Mr Blackwell:Teacher Student Romance
By: S K Quinn‘And you think I won’t?’
‘You won’t try and get me into bed. You’re too controlled.’
I close my eyes, and when I open them again Cassandra is watching me expectantly.
I sigh. ‘Come on. I’ll help you find a cab.’
‘We don’t need a cab. My apartment is right down the street.’ She flutters her heavy, black eyelashes. ‘Pretty please? It’s not safe to walk alone.’
‘Fine.’
I never can say no to a damsel in distress.
7
The air is sticky-hot as we stroll out of the club – me keeping a gentlemanly distance from Cassandra.
The bouncer checks his watch as we leave. ‘Looks like someone got lucky, and it’s not even ten o’clock. Best of luck with her kid. She’ll eat you alive.’
It’s then I see Ria in the VIP queue. Staring at me with huge, hurt eyes.
Oh Christ.
‘Ria—’ I reach out to her, but she steps back. She wears a silver gown that spills open from neck to naval.
‘I’m just walking her home,’ I say. ‘That’s all.’
Ria jerks back. ‘Who is she?’
‘I never made you any promises,’ I whisper.
Ria shakes her head. ‘Forget it. This is all my fault. You’re fucking sixteen. Of course you can’t keep your dick in your pants. Look, I forgive you okay? Just ditch her and come to the party with me—’
‘Ria. Why don’t we talk about this tomorrow …’
‘After you’ve fucked her?’
‘I told you. All I’m doing is walking her home.’
The bouncer snorts.
‘Take me home instead Marc,’ Ria begs. ‘I’ll give you the night of your life.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. Listen. Ria. I’ve had fun with you, but—’
‘You had FUN with me!’ Ria screeches, taking aim to slap my face.
I grab her wrist. ‘Stop it Ria. You’re drunk.’
‘Oh fuck you Marc Blackwell!’ She wrenches her hand free and grabs a handsome, blond man from the queue.
They walk into the club together – the blond man looking like he’s won the lottery.
Cassandra shakes her head. ‘Very well handled, young Mr Blackwell. But for future reference, never tell a woman you had fun with her.’
‘Duly noted.’
Cassandra links arms with me. ‘Listen.’ She leads me down the street. ‘What just happened. I’m not like that. I don’t want a boyfriend. I don’t want a man to bring me flowers. I won’t ring you up in tears at three in the morning. I just want what I want. Understood?’
Her eyes are on fire.
Christ – god knows I need a release. All day, every day I need relief from the turmoil inside.
‘I’ll walk you home,’ I tell her.
‘And you’ll come up for a drink?’
‘I’ll come up for a drink.’
Cassandra lives at a gleaming, silver block of apartments not far from the club.
As we step into the elevator, I begin to feel nervous.
‘Listen,’ I tell Cassandra, as the elevator pings open. ‘Just one drink. Okay? Then I should go.’
‘Okay,’ she says, leading me out into the hallway. ‘Just one drink. But will you let me show you one thing?’
‘What thing?’
‘A surprise thing.’
8
Cassandra’s apartment is beautiful.
Very LA.
Huge glass window overlooking the city. Minimalist couches and single orchids in tall vases.
‘What do you do?’ I ask. ‘To own a place like this.’
‘I’m an actress.’ She laughs at my expression. ‘Surprised? Every woman in LA is an actress.’
‘I just …’
‘I know. You haven’t seen me in anything. I look different in the movies. I’m what you call versatile.’
‘Versatile?’
‘Sit on the couch,’ she tells me. ‘What’ll you have … another whisky?’
I sit awkwardly on the edge of the sofa, my legs feeling overly long.
‘Whisky’s fine.’
‘Don’t most teenagers drink beer?’
‘I’m not most teenagers.’
‘I know.’ She passes me a large whisky in a square glass tumbler. ‘So.’ She sits on the couch beside me. ‘I need to show you something. You promised.’
