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  Without further adieu, here's this week's chapter.

  Kyle

  Per an agreement we’d reached st night, signatoried by both of us via a sticky-note that we attached to my bare-back, Rose woke me up with a blowjob on her first day back to work. It was a helluva sensation, a warm and soft hole wrapped around my morning wood, tongue swirling about the shaft and teeth rimming around my foreskin. The tingling, groaning ecstacy ripped me from slumbernd and into the waking world. Pulling me back to life by my cock, as my eyes opened and I remembered our deal. I raked my hands through Rose’s hair beneath the covers of our bed (she’d all but officially moved into my room at this point) and pushed her head forward, forward, forward, until the entirety of my cock was down her throat. And she just kept sucking and sucking and sucking, dedicated and thorough and almost reverent in her service to me. I moved my hands down to her shoulders and started massaging them, while my foot traced up her inner leg and caressed her thigh as pressure began to build up inside me.

  “Rose,” I murmured. “Rose, Princess, I’m about to-”

  I didn’t get to finish the sentence before I exploded into her mouth, groaning with pleasure as every nerve ending between my legs electrified with raw bliss.

  “Don’t forget to swallow,” I uttered, but that proved unnecessary: she was already in the process of drinking every st drop up and licking the remnants off of my cock.

  Finally, she poked her head up from under the covers and licked the sticky white remnants off of her lips. She smiled at me with hooded eyes and said in a sultry, husky voice, “Good morning, lover.”

  “Good morning to you too,” I said, then went straight for her tits.

  I tweaked her nipple and she squeaked with joy, then I mashed breasts together before I brought my mouth around one of them and started sucking.

  She threw her head back and groaned while I worked her nipple, one of my hands finding her face and finagling my fingers into her mouth so she could resume one of her favorite activities. My other hand reached between her legs and began stroking her clit. Her moans got louder and louder as I kept pinching her groin. It was just a clit, really; even responded in basically the same ways. Cum began to leak out of the head, little by little, and I caught it all in my hands and brought it to her mouth.

  “Got you a second helping,” I said.

  Her only response was a hungry moan before she began licking her own cum off of my fingers, her back arching while I resumed motorboating her and using my remaining hand to keep stroking her. I coaxed out a bit more cum and fed it to her, watching with delight as she pped it up. She’d been telling the truth on our bar-crawl back on that fateful night in January: this tight little bod of hers could definitely pack ‘em away.

  Finally, I pressed my forehead to hers and kissed her. “Good morning, princess.”

  “Good morning, good morning to you,” she purred. “How was that for a wakeup call?”

  “Pretty fucking great,” I said. “How was that for breakfast in bed?”

  “Heavenly.”

  “As good as your fantasises?”

  “A million times better.”

  I kissed her again, my tongue feeling inside her mouth where my cock had been not twenty minutes prior. “Good,” I said into her mouth. “Maybe we can make it a regur thing.”

  “I’d like that very much,” she said, giving my lower lip a nibble. “God, I wish we could do this all day.”

  “Me too,” I said. “As, it is a Monday.”

  “Dammit,” she pouted as she pulled the covers off of us. She cracked her neck and said, “I should probably shower.”

  “Don’t forget to brush your teeth!” I called after her while staring at her ass. God dammit, that ass. Fucking spectacur.

  “Not until after breakfast!” she responded with a ugh.

  “Fair enough,” I said.

  ***

  Rose paced up and down our living room, the tight bck pencil skirt and modest heels making her million dolr ass look somehow even more expensive. Could bounce a quarter off that thing, I swear. I’d had breakfast ready by the time she was out of the shower. She’d been a little disappointed, because I know she loved cooking for me, but I figured she could use a morning off from that particur duty, given what day it was.

  First day in the office as herself.

  Besides, she hadn’t compined too much about the tall gss of orange juice and the pte of cheesy eggs (figured she could use some throat comfort after what we’d done at sunrise) and sausage (it was her favorite, after all).

  “Are you sure I look okay?” she asked.

