***The following is the first installment in a series about the collaboration between a neglected housewife and a successful author to create a series of experiences to be used as inspiration for an erotic romance novel. I plan to add a minimum of seven more chapters in the weeks and months ahead. This installment contains more than it's fair share of exposition that I deemed necessary to introduce the main characters and the circumstances under which their partnership began. I tried to add in spice along the way to liven up the narrative while still adequately setting up the series.***
The boy couldn't believe his ears. Who was this stranger and why did they care who he was fucking or why?
"My employer's offer is final," said the slightly overweight, greying man.
"I...I don't understand. Why?" the boy stammered.
"It doesn't matter why, kid. That has nothing to do with you. The only thing you need to know is that you have an opportunity to leave here with ten thousand dollars in your passenger seat. It's that clear-cut. You can use that money to wine and dine and bed as many sorority girls as your heart desires. That's what nineteen year olds are supposed to do ya know."
They boy shook his head in disbelief. It was all so surreal. The man making him the offer was right. It was pretty damned clear-cut. "And all I have to do is never see her again?"
"That's all," the man nodded, "You're in the grocery store and you see her- walk down the next aisle. You're at the movies and she comes in- find something else to do. No contact. And, most importantly, no explanation as to why."
"What am I supposed to tell her?" the boy muttered incredulously, "she's in love with me."
"Kid, that just ain't so. Go live your life. Be a kid. Enjoy college. Just never see her again."
The text conversation that ensued the next evening confirmed the hired man's report that the boy had accepted the money and the terms, though Leanne nor her best friend had any idea the meeting had ever taken place.
L: Get ready for this shit
J:?
L: Psycho says she doesn't want to see me anymore.
J: Why?
L: He says he needs to focus on school and live the "typical college experience"
J: That's good news, right?
L: I mean...yeah...it's just random. Two days ago he's going on and on about going away together, and now he never wants to see me again? Weird.
J: Aren't you relieved? You refer to the kid as "crazy" after all.
L: I am relieved lol It's just that I think I just got dumped by my nineteen year old former student. Kinda a blow to the ego, ya know?
J: You'll find a new one in no time. Homecoming is a smorgasbord I hear.
L: Oh fuck you lol No more students. Never again.
Leanne laid in her bathtub, scrolling through social media, and waiting for the snoring to start echoing from her bed. If she lay there long enough her husband would be asleep and she wouldn't need to feign any affection or intimacy. The day had been long enough without having to fake it with Sam.
After a while, she laid her phone on the floor beside the tub before sinking farther down into the soapy water. Her ample breasts broke through the layer of bubbles and floated on the bathwater in clear sight. What a sight she was, too. At thirty-two she still had it and she knew it. Her hips had bared a child whom she loved with all her heart, but they still flared into her midsection in a way that drew attention all over town. Attention she craved. Attention she got from seemingly every man she knew- except for Sam, whose snoring had just begun in their bed. She hated herself for going outside their marriage, or so she told herself, but a woman like Leanne had needs, and Sam seemed disinterested in even noticing- much less fulfilling them.
And so, Leanne had cuckolded her husband in the most cliché way imaginable. The curvaceous, beautiful teacher with a kind smile and smoky eyes had climbed into bed with a former student a mere seven weeks after he'd graduated. Bed wasn't exactly accurate, though. Typically it was the back of her SUV where they'd climbed, having to avoid her daughter's car seat while they ravaged each other in the darkness.
It was harmless fun. He was headed off to the state university where he'd find some PYT to steal his heart and his chiseled body, and she'd go back to domestic anything-other-than-bliss. Except he didn't find his PYT. He didn't even look. Instead he became more and more obsessed with his own personal Mrs. Robinson. He'd dreamt of seeing what was under his gym teacher's sweats, but never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that he'd one day get to rip them off and bury his cock inside her. Now that he had, though, he had no interest in giving her up. No girl in any of his classes to hold a candle to his
woman. His woman.
