Teach Me Dirty(6)

“I hope we still do this at uni,” she said.

“Of course. Always.”

“Do you think you’ll really be sad, when we get there? Without him, I mean.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I lied. “Maybe there’ll be a hot weirdo arty student out there for me, after all.”

“Do you ever think it could happen? For real? You and Mr Roberts?”

I smiled into the darkness, a sad smile. “Yeah, right. As if.”

“I’m serious,” she whispered. “Why wouldn’t it? I think he looks at you, you know. Sometimes.”

“I don’t even have time to list all the reasons why it wouldn’t happen, and you’re making it up. He’s my teacher. He doesn’t feel like that.”

“You don’t know that! So, he’s your teacher, but what about when he’s not?”

“I might never even see him again. He might have a girlfriend. A stunning arty girlfriend. He’s probably got one of those. At least one of those.”

“You know that’s crap. You know the rumours.”

“If the rumours are true then I’m screwed anyway.”

“I don’t think he’s gay. I think that’s just stupid kid talk.”

“I hope not.” I took a breath. “But I could live with bi. I could live with just about anything. I’d like bi. Crap, I’m really drunk.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being bi, Hels,” she whispered. “You’d like him to be dirty, wouldn’t you? Really dirty.”

Her tone made my heart flutter. I was so glad we were in darkness.

“…just think about it. In the art block, late, you’re painting and he comes up behind you… presses against your back… his warm breath on your neck…”

The hair on my arms prickled.

“…you can feel him… his hard cock against your ass, his fingers tracing up your thigh, pulling up your school skirt… Mr Roberts’ dirty fingers between your legs…”

I shifted in bed, and she snaked an arm across my waist.

“…I think he’d be good… I think he’d know just how to touch you… I think he could make you come, standing in his arms, just like that, maybe he’d make you moan for him, make you tell him how good it felt. Maybe he’d grab your hair, hold you still while his fingers pushed their way inside. Do you think he’d be rough? I think he’d be rough… You’d like him to be rough, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes…” My voice was barely a whisper. “Yes… I’d like him to be rough… you know I’d like him to be rough…”

“I think he’d take you hard. I think he’d f*ck hard and deep. I think he’s dirty, too. You can see it in his eyes, he’s so… dark… so… deep… I think he’d make you do all kinds of dirty things…”

And she had me. “Like what?” I breathed. “What do you think he’d make me do?”

Her ankle hooked around my calf. “I think he’d f*ck you so hard it would hurt. I think he’d say filthy things… I think he’d call you his bad little girl... Maybe he’d tie you up… take you however he wanted… maybe he’d make you pay for your dirty thoughts… maybe he’d spank you… bend you over his knee in your school skirt and make it sting… I’ve seen those steel rulers in the art block, Hels…” She giggled against my neck. “Maybe he’d use one of those… naughty girl…”

My breath hitched, and the giggles in my throat disappeared, vanished into nothing.

“I know you’d like that… I know you’d like to be over his knee… I know you’d like him to tell you how much of a naughty girl you are…”

“I am bad…” I rasped. “I am dirty…”

“You like it,” she teased, and her leg coaxed mine open. “You’ve always been dirty… I think he’d like that…”

“Oh God, Lizzie, I want him. I want him to make me bad…”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know what you want…”

“I’m so crazy about him I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the thought of never touching him, of never feeling him touch me…”

“Imagine his mouth… imagine his tongue… shit, Helen, can you imagine his hot lips around your nipples? His tongue flicking at you…” She giggled as her palm gazed my breast, but it wasn’t funny. “It’s ok,” she whispered. “Touch yourself, I don’t mind. We’re best friends forever, Hels, we can share anything. Anything, I promise.” A little giggle, coaxing me. “Tell me what you want him to do to you…”

I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. But my hand was already between my legs, slipping inside my panties.

“Oh God, Lizzie, I want him to f*ck me…”

“Yes…”

“I want him to be rough… I want him to lose control… I want him to tie me up, until I can’t move… I want to beg him to take me… I want to hear him come… I want to hear him moan… I want to taste him…”