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Forever Young

6

The weekend flashed by too quickly for my liking, probably because my mother was out of town and I spent it all drunk with Oliver hopping from one party to the next. Most of my fellow classmates got the right impression of me—I was weird and it would be best if they left me alone—that didn’t stop Oliver though and as the days went he slowly grew closer and closer to me. This weekend was a great distraction, but it all led up to my day of hell with Mr. Strong who was probably going to get me expelled for my lewd behavior. The only obvious thing to do was ditch school, I was going to avoid him for as long as I could, or at least until my mother got back.

I had been in bed all day, lounging around in nothing but a floral bandeau and a pair of pajamas. Oliver and Cassandra were both at school, every damn day; I didn’t understand. Oliver parties hard, manages to make it to football practice every morning before school and keeps his grades up. Then we had my perfect sister: Cassandra, who wouldn’t risk her 4.0 for anything. Her definition of fun was cheerleading and the debate team; she was dead set on going to a prestigious college so she took every college course that the school offered and when the time came was probably going to graduate with her associates degree. I didn’t give a shit about any of that stuff and their ability to succeed while I could barely control my impulses irritated every nerve in my body.

I took a hit from my pipe and set it back down on my nightstand as I stood up for the first time in hours. I did a quick stretch and grabbed the empty wine bottle that was next to the pipe and bolted out the door; time for round two. I ran up the stairs, the basement door was already wide open so there was nothing there to stop my running, I took a sharp left and darted into the empty kitchen. A smile made its way to my lips as I tossed the empty bottle into the bin and went to pick out another one; it felt good to be alone. My eyes scanned the large wine selection that hung up on a large rack against the wall by the fridge, my mom was pretty OCD when it came to her wines, so they were organized by country and price. I blame my parents for turning me into a wine snob, so my obvious choice was to go towards the expensive route as I grabbed a bottle of Petrus. It was in the highest row, which told me that it was something French; my mom would probably be very mad at me for drinking it, but who knew when the hell she would be coming back. I ripped the seal and picked up the wine opener that I had left sitting out and shoved it into the cork, twisting and turning until I had lodged it in deep enough. I pulled down the arms of the wine opener which pulled the cork right out and smiled as the aroma hit my nose.

I brought the bottle up to my lips and took a long drink, letting out a cough as a loud knock on the back door made me jump. I set the wine down as I kept coughing, turning around and running towards the door, trying to peek through the blinds but a second knock erupted making me swing the door open. My jaw hung open: Mr. Strong stood there with disheveled hair and a grin on his face as he looked over the exposed parts of my body, “I’ve been knocking at the front door for fifteen minutes.”

“Uh,” I looked into his eyes with no idea what to say to him, “I was in the basement,” I spat out lamely.

He chuckled, “Are you going to invite me in?”

I turned on my heel and walked back towards my bottle of wine—this was my house and I could do what I want—bringing it up to my lips hastily and taking a long drink. I pulled it away and let out a breath, looking up at him and waiting. He walked towards me abruptly, catching me off guard as he snatched the bottle of wine out of my hand. His eyes inspected the label as he smirked, “Pomerol; 1966.”

He brought the bottle up to his nose and took a whiff, “This stuff is older than you are,” He said and gulped some down.

“Isn’t wine meant to be sipped?”

He shrugged as he kept on glugging, “I’m just following your example,” He said with a small smile, holding the bottle back out to me.

I was already buzzed from the first bottle I finished off today, but this one was being drank a lot more quickly; I needed to be in the proper state to have the balls to have this conversation. I set the wine bottle back down and leaned against the counter, looking up at Mr. Strong with a curious glisten in my eyes, “So... Why are you here?”

He held out a book to me, “You never got to take this on Friday and you weren’t in class today...” I took the book from his hands, glancing over the cover [i][u]One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest[/i][/u] by Ken Kesey, “The rest of the class is reading over something else, but for you I picked this one because I knew it would keep your interest.”

I stared at the book, I had never read it before or seen the movie but I knew that my father loved it and the DVD had to be packed up in a box somewhere. I set the book on the counter, “You came all the way over here to give me a book?”

“I had a feeling that I wouldn’t be seeing you in class any time soon,” He ran a hand through his hair.

“We should talk about—Uhhh,” He looked to the ground. “What happened the other day?”

My cheeks flushed red, “I’m really sorry about that...” I looked up at him, feeling as small as ever as my cloud of shame hung above my head, “If I’m being completely honest...”

I trailed off as his eyes locked on mine, “I was really, really high and I just started smoking a few months ago so sometimes—”

“It’s fine, Alex, we all say stupid shit when we are stoned,” He chuckled.

