Page 87 of Grin and Bear It

“What do we need to do to persuade you?” Lin said. “You know we’re prepared to do anything.”

No, he wasn’t, not really. If he was, he’d throw the tablecloth back and drop to his knees under the table, replacing his fingers with his tongue, just like I wanted. I bit back that response, half terrified he would.

“You’re not eating,” I pointed out.

“Not what I want in my mouth,” he replied with a wink, stabbing several bites of onto his fork and then eating them.

“And neither are you,” Nash prompted, nodding to where I gripped my knife and fork like I was about to fight someone.

Or something.

A reckless twist of pleasure slid through me, one mostly of anticipation and somewhat of actual sensation. They were teasing me with what they could do, rather than what they were. I took a bite of a tiny slider filled with a beef patty and some avocado and chewed rebelliously.

“Good girl.”

Fuck, that shouldn’t hit like that. No one was more cynical about praise than a teacher. All the times you had to praise the tiniest of efforts to try and steer recalcitrant kids back onto the right path, trying to build a bond and a confidence on a road paved with positive feedback. But my eyes met Nash’s, feeling like I was drowning in those golden depths as he smiled, seeing my response to his words and then nodding.

“Such a good girl.”

“You’d be even better if you went to the toilets,” Lin said in the same kind of tone you’d use to talk about the weather. “And removed those no doubt very pretty knickers you’ve got on.”

I did not have a praise kink, I didn’t. So why did I stand up, blinking when I got there, catching their slow smiles? I wiped my hands hastily on a cloth napkin and then set it back down on the table.

“I’m not—” I started to say.

“That’s fine,” Nash said and then shot Lin a glare. “We’re not here to push your boundaries.”

“Not unless you want us to.”

And there it was. A note of hectic challenge in Lin’s eyes that seemed to dance as his smile widened. He dared me, it felt, to do exactly as he asked, to step away from being responsible and reliable, to become… My mind couldn’t consciously finish that sentence, so my feet moved, my eyes scanning the restaurant as I searched for the bathrooms.

When I got there, I slapped my hands down on the bench where several sinks had been installed. Maybe Nash had put them in, I wondered, but as I sucked in breaths, trying to clear my head, a buzz let me know that a message had come through.

Send me a picture, the message from Lin read.

Of what?I tapped out with a frown.

Of you, bared for us. I need to know if you’re as wet as we are hard.

Fuck… I’d stood up with the school based constable and the counsellor and talked to classes about the dangers of sexting, but… My eyes flicked to the mirror, seeing my reflection and not really recognising the girl there.

Not Miss Jennings, not Eleanor, not even Ellie. It felt like I was face to face with a whole other side of myself right now.

Another buzz and then I glanced at my phone.

Please?

Fuck, did they have to be this weird combination of authoritative and wanting? The combination was catnip for me, so just as I’d warned my students, I found myself walking towards the toilet cubicle and locking it. My hands shook as I pulled my underwear down and over my heels, then I was left to wonder what the fuck to do with them. Thank gods for a capacious bosom, because it wouldn’t make much difference to their size if I stuffed my undies into my bra. But then there was the other request. I looked down at the phone, half expecting another message to pop up from someone in my life, as though they were on tap for how to deal with this sort of scenario.

If it was Mum, she’d ask me what the hell I was thinking. If it was Coll, she’d just urge me on. And what about me? I raked my dress up, my intimate skin feeling so much more bare as cool air played over my newly shaved mound. I set the phone down on the closed toilet seat, put it into selfie mode as I spread my legs either side of it and then reached down to take the photo.

For a second I just stared at my phone screen, the device now back in my hand. The photo was somewhat blurry, but there in all my lurid pink glory was my cunt. I felt a brief moment of elation, fear and desire, each one warring with the other, creating this shaking anticipation that could only be resolved by sending the pic.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Shit. I blinked, looking around me, wondering what the fuck I was doing, rubbing my phone on my dress, because that would, of course, get rid of any germs I picked up on the device while taking photos in the loo. But right as I felt a flush of shame, my phone rang.

“Hello?”

Did Nash hear the hysterical edge to my voice?

---