Scream For me

I pull my hair back into a high ponytail, slicking on some red gloss and adding a small black wing of eyeliner. My hips sway as I sing to Taylor Swift blaring over my phone speaker. Maybe it’s the way Weston Vaughn looks at me or maybe it’s knowing that a man like him wants me, but I’m feeling empowered tonight. I sort through my closet, finding a black fitted turtleneck dress with long sleeves. I pull it on, shimmying it over my hips before looking at myself in the mirror.

“Not too bad.” The dress is tight, hugging my curves and hitting me about mid-thigh. It’s a lot different than my typical school dress. I’ve had it shoved in my closet for a while. I never had a reason to wear it because I never went out anywhere. Sometimes Xana and I have a glass of wine here or there, but I didn’t have coworkers who wanted to have happy hours and I was far too lost in my grief to join them even if they did.

I grab my thigh-high black suede boots to pull the outfit together. They’re flat so they bring an edgy, casual look to the outfit. I sling my purse over my arm and make my way to the train to head to the bar.

“You look like you got a tan.” Bridgette, the third-grade teacher, looks at my exposed thigh.

“Oh yeah, I went to the Bahamas recently.”Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

“Ugh.” She sips on her espresso martini. “I’m jealous. The last time I went on vacation was with my boyfriend and his parents to Lake Geneva in Wisconsin. Can you say boring?”

“Lake Geneva is beautiful though.” I smile, trying not to sound like I was bragging about the Bahamas.

“Did you say you were in the Bahamas?” Preston steps up behind me, standing between Bridgette and me, his hand resting on the back of my stool.

“Yeah, over Labor Day weekend.”

“Daaaamn, I was wondering why you didn’t show up to my beach party.” I give him a confused look. “Oh, I sent out an email.”

“Oh shoot, I must have missed it. I pretty much had my phone off the entire trip. Just wanted to disconnect, ya know?” “Totally,” he says, looking over at Bridgette.

“Oh, um, I need to talk to Jeremy about something.” She grabs her martini and slips off her stool.

“So how are you liking teaching at Crestwood?” He takes a seat on the stool next to me, placing his beer on the bar top.

“I like it a lot. Not only are the teachers amazing, but the administration is so communicative and open to feedback. My favorite part is my students though.”

“Of course. I feel like my fourth graders are a riot; they always have me laughing.”

“I bet.” I take a sip of my vodka soda, nervously tapping the side of the glass as an awkward silence settles between us.

“Hey, so I’ve been wanting to ask you-”

“Game time!” Sean, one of our physical education teachers, appears out of nowhere behind us, slapping Preston on the back loudly. “Playing put a finger down, bitches. Let’s go!” he shouts, cupping his hand to the side of his mouth.

“I guess we’re playing putting a finger down?” I turn my stool to face the others, a look of disappointment on Preston’s face, but I’m relieved because of the way that conversation was going, I’m almost positive he was about to ask me out.

“Okay, I’ll go first,” Bridgette says in her mouselike voice. “Put a finger down if”-she giggles-“you’ve had sex in your parent’s bed.”

“Ewww!” someone says dramatically as several people put a finger down.

“Put a finger down if you’ve ever been arrested,” Sean says, putting his down immediately. “Hey, I was only sixteen and it was for skinny-dipping so it was just a misdemeanor,” he shouts.

“I am not surprised.” Nate, our music teacher, laughs.

We continue with the game and it’s getting closer to my turn. “I have no idea what to say.” I look over at Preston nervously. I still have all ten of my fingers up. I haven’t taken many risks at all. My phone dings in my bag that’s on my lap and I pull it out. There’s a message from Weston.

Weston: Put a finger down if you’ve ever had your brains fucked out in the bathroom of a bar.

My head snaps up as I quickly flip my phone over so nobody can see the message. I glance around and that’s when I see him, leaning against the doorway of the hall that leads to the restrooms.

“I have to go to the restroom,” I say, sliding off my stool and quickly walking toward the back of the bar. I round the corner, almost running into Weston’s chest.

“What are you doing here?” He doesn’t respond; he just grabs my arm and pulls me into the women’s restroom, locking the door behind us.

“I think you know why I’m here.” He reaches for his belt, undoing it as he pushes against the center of my back. “Hold on to the sink.”

“What?” I look back at him over my shoulder as he unzips his pants.

“Fuck, you look good in this little dress.” He slides his hand up my leg, beneath the dress to grab a handful of my ass. He pulls it up over my ass, smacking me hard before pulling my panties to the side. “But you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

I grip the edge of the sink as he presses himself against me. “Ahh!” The intrusion is painful.

He pulls back and slides in further, pushing me up onto my toes. He wraps my ponytail around his hand, holding it tightly as he tugs me back so I’m looking at him in the mirror. “I want you sitting there next to him with my cum dripping out of you. Tell me, baby, tell me who you belong to.” He doesn’t stop his movements; they grow harder and faster.

“Y-you.” I barely get the word out. I grip the sink harder as he slams into my body over and over.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Every time you laugh or squirm tonight and you feel me running down your thighs, soaking your panties, I want you to remember that.”

His words push me over the edge. His hand clamps over my mouth as I cry out in ecstasy, completely forgetting we’re in a public place. When he finishes, he slowly pulls out, putting my panties and dresses back into place before cleaning himself off.

“You have stunning eyes.” He looks at me in the mirror, his hands resting on my waist. “And a grade-A pussy.”

I laugh, then wince, the feeling of warmth slowly seeping out of me. “Oh God.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just, um, leaking already.”

“Good, now go back out there and enjoy your evening.”

“I’m going to leave a wet spot on the stool.”

He gives me that smirk, the one that makes my knees weak. “Exactly. Marking my territory.” He spins me around, smacking my ass and sending me back out to rejoin my group.