Technically she wasn't his. Not yet. But that piece of shit Sam was no real problem. He could keep the kid for all Sam cared, but Leanne was his.
Leanne started to pick up on the boy's growing obsession after more than a few warning signs, but by that point she felt trapped. The kid revealed himself to be more unstable by the day. She cursed herself for creating the situation, but what could be do now? If she broke things off with the boy, she was confident he would at least tell Sam. That was the best case scenario. She feared he might try to do more. So, week after week, she moaned in empty parking lots and enjoyed the orgasms she'd craved for years, despite the fact that they came from a boy she no longer saw as stable. The situation was unsustainable- she knew that much. Yet there seemed to be no way out that didn't involve her life in shambles. And now, for reasons passing understanding, it was behind her.
Reception near her school was shotty at best on most days, so it wasn't unusual for to receive a deluge of missed calls, voicemails, and texts on her way home once she'd driven a mile up the road where the reception was better. This day was no different. Mixed in with the text from her husband asking about dinner and a half dozen other texts from JD and other friends, was a notification for a voicemail from a blocked number. Odd. She tapped the icon and the message began to play over the Bluetooth in her car.
"Hello, Leanne... or should I say
Muse?"
it began. The voice wasn't menacing; in fact, the deep baritone was quite pleasant, but his words, which he let hang in the air for a moment, turned Leanne's face ashen. Her eyes darted to the stereo as though there was something to be seen from where the voice came.
The voice continued, "A mutual acquaintance of ours seems quite taken with you, and now that I've found you I can see why. He also proved right about your former student. That boy seems...off-tilt...and his behavior was starting to become unacceptable. You must have been worrying yourself sick trying to figure out what to do. I was more than happy to resolve that headache for you. We'll discuss that more this evening when I call at nine-thirty. In the meantime, let's keep this between us. No need for our friend or anyone else to know about our interactions. Remember, Leanne, nine-thirty." The line went silent.
Leanne's knuckles were as white as her normally tanned face as she gripped the steering wheel. Her mind was somehow whirling in circles and completely blank. She pulled into her driveway ten minutes later without any memory of her drive across the winding roads between school and her home. For a long while she sat in the blackness of her garage in complete silence, staring straight ahead but not looking at a thing. "Mommy?" a voice called out, "are you coming in?" Her son's voice broke her trance, but did nothing for the fog in her mind. She smiled and hugged him as she walked through the door. Mommy mode is a strong force. It can overpower hunger, sickness, anger and a million other distractions, but not after a call like that. She did her best to fake it and remain engaged throughout the hours that followed. Homework led to dinner, which led to bath time before the first half of a movie and then bedtime. At one point she slipped away to call her best friend. She was furious at him, and wasn't sure how much she could keep her voice and tone in check with little ears around.
What had he said to this mystery caller? How could he tell this man her phone number? "Taken care of the boy?" What the fuck did that mean?
Fear of being overheard wasn't the ultimate factor that kept her from calling, though. The voice on the phone had said not to tell JD. She couldn't explain why, but she chose to acquiesce to the instruction.
Sam was playing poker down the street and her son, Liam, was sound asleep by nine. For thirty minutes she paced, then sat motionless, then paced again. There was nothing she could do. The previous two weeks, the ones since it had become clear that her affair was spiraling out of control, had left her paralyzed with anxiety. That worry seemed tedious now. Whoever that man was, whatever he wanted, and her powerlessness do anything but wait for him to call was crushing.
At 09:30:01 her phone finally rang. A form of relief washed over her. Whatever he might say had to be better than the way she'd felt since the voicemail had ended. Knowing what he wanted had to be better than the uncertainty of being left in the dark. Leanne inhaled deeply and set her face into a granite scowl. It was time to stop waiting on the back foot, she told herself. The moment she accepted the call she launched into a rapid-fire torrent of questions- not bothering to wait for an answer to any of them. At least they were out of her head and out in the open.
