Page 16 of Payback, Penelope

“Are you ok, ma’am?” The young man from earlier at the front desk asks, his expression vacillating between being elated to see me again and sympathy at my obvious distress.Ma’am. He’s one person who knows I’m nowhere close to looking like I belong in his generation.Ugh.

“Yeah. Thanks.” I give him a little wave and push through the glass door outside, relieved to see Mr. Andrews has left, then wait on a nearby bench for an Uber driver to take me home. This time, my driver is a woman around my age, and I take the front passenger seat since there are two car seats buckled in the back of her massive SUV.

She talks a mile a minute about all things baby-related and being a stay-at-home-mom, taking on a side hustle due to the ever-increasing cost of formula. I don’t have to say a word as she carries the conversation the whole drive, continually sipping what I suspect is a dangerous amount of caffeine from her huge, bright pink tumbler on her lap until we turn onto my street.

Taking what seems to be her first breath, she asks me a question and actually gives me space to answer. “So, do you have any kids of your own?”

“No,” I answer miserably, hanging my head in my hands as I start crying my heart out. She can’t reverse out of my driveway fast enough once I climb out of her SUV. My heart sinks further when I step into my dark, silent house. No Jacob. No baby. And only crumbs left of my sanity.

Jacob

My first day as an official teacher shaping the young minds of our future can only be described as a goddamn train wreck. I struggle to get through the syllabus, the students casting me dubious and worried glances. One even asks me if he needs to go get the nurse because I keep sucking in air and grimacing every time I shift in my chair, another bag of fresh ice pilfered from the cafeteria pressed to my crotch under the desk where the students can’t see.

Penelope avoids me at all costs, the same as I do her. I know I hurt her when I snuck out of her house and then refused to open my door when she showed up at my apartment looking like a fertile goddess ready for me to bend her over and breed her. But I couldn’t let her in, even though my heart begged me to. I can’t even bring myself to explain to herwhybecause the barest glimpse of her in the hallway makes my cock harden in the baggiest pair of slacks I own, which is one—disgusting since I’m surrounded by students, and it would likely land me in prison, painted as a pervert. And two—extraordinarily painful.Each brush of my zipper threatens to take me out and send me to my knees.

So I haul ass out of my classroom when the last bell rings, ignoring students and teachers alike as I shove my way through the crowded hallways. I want to die when I catch Penelope’s downhearted expression in the reflection of the school’s glass front doors before they slide open.

I’m sorry, Mama.

* * *

The next day, Penelope changes tactics. I look up from my morning cup of coffee as I stir in powdered creamer in the teacher’s lounge to find myself alone with her. She’s in a tight, red button-up blouse and the hip-hugging black skirt she wore last week. She’s ditched the heels for a pair of shiny red sandals that are just as sexy. I want to kneel before her and slip them off her feet, kiss her from her cute toes with their white-toe nail polish up to her pussy that’s begging to be filled with my cum.

I hold back a hiss as my dick springs to life, but I let it lose when she unfastens the top two buttons of her blouse, exposing a sliver of her white bra plumping up her tits that I want to bury my face in. She rushes forward and presses her chest against my belly since she’s even shorter in her flat sandals.

“Hi, baby. Mama’s missed you.” She flicks my nipple through my forest green top and walks her first two fingers down my side toward my cock.

Right before she reaches it, I spring back and sidestep around her, hurrying to my classroom to sit behind my desk before any students arrive. I curse myself for leaving my coffee since I haven’t been able to sleep without Penelope by my side,then curse again for forgetting to grab a bag of ice from the cafeteria.

I work hard at pushing Penelope’s intensely seductive words from my mind by reciting the list of U.S. presidents, first in chronological order, then alphabetically, until my hard dick deflates just before the first bell rings. After that, I find other lists of prominent figures to recite whenever I think of her until I can finally function enough to get through my classes without tripping over my words.

Chapter 10

Penelope

The hope that surged within me when I stepped out of my house Monday morning to find an Uber already waiting and paid for to take me to work completely vanished when Jacob ran away after he spotted my arrival. Jacob might feel bad enough about putting me out of a car to pay for my rides to and from school, but apparently, not bad enough to let me get within ten feet of him.

My attempt at seducing him on Tuesday was both laughable and pathetic, and I stopped bothering to pick out clothes that looked halfway decent on Wednesday. There’s no point. I’m done. Cooked, as the kids say. The fact that Jacob doesn’t want me has finally gotten through my head, and I don’t even look his way when his handsome, hulking presence passes me in the hall.

The best I can hope for now is that our forty-eight-hour fling will lead to a positive pregnancy test. If I am pregnant, then I’ll accept whatever Jacob wants to do, including handing off the baby through a third party so we can co-parent our child without ever having to talk face-to-face if that’s what he’d prefer. I wouldn’t blame him or try to pressure him for more.

If I do, devastatingly, get my period, then I’ll finally put myself back out on the dating scene, as depressing as that is, andfind someone willing to impregnate me as soon as possible. I’ll have to close my eyes and pretend whoever I’m with is Jacob so I don’t throw up, but if that’s what it takes, I’ll do it.

* * *

Sandra hovers around me like a mother hen, peppering me with questions about Jacob and why I’ve been dressing like I’ve just rolled out of bed for the last three days. I fob her off, knowing I’ll eventually tell her the whole sordid tale, but for now, I can’t dredge up enough energy to do so. The only thing I can do after the worst week of my teaching career is count my blessings that I don’t have to see anyone for a whole weekend.

My Friday night consists of lying in bed and drowning myself in self-pity and a jar of maraschino cherries while my brain conjures up the scent of citrus and sandalwood in the air, further tormenting me. I binge-watch my favorite episodes ofBridgertonon my laptop and bawl every time the male love interests push away the women they love. After a particularly brutal crying session following the happy ending of theluckyPenelope’s season, I close my eyes and pretend for half a second that I’m in her place with Jacob in Colin’s place.

I’m too weak to bring myself to crawl across the bedroom and into the shower after accidentally spilling my jar of leftover juice, now empty of cherries, on my chest. I strip my wet eight-dollar Walmart moo-moo off and toss it over the side of the bed after wiping up as much of the sticky, sweet substance as I can, thenlet the heavy darkness that’s been creeping in blissfully pull me under.

Jacob

From my crouched position in the dark bathroom, peering through the cracked open door, my mouth salivates in anticipation of licking the juice off of Penelope’s bare, pink-tipped tits. She grows drowsier with every sip from her glass of water with the crushed-up half of a sleeping pill I stirred in when she was in the kitchen searching for chocolate to go with her cherries an hour ago.

It was a race against the clock getting to Penelope’s house after work before her Uber dropped her off. I parked around the corner and used my spare key to slip inside her house, then searched her bedroom for the ropes she used on me. The treasure trove of sex toys I found on the top shelf of her closet was a windfall I hadn’t expected, and I have big plans for them.

Within minutes of discarding her adorable, pink flamingo nightgown, Penelope passes out in the middle of her bed, dried tears trailing down her puffy cheeks. Exiting the bathroom, I strip out of my clothes quickly, blood pounding hot in my veins, and unwind the soft coils of rope. After securing one limp wrist to the corner of her headboard, then the other, I toss the chocolate candy wrappers and close her laptop, placing it on her nightstand, then pull her quilt off, folding it and setting it aside since things are about to get very, very messy.

---