Mr Blackwell:Teacher Student Romance

By: S K Quinn

The girl turns to Baz, her green eyes fixing on him. ‘That all depends.’

‘Oh yeah? On what?’

‘On your friend.’ She smiles at me, showing straight, white teeth.

Baz grins. ‘Oh right then. Well let me just step aside and let you too introduce each other.’

‘Hi,’ says the girl. ‘I’m Cassandra.’

She has a slight New York accent – but upper class New York. I notice that under her green-leather dress, she wears black boots with sharp high heels.

‘Cassandra.’ Baz lets out a whistle. ‘That’s a mouthful. So what should we call you? Cassie?’


She’s still looking at me, but she’s not smiling now. ‘Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?’

‘He’s twenty-one,’ says Baz, lying with an actor’s ease.

‘He could pass for it, but he isn’t,’ says Cassandra.

Baz frowns. ‘What are you trying to do? Get him thrown out? He’ll behave himself all right? He could drink most men under the table. He even gives me a run for my money.’

‘I don’t want him thrown out,’ says Cassandra. ‘But I might want him to leave with me.’

Baz laughs. ‘Well don’t let me stop you. There’s a girl over there I think could be my future wife. So. I’ll leave you to it.’

Baz heads into the crowd towards a pin-up, curvy blonde girl dressed like a stripper – just his type.

I frown at my Jack Daniels. After the mess with Ria, the last thing I need is more female trouble.

‘Not one for talking?’ Cassandra asks, taking a vodka shot from the barman.

‘You could say that.’

‘Me either. How about meeting new people?’

‘Right now, I’m not too keen on that either.’

‘Shame. Because you look like you could use my help.’

‘Could I indeed?’

‘Yes.’ She downs her vodka shot. ‘I’m just heading off home. But I don’t have anyone to walk me back. Will you come?’

I take a sharp sip of whisky. ‘There are hundreds of men here who’d happily take you home.’

‘And I don’t feel safe with any of them.’

I raise an eyebrow. ‘You feel safe with me? You’ve only just met me. You don’t even know my name.’

‘I do. It’s Marc Blackwell.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I asked around.’

I laugh. ‘Well. Cassandra. If feeling safe is what you want, I’m not your man. In fact, I think I’m the last person you could be safe with.’ I take a long sip of whisky and slam the empty glass on the bar. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me—’

‘You’re wrong.’ Her green eyes fix on mine. ‘Very wrong. You and I – we’re alike. We’re the same.’

‘The same?’ I let out a cynical laugh. ‘I don’t think I’m the same as anyone Cassandra.’ I turn to go.

‘You want a woman. But you hate losing control.’

I hesitate, one hand still touching the bar.

‘I can see it in you,’ she continues. ‘In anybody, actually. You will too. In time.’

‘Look, it’s been nice talking to you, but I really don’t know what—’

‘I can explain it better at my apartment.’

‘Explain what?’


In spite of myself, I’m intrigued.

I turn my drink on the bar, making a damp circle on the wood. ‘You need to be in control too?’

‘No.’ Cassandra smiles. ‘I need someone else to be in control.’

My hand drops from my glass, finding the stillness of the wooden bar.

‘I really should go now.’ I head across the club.


I have to get out of here. I have to think.

I need someone else to be in control ….

I feel a tug at my wrist.

‘Wait.’ It’s Cassandra. She’s almost my height in her high leather boots. ‘I still need someone to take me home.’

‘You want a boy my age to help you get home? There’s a whole club full of men here. Take your pick.’

‘And I already told you. I don’t feel safe with them. They’ll want to sleep with me.’

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