Page 10 of Scream For Me

Probably because I’ve already played out a ton of sexy scenarios in my mind not to mention I may have even considered baby name combinations for our kids.

“Not to mention when I want something I want it all to myself. I’ve never been good at sharing anything. My toys when I was a kid. Food. Even notes on students with other teachers or professors. And I’m certainly not sharing my woman with anyone, ever.”

Hearing him say “his woman” makes my entire body light up again, not that I wasn’t already fully awake and alert right now. Just being around him creates this air of excitement unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

“Professors share notes about students?”

“All the time, but not me.”

“Why?”

“They want to know who’s trouble, who might be cheating, and who their best students are before their classes even start. Sometimes for seating purposes and other times just to know what to expect and things like that.”

“But you don’t.”

“No. I run my classrooms my way and students take one look at me and know I’m not here to mess around. I’m getting paid directly by the students or their parents to give them the highest quality education I can, and that’s exactly what I do each and every day.”

“That sounds pretty intense.”

“I take pride in what’s mine. That includes my work and the people in my close circle.”

“Like my dad,” I say and wish I could pull the words back into my mouth.

“Like your dad. Yes. Peter’s a good man and he did an excellent job raising you right.”

“Let’s see who can pick out the best pumpkin,” I say. I don’t really feel like talking about my dad right now with the guy who’s pants I just had my hands down.

“Okay, if I win you have to make me a pumpkin pie,” he says.

“And if I win you have to carve up the pumpkin for me,” I say.

“Deal,” he says.

“With your shirt off,” I throw in at the last minute.

“Okay then, but then you have to make that pie in nothing more than an apron.”

I can’t hold back the smile. “You’re on,” I say and we both start hunting through the pumpkin patch for a good one.

“Can I help you?” a voice says and I look up to see a guy in a flannel shirt that looks like maybe he works here.

“Oh, sorry. Are you closing soon?”

“No, I just noticed you over here by yourself and I wanted to help.”

“I’m not by myself,” I say, now realizing his true intentions and hoping he’ll get the hint.

“Well I don’t see anyone else here, and I mean…if I were here with you I certainly wouldn’t wander off and just leave you. I’d want to spend as much time as I could with you.”

Just then out of my peripheral view I see a big object block out the light from the light pole and this guy falls into a shadow, even though there’s no sun out.

Suddenly his body is going skyward as I watch his hipster boots leave the ground and his feet dangle a good six inches off the straw lined walkways between the pumpkins.

“You keep bothering woman that are already spoken for and I’ll make sure you spend as much time as you can in a hospital bed in a full body cast, you understand me?”

“Yes, I’m really sorry,” the college-aged boy says.

He’s no slouch either. He’s built well, lean like an Abercrombie and Fitch type model. You can tell even with that flannel on. But even though he’s probably six feet tall or maybe six feet one the difference between a lean boy and a muscular man is like night and day.

“Apologize to her for not respecting her wishes,” he says.

I should tell Bishop that it’s no big deal or to stop, but for some reason my mouth just doesn’t open.

I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want us to look divided in public, or because as a smaller woman I never really get a chance to “fight back” against all the little b.s. that goes on on a weekly, and sometimes daily basis.

I’m not sure if it’s because I’m small, or because I’m a woman, or I just look like an easy target or what, but I swear it seems like people are often trying to take advantage of me left and right. Maybe some of those old adages are true. I need to do a better job of sticking up for myself and not let people try and walk all over me half the time.

But that nonsense ends right here and now as I’m very much witnessing first hand.

This near-violence, especially in public like this, should almost be embarrassing, but it’s not…at all.

It’s exhilarating and I feel myself getting turned on once again. I swear Bishop can excite me from my head to my toes, and especially in the middle of my body, in more ways that I could have ever guessed.

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