  I rolled my eyes, albeit with considerable affection. “Yes. If you looked any more okay, I’d be in the process of ruining your makeup right now. And probably tearing off all your clothes.”

  She gave a pyful gasp and brought a hand to her mouth. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  I snorted. “Wanna bet?”

  “No, because I’m sure I’d lose,” she giggled. “I lose all our games.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “You wouldn’t?” she quirked an eyebrow.

  “You won our most important game, didn’t you?” I said, fiddling with the tie around my neck.

  She walked over to me, taking the tie in hand and working it into a knot. “What are you talking about? You obviously won that one.”

  “Did I?”

  “You got me to admit I’m a girl,” she said, tightening the tie while I stared down her cleavage. God, those things just kept getting bigger and bigger- fucking mesmerizing. “Pretty sure that was the object of the game.”

  I fingered a curling red lock tumbling near my eyeline. “Yeah, but you got me to clean.”

  She giggled. Ah, now that was some music right there. “I did, yeah.”

  “And besides, you got the other thing you wanted.”

  “Oh?”

  “You wanted me to be happy,” I said, as she finished with my tie and pulled my face close to hers. I cupped her cheeks and looked into her eyes, unblinking. “And I’ve never been happier, Briar Rose.”

  She bit her lower lip, marking the bottom of her front teeth with crimson lipstick. “Then I guess we both won.”

  “Guess so,” I said.

  The ring was in my pocket. I wanted to reach for it. I wanted to put it on her finger. I knew she would say yes. The way we both talked about us getting engaged, we practically already were. Just hadn’t made it official yet.

  But this wasn’t the moment to make it official. When it happened, I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to give this woman the full on fairy tale proposal she deserved. And I wanted to be able to ruin her makeup and tear off her clothes and fuck her brains out afterwards.

  So instead, I settled for a kiss. And a boob-squeeze. Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, and fuck, those were some magnificent boobs.

  “Honk,” Rose said while I groped her.

  “Goddammit,” I groaned and chuckled at the same time. “Fucking gremlin.”

  “Oh please, you love me.”

  “Damn right I do.”

  ***

  I dropped Rose off in front of her office and kissed her good-bye before driving off towards my own workpce. I was locked in for a full day of substituting and coaching, and after that I’d pick her up and we’d go home. To our home. She was gonna talk to Violetta about not having to be on the road so much anymore, though she suspected she’d probably have at least a few more trips this year before she could be moved into a full-time in-office position.

  Which in turn, meant I’d be able to use one of those trips as a time to pn the perfect proposal. No rushing this time. No impulse-decisions. I’d go with the flow and execute the perfect py to take us all the way to the endzone.

  And hell, if one of the trips was over the summer, I could easily just go with her. If it was somewhere suitably romantic, perhaps…

  The perfect py in the perfect stadium for the perfect girl. Fuck yeah. A perfect moment, crystalized in both our memories forevermore.

  Which made me wonder… Was there a specific moment? One where the shift had happened, where she’d gone from someone I cared for to someone I truly loved? The first time she’d pulled the decoy trick on me at the coffee shop, that was definitely when it became a conscious thing for me, when it became impossible to deny that I was into her. That my feelings were more than just ptonic and that they went beyond simple lust. That this was someone whom I’d always be surprised by, and that I looked forward to each and every twist and turn.

  Was it when I first saw her on the other side of that webcam? I’d recognized her pretty quickly, and the ‘clean apartment’ comment clinched it, but I’d admitted even then that Rose made for a pretty girl. That was when the physical attraction started, definitely, but a part of me looked back and thought it went even further.

  Was it when we’d first moved in together, and she’d spent the entire unpacking process singing along to old showtunes, flitting about like she walked on air while I watched this normally stoic, reserved, muted person come alive with color and song? Even then I’d noted that she only sang along to the girls’ parts of the songs, only did the girls’ dance moves.

