I can fucking hardly stand it when I have to use one at school and there is no goddamn way I’m doing that shit unless I have to.
Zach
I sit back in my chair as I read his words. My first reaction is to respond and tell him to just grow up and deal with it. Cleaning a public bathroom, while pretty gross, is a small price to pay in exchange for not winding up in a more serious place. I’m pissed off too. We had so many talks, and I poured my heart and soul into every single one of them, about him getting his act together and putting more effort into his schooling. And where he wanted to be in a few years. He could do great things. We set up a plan together and he promised that he’d do better.
But then I remember all the things he’s gone through and my anger subsides.
Zach was dealt some rough cards coming into this world. He had an abusive father who beat him regularly before he abandons him, leaving him with a mother who was strung out on drugs and let her son live in absolute squalor, resulting in his germaphobia. He’s just a kid in so many ways.
I could see the pain in his eyes every day that he came into my office, the hurt that haunted him. Seeing that tore at my heart. No child should have to go through what he went through.
I let out a soft sigh as I position my fingers over the keyboard. I can’t be angry with him, that’s not going to help him. Without someone in his life that shows that they care about him, he might as well give up. I can’t let that happen. No matter what bad thing he’s done, I have to offer what help I can give. I refuse to give up on him and I refuse to let him give up on himself.
But I can’t enable him either.
Blowing my bangs out of my eyes, my fingers fly across the keys as I type my response.
From: Ms. Wade
To: Zach White
Zach,
I’m so very sorry to hear that you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble, but I did warn you that if you kept on your current path, that something like this might happen. I’m not going to lie and say I’m not disappointed. I’m pissed actually. I put a lot of time and effort into trying to help you and it doesn’t look like it stuck with you. I hope that you’re able to prove me wrong.
I understand why you don’t want to have to clean public bathrooms, given your past with your mother.
And I will try my best to figure out the options that are available to you… but only if you tell me what you did and why. I want to help you, but I’m not going to let you walk over me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what exactly you’ve been caught doing. I’m available to talk and work on the plan we’ve set for you. This is yet another obstacle that I know you’ll overcome. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Ms. Wade
I sigh again as I press send. My heart hurts hating the fact that I can’t give him an easy out. I can’t just pluck him from where he is now and move him somewhere better, where he’s surrounded by encouragement and more opportunities. This very situation is going to close even more doors for him, and I hate that simple fact. He’s just made it harder on himself.
I hate that the kid is in this predicament and I feel really bad for being tough with him, but I can’t let him off easy. He can’t come asking for my help and then try to gloss over the crime he committed. I hope he does the right thing and comes clean. I really like him and want to see him do something with his life, not end up a deadbeat father, or a druggy like his mom, living a life of crime.
Helping troubled students like Zach gives my life meaning, and it means a lot to me. There are times where I wish I could just wave my hand and change all of their lives for the better. Ha, if only such magic existed. The world would be a much better place. But sometimes...I just have to admit…
You can’t help them all. They need to want to change. And I don’t know if Zach really does or not.
Ugh. Just thinking about how helpless I feel in the moment, makes me depressed. I need to try to write, get my mind off this.
After making a mental note to check my email for his response later, I go back to my Word document. For the next five minutes I sit there looking at the blinking cursor trying to think of what to write. Nothing comes to me. It’s frustrating. I have so much material from the previous day, yet I can’t write a single word. Seriously, my fingers should be flying across the keys like road runner, filling the screen with steamy paragraphs that would have even the most chaste woman wanting to go on a date with Mr. Rabbit.
I let out a frustrated sigh.
I guess I’m just not in the mood to write anymore.
Sighing again, I get up from my desk and go over to my bookshelves and began rummaging through my erotic romance sections. There’s nothing like a good book to pull me out of a slump. I grab one with a shirtless hot guy with six pack abs, on the cover, entitled Deep Inside. I already know what I’m getting with such a title and I’m hoping it’s just what I need to forget about my depressing work. Some days are hard. But it makes the good days that much better.
I settle down in my favorite recliner and begin reading. After a couple of paragraphs, I decide that I need something hotter. I skip straight to the sex scene, but after several paragraphs of that, I find my mind wandering. The words are filled with passion, but I don’t feel any of it. They seem dry. Empty. It doesn’t even begin to compare to...
My mind wanders back to my masked Sir that I submitted to the day before, and the sadness I feel falls away. Images of how he handled my body and how he got me off flash before my eyes. A soft moan escaping my lips.
God, it was so hot, so incredibly intense. Just thinking about it now, leaves me breathless. The intensity of my orgasm and how he controlled me made me call out the safe word without even realizing it.
Lollipop.
I huff out a little giggle at the word. I don’t know what I was thinking when I told him that I wanted it to be that. Maybe I thought it was cute. He didn’t look like he thought it was, but in the end, he didn’t care. He was more concerned with my body and pushing me to my limits.
I think I pissed him off by saying it. But I couldn’t help myself. I was overwhelmed.
One thing that keeps bothering me though, is that he didn’t show any commitment to me. He didn’t ask for my number or show any interest in following me from the club. He let me leave without mentioning anything. Other than not wearing underwear next time. It’s not like that’s a normal occurrence. I’m sure there are rules against men following a woman from the club, but still would have made me feel special if he’d asked me for more. I sure as fuck want more.
I’m curious to see where this goes. I’ve read all about BDSM and I’ve researched master and slave relationships. I figure that I can at least try this if he pursues me, knowing the only way I’ll really understand a M/s relationship is if I live it. My knowledge from reading about it makes me feel confident that I can handle it. It’s a win-win relationship for me. I get to explore this dark sexual world and further my research for my book.
Still, the forbidden and dark aspects keep me from committing fully. Thank fuck for Club X.
A knock on the door pulls me out of my reverie. Clearing my throat, I get up to see what it is. The postal truck is driving off when I open the door and down at my feet there’s a large parcel sitting on my front steps, a beautiful white box with a white bow tied around it. Furrowing my brow with curiosity, I pick it up, it’s rather light for its size, and take it inside, setting it down on the kitchen table.