See Me After Class(100)

“You are something else,” I say before taking a sip of my drink.

“You like it.”

“I like you.”

She smiles over her wine glass. “Smooth, Turner . . . smooth.”





“I think I still have sea legs,” Greer says as I hold her hand on our way up to her apartment.

“Technically, they would be lake legs since we weren’t out at sea.”

“You sound like Keiko.”

“No one sounds like Keiko.” I chuckle. “She has her own way of speaking.”

“Which I love. Sometimes, I just want to sit back and listen to her. I think things are getting hot and heavy with her and Kelvin.”

“I can’t imagine Kelvin Thimble ever getting hot and heavy.”

“He’s quite the charmer—at least, that’s what Keiko says.”

We make it to her apartment and she turns toward me, gripping the bottom of my vest. “Want to come inside?”

I sure as hell do. I want to come inside her.

Really fucking bad.

I want to taste her as she comes on my tongue.

I want to hear her trembling cries as she orgasms around my fingers.

Then eat her again.

And again.

And fuck.

“I don’t think that’s a really good idea.”

“Ah, you’re horny, huh? Afraid you’ll plow your love stick inside me?”

“Do you have to say it like that?”

“It’s more fun.” She smiles and stands on her toes, pressing a soft kiss to my mouth. “Thanks for the wonderful date. Goodnight.” She unlocks her door and reaches for the handle, but I stop her and twirl her around, only to gently push her against the door.

One hand next to her head, propping me up, and the other gripping her jaw, I tilt her mouth up and say, “No way in hell you’re getting away with a quick peck.”

“No?” Her fingers hook through my belt loops. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

Moving in closer, I lower my mouth to hers and, without answer, I take what I want. I open her mouth right away and dive my tongue against hers. I’m hungry, needy. I want so much from her, but know I need to take this slow, so I focus on her mouth and her mouth only. I don’t move my hands from where they are now, even though I want to feel her breast in my palm. I want to rub the silk of her shirt over her stomach, and I want to cause her to gasp by pinching her nipple between my fingers . . . maybe my teeth.

Her hand creeps up my chest, exploring, and unbuttoning my vest . . .

“Greer.”

“What?” I feel her smile against my mouth.

“Don’t.”

“But don’t you want to, you know, let me suck you?”

Jesus.

Christ.

I push off the door and put some distance between us as my hand pulls on my hair.

“What’s wrong?” She smiles wickedly.

“You’re evil.”

She chuckles, and it makes me charge toward her again. This time, I pin her with my hand to her hip, and the other slides up her stomach, under her shirt to just below her breast. She gasps into my mouth as I try to leave my print on her. Make her remember exactly who she’s dealing with.

She clings to me, opens her mouth, and . . . I pull away.

She nearly falls over from the loss of me, eyes wide, chest heaving. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Reminding you who has control in the bedroom.”

“I don’t think I could forget.”

“Sounded like you did there for a second.” I take another step back. “I’m going to leave, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She bites her bottom lip and nods as she rests against the door of her apartment.

“Don’t look sad,” I say.

“Sad the evening is over, but I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gives me a cute wave. “Night, Arlo.”

“Night, Greer,” I say, watching her disappear into her apartment.

Hell, I need to get out of here . . . now.





“Sunday—is everyone coming?” Gunner asks when I walk into the teachers’ lounge for lunch. Greer is already sitting at the table with Keiko and Stella. Romeo and Gunner are sitting at another table but close enough to have a conversation.

“Are we required?” Stella asks before picking up a meatball sub and taking a huge bite.

“Yes, you are.”

“Are we practicing at Arlo’s house again?” Romeo asks.

I retrieve my salad from the fridge and nod. “Yeah, I have all the gear. It’s easier.”

“I think someone likes being the Monica Geller of the group,” Romeo says.

“What?” I ask.

“Monica Geller, sibling to Ross Geller,” Keiko pipes up. “From the popular American sitcom, Friends. Within the semi-diverse group of six comrades, she was considered—in street terms—the neat freak, the obsessive, and the hostess with the mostest. To be precise, season four, episode thirteen, properly titled ‘The One with Rachel’s Crush’—”

“I think we’re good on the detail,” Stella says. “No need to dive deep into the multi-faceted plots of Friends.” Whispering to us, Stella says, “She’ll go on forever.”