  Was it when we’d been isoted together during a snowstorm, huddled under a bnket on the couch while the firepce crackled with heat and we both tried to keep each other warm? That was the first time I’d gotten a glimpse at what a cuddle-bug she was, the way she would just cling to me without warning and without end. There’d been a part of me that had found it weird, but I’d rolled with it because I was cold too and O’Neil was just a weird person. And so was I. That was probably part of why I kept letting her rest her head on my shoulder or my p, why I kept putting my arm around her when we watched TV together, why I would sometimes miss the feeling of her pressed against me when she was away. We were both weird. But we could be weird together.

  Was it that office party I’d gone to with her, where we’d gotten drunk and decided to indulge in some physical comedy and she couldn’t stop freaking giggling the whole time? That was the first time I’d heard her ugh like that, and I’d decided right then and there it was my favorite sound in the world. It was her music, the song that always hummed in the background when I was near her. It was a song I could always dance to.

  Was it our first dance? After it happened, I thought about it all night. And the lessons quickly became the highlight of my week.

  Or was it when we first met, that night at the hockey game, and she’d pulled me, a complete stranger, out of a bad mood for no reason other than that it felt like the right thing to do? Because she’d proved what kind of person she was at that moment. The kind who’d go out of her way to help people. To make them happy.

  And, occasional frustrations and insanity notwithstanding, she made me very happy. Had done little but that since she’d first pranced into my life.

  Maybe that was just it, then. There wasn’t just one single moment. It was all of them. Every step on the path that led to now. To us. I’d relished each moment like I’d never known joy like this, joy like her, before then. Or maybe it was love at first sight, and I just hadn’t realized it until recently. Who could say? I sure couldn’t. All I knew was that my life changed forever that night we met. All I knew was I’d had it bad for a very long time, and each moment with her since that night had solidified that a little more. She was my Rose, and I’d watched her bloom little by little for over seven years. And dammit, I’d loved every second of it.

  Finally, though, I arrived at work and was forced to pull myself out of my head. I could daydream about my girlfriend more ter; right now I had to earn a living. Yeah, it wasn’t the best job in the world, but I still liked it well-enough, and the arrangement with Rose had helped me put money away little by little. I was still a ways off from being able to open my gym, but I was getting there one step at a time.

  I squeaked into a parking spot just in time to only be a few minutes te, but as I walked into the main building, my phone dinged.

  My boss wanted to see me in his office.

  Generally not a good sign, that.

  Up three flights of stairs I went, heart a-thunder inside my chest until I reached Emerson Cyton’s office and opened the door.

  Emerson Cyton, head of the substitute teaching pool and the math department, was a rge man in every sense of the word. Large frame, rge hands, rge eyes, rge hair, rge voice. He was an older white man who’s bushy white hair was twice the size of his already-enormous head. “KYLE,” he procimed as I stepped inside. Procimed, not said. He didn’t say things. He announced them. He sat in a beige office far too small for him alone let alone for the both of us, behind a pin steel desk devoid of photos or mementos.

  “Sir,” I said, sitting in the beanbag chair on the floor in front of his desk. Most people compined about the beanbag chair, but given my sheer bulk I was just grateful for something that mostly fit. “Is everything alright?”

  “I’M AFRAID NOT, MY BOY.”

  “What’s wrong?” I said, looking up at the mountain range of a man.

  “I’M AFRAID WE’RE GOING TO HAVE TO ASK YOU TO STEP AWAY FROM WORK FOR A WHILE.”

  “Did the teacher I’m covering for wind up making it today after all?” I asked.

  “NO, I’M AFRAID IT’S A BIT MORE SERIOUS THAN THAT. I’M AFRAID WE’RE GOING TO HAVE TO PUT YOU ON A LEAVE OF ABSENCE FROM BOTH SUBSTITUTING AND COACHING.”

  My brow creased as I shot up onto my feet. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I’M AFRAID-”

  “Yes, sir, you’re very afraid, I got that,” I snapped.

  “I’M AFRAID I DON’T LIKE YOUR TONE, KYLE,” he cautioned me.