The small smile left his lips as he kept talking, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I am your teacher and that is not okay. Alex, you’re just a kid, you do realize why we could never do this right?”

“I know it was inappropriate Mr. Strong, and I am sorry for that.” My words were sincere, but I still had to defend myself, “But... I’m eighteen and I am not a kid—I could legally do porn if I wanted to.”

“I understand that,” He sighed, “I am ten years older than you. You are my student for fuck’s sake; I could go to prison—this cannot happen.”

I rolled my eyes, he was starting to piss me off, “We are both adults; we aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“I’m your teacher.”

The thousand-dollar wine was coursing through my veins as I popped the million dollar question, “But if you weren’t my teacher?”

He stayed silent, his eyes fixated on a spot on the wall behind my head. I let out a breath of relief as he stepped closer to me, reaching for the wine that was on the counter, “I’ll admit that it has been the only thing I have been thinking about these last few days...” He trailed off, tilting the bottle up and taking a sip before setting it back down, “How I feel doesn't change anything; you are still my student."

“Not for much longer,” I added, “I graduate in a couple of months.”

“Well, maybe when that time comes we will see what happens—”

“It’s all the same shit,” I snapped, pushing his hand away with a frown.

“It isn’t though, because in three months I won’t have to risk my career for some little girl with daddy issues,” He brought his hands up and buried his face, “Fuck!”

“Sorry—I didn’t mean that,” He said in a much lower voice as he pulled his hands away to reveal his face; “I just don’t want to ruin any of our lives.”

I looked up at him, giving him my best pouty face accompanied by big, sad eyes, “I get it; you don’t think I’m sexy.”

The anxiousness left him as he let out a loud laugh, “Do you really think we would be having this conversa—Alex, you are so fucking intriguing to me I don’t know what I am going to do.”

He smirked, “The part that baffles me—” He paused mid-sentence to let his eyes dart around every inch of me before shaking his head with a small smile; “What kind of deranged girl would say something so filthy and inappropriate to their teacher?”

My cheeks heated up as I stared into his eyes with no response, “I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it,” He added playfully.

My only viable option was to try and seduce him or I was just drunk; I reached up, tucking my fingers into my bandeau and pulling it down to flash him my breasts. He stared at my exposed chest and let out a breath as I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around his neck. I buried my face in his chest and for a moment he gave in and held me. I smirked as I bit down on his nipple through the fabric of his shirt, he gripped onto my wrists and ripped my arms off of him, moving me back two feet. His eyes landed on mine, “Stop it.”

I snickered at the angry expression on his face, “You sure,” I asked as I flipped my hair behind my shoulders, thrusting my chest into the air, “They’re really soft.”

I cupped my breasts, one in each hand and squeezed, “And it’s like a perfect handful; you should feel them.” I said as I jumped around, holding my tits in my hands, making sure to jiggle them directly in front of his face—my parents would be so proud.

He walked over to me, his eyes locked on mine and his lips in a tight line. He reached down, grabbing my bandeau and pulling it up to cover me. He finally let out a breath, “Was that supposed to crack me or something?”

I shrugged making him laugh, “They’re just boobs, Alex. I’ve seen plenty...”

I walked towards him and set my hand on the buckle of his belt, “The boner in your pants seems to be telling a different story.”

I slid my hand down over the bulge, feeling him shiver beneath me as I felt him grow a little harder, “Alex. Stop—we can’t,” He grabbed my hand in his and pulled it away.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, staring down at my feel with a frown, “I’m a little drunk.”

He took a step closer to me and sighed, bringing his hand up to my neck, and tracing his finger up to my chin. He swopped his hand, lifting my head so I had no choice but to look at him, “Alexis. I like you—I really do—you’re something different,” He sighed as he brushed a piece of hair behind my ear, “but I am your teacher.”

I reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling it down from my face and lacing our fingers together, “You’re really going to need a better excuse then that.”

My words came out muffled as I smashed my lips against his and forced my tongue into his mouth; now I just wanted to make him angry. He let go of my hand and trailed his fingers up to my bare waist, pulling me into him as he kissed me harder. I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting out a squeal as he moved both hands to my hips and lifted me off the ground. He set me down on the kitchen counter and wrapped both arms tightly around my waist, yanking me towards him aggressively as he deepened the kiss. I locked my legs around his abdomen and gripped onto his shoulders, digging my nails into his T-shirt.

He pulled away and took a few steps back, running both hands through his hair and throwing his head back, “Fuck.”

He dropped his hands to his sides and looked back up at me, “Fuck.” He cursed again and moved towards me, “You are going to be the death of me,” He whispered as he brought his mouth back to mine.