of wanting to play with myself constantly, and the way my body recalled his way of touch and play, it was sense memory at its finest, and I wanted more of it, all over, I wanted it, again and again.

Just after the last class, as the student left, I saw him standing at the door.

There wasn’t a wide smile I’d seen from earlier.

“We have to talk,” he said, softly, his voice pinched. He closed the door and the smile I had been wearing with excitement faded from my features. “We’ve had fun, but—”

My back straightened in the chair. “What?”

“Someone at the Manor knows that I was at yours,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “And—and they don’t like it when we sleep with guys who were at the Manor, and now that is outside.”

“Sorry, what are you saying?”

“We can’t do—this.” He looked me up and down in the chair.

I wasn’t understanding what he was saying, or my brain was refusing to process what he was telling me. “Asher.”

“I need that job. It’s how I can afford to live. I’m not from some rich family like everyone else at the house. I’ll be lucky if any of my family even come to my graduation,” he said, turning away from me. “So, I—”

Standing, I grabbed his hand by the wrist. “It’s still our secret though.”

“You’re not understanding,” he said, whipping his hand out of my hold. “I need a job, my job is dressing up and making men feel good. I—I dressed up for you, I made you feel good. It’s what I do.”

“Asher.” I tried once more to reach for his hand. “What happened between us wasn’t work though. It was just us, we—we connected.”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather make money than connect with someone. You’re like—you’re like—” he turned briefly to look at me, his eyes red and pink, raw with tears. “We could never work. And everything you’re doing makes me think you want something between us, and—and I just can’t.”

“Asher, wait.”

He stormed off, slamming the classroom door behind.

I fell back into my chair at the desk. I was broken and deflated.

All those tickling butterflies had lost their wings, plucked viciously from them and now they sat at the bottom of my stomach collecting dust. My trembling fingers tried to still themselves as I placed them flat on the desk. I felt awful, betrayed, and I wanted to throw up.