  I winced. “Right. Sorry. Sir. I just… Why is this happening? And more importantly, why is this happening right before pyoffs are due to start?”

  Mr. Cyton licked his lips and gnashed his teeth together, drumming his penny roll fingers on the steel surface of his desk.

  I breathed in and out, in and out, in and out, wracking my brain for the right py to run. Probably best to air on the side of caution here. I had a pretty cushy arrangement at Overton. I wasn’t under any illusions elsewise. I wanted to keep this job. It wasn’t something I wanted to do forever, but it also wasn’t something I was exactly ready to give up. “Sir. Respectfully, I’ve been working here for five years. I show up on time, and I get results. The students like me, and so do the other teachers. And if I’ve done something wrong, I want to know how to fix it. It’s a point of personal pride. Please, sir-”

  “I’M AFRAID THAT… IT ISN’T YOUR FAULT, KYLE. NOT AT ALL.”

  “Then, once again, and with all due respect: what’s the problem here?”

  “I’M AFRAID WE’VE BEEN RECEIVING SOME PRESSURE- SOME CONSIDERABLE PRESSURE, MIND YOU- FROM ONE OF OUR ALUMNI REGARDING YOUR CONTINUED EMPLOYMENT.”

  My eyes narrowed. My fists gathered. And the pybook spontaneously combusted. “Is that so? Well, has it been pointed out that I was recommended for this job by one of your alumni? From a member of the O’Neil family, no less?”

  That should have been enough right there to have gotten me a raise. O’Neil’s had been attending Overton since before the Civil War; their word carried weight around here. Unfortunately, I had a sneaking suspicion about who this alumni exerting ‘considerable pressure’ was. Because when I say O’Neil’s had always come here, I mean every O’Neil who was able to. And given this pce went co-ed after World War II…

  “I’M AFRAID THAT THIS ALUMNI IS… OF GREATER INFLUENCE THAN THE ONE WHO HELPED YOU COME INTO OUR EMPLOY.”

  “You mean she donates more?”

  “I’M AFRAID… SO, YES.”

  “Yeah, I figured as much,” I growled. “Am I still going to have a job next year?”

  “I’M AFRAID I DO NOT KNOW,” Emerson uttered. “I’M SORRY, KYLE. IF IT WERE UP TO ME-”

  “Am I at least still getting paid?”

  “I’M AFRAID… NOT.”

  “Gotcha,” I said, turning around to leave. “Well, I hope you realize I’m gonna wyer up if this goes any further than a leave of absence.”

  “I’M AFRAID YOU WILL NEED A VERY GOOD LAWYER, KYLE,” Emerson said. “BUT I WISH YOU THE BEST OF LUCK.”

  He offered me a handshake, and, swallowing pride that tasted like bile, I shook. I left the most frightened man in the world in his office and jammed my trembling hands into my jacket pocket as I stalked out into the humid air and clear skies of the first day of May.

  And then, I saw her. Standing outside the front gate, just across the street. Sarah O’Neil-Vasquez, staring me down, all cold fury. I ran out the gate as fast as I could, nearly dashed across the street, only to be stopped by oncoming traffic.

  “Hi Kyle,” Sarah shouted over the traffic as I gred at her from across the way. “How’s the cheap substitute treating you?”

  “The fuck is wrong with you, Sarah?!” I screamed.

  “Me? Absolutely nothing. You and my brother, though… There’s a lot there that needs fixing. Mom and I thought this would be a good pce to start. Come talk to me when you’ve gotten tired of having to py pretend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m te for a very important meeting. Some of us have real jobs, after all.”

  The traffic cleared, and the light gave the walk signal, but Sarah turned and headed down the street. I wanted to chase after her, give her a piece of my mind, but that was when a single word howled inside my mind alongside a note of pure, unadulterated terror.

  Rose.

  I turned around and ran towards the parking lot, hurrying into my car and jetting across town in the direction of Rose’s office, terrified of what, of who, I would find there making life hell for the woman I loved.