Turning A Page: A Student Professor Romance Read online

  “Dude,” began the guy. I turned my attention to him and realized he was slim, muscled and definitely less than twenty-five, which was pretty typical of Helena.

  “Don’t worry about it, buddy,” I said, cutting him off before he launched into those standard apologies that I’d heard a million times before.

  “Shouldn’t be more than another thirty minutes, darling,” she said to me, her face softening into a slight smile. She shushed her man as he went to protest.

  “No problem,” I offered, turning to go. I heard him complaining and her calming him quietly as I made my way back to the stairs. By the time I’d gotten back to the foyer, I was sure they would be fucking again. I took myself to the nearest bar and finally had that drink.

  *****

  I returned after almost an hour to find Helena in our bed, in her white terry-cloth robe, a towel wrapped around her head, painting her toes. She greeted me with a smile as I entered the room, then blew air along the wet varnish that decorated her nails.

  “I do hope you’re not in a bad mood, now,” she said evenly, perhaps misreading the mild scowl on my face.

  “I’m not,” I told her, feeling lighter as I was finally able to shrug off the wretched suit jacket and shirt I’d been sweating in all day. Nowhere in the state’s propaganda brochures does it ever quite prepare you for the extreme Texas heat.

  “Because if you’re unhappy with our arrangement, I want you to tell me before it becomes an issue, not after.”

  “Darling,” I looked over to smile at her. I received a warm look in response as her eyes moved over my now naked torso. “I promise you I’m not unhappy.”

  “Remember what we said: So long as it’s discreet, doesn’t cause the other to make any sacrifice, and we don’t fall in love with anyone else’,” she reminded me.

  “I’m well aware of the terms of our marriage,” I smiled, kicking off my shoes and socks, then slipping off my suit pants, “and I’m fine. It’s a long way away from those crazy days in New York and LA,” I paced over to the bed and lay down next to her, “but you’re so beautiful it’s hard not to wish I was the one fucking you, instead of him.”

  She leaned over to peck me on the lips. “Thank you, darling. I love you.”

  “Love you too,” I said, looking for the TV remote. “And thanks for confining yourselves to the guest room.

  “It seemed the polite thing to do.”

  I was attracted by a movement as she slipped the towel off her head. Her long blonde hair fell in wet strands across her face until she suddenly whipped them back as she saw me looking at her. For someone who had made so much money as the face of cosmetic companies, she needed virtually no makeup to look incredible.

  “So, who was he this time?” I grinned, edging in closer as she scooted down to me. “A local Craiglist guy or a long-distance Tinder hookup?”

  “Do you really want to know?

  “Not really.”

  “Then don’t ask,” she whispered, moving in to kiss me again. She planted a long, soft kiss on my lips, then quickly pulled back. “I should tell you I’m going to be gone for the weekend, though. I fly out tomorrow morning.”

  “With him?”

  “I thought you said you didn’t want to know?”

  I see,” I told her. I tried but I couldn’t keep the disappointment out of my voice. I didn’t have a problem with our marriage. It felt perfectly healthy to stay honest and upfront with each other and acknowledge that we needed to sleep with other people from time to time. We always protected each other’s emotions and we were in love.

  Our relationship was born out of the wild and decadent sex, drug, and million-dollar-bill fueled rock and roll world of fashion and photography. Everyone fucked everyone else. On more than one occasion it felt as though everyone was, in fact, fucking everyone else in the same room. The only way we’d been able to make our marriage last nearly fifteen years was by rising above petty sexual jealousy. I loved her and she loved me. That was the most important thing.

  “Caleb, tell me the truth,” she put on her domineering voice. It normally turned me on but I sensed she was being a little too serious for that, this time.

  “I swear, I’m okay,” I reassured her. “I just had a hot, grimy, and tiresome day and I kinda needed you. There’s no way you could have known, though.”

  “I’m here now,” she smiled, twisting her fingers through the hairs on my chest.

  “Aren’t you sated? Haven’t you ever had enough?”

  “I always try and make sure I have energy for you.”

  I kissed her softly on the lips. “And I appreciate that. However, I think you might appreciate me taking a shower first.”

  Helena laughed as I stood up and went over to our bathroom. Inside I turned on the jets inside the vast, marble shower and stood as the room filled with steam. I stepped under the hot water as it pulsed down from above, and was assaulted from the sides by the auxiliary jets in the walls. The entire master bath must have been bigger than my first studio apartment in Brooklyn which, coincidently, doubled as my actual studio.

  I had a brief flashback to some of those early photoshoots there, back around the turn of the century. Me the struggling artist. Some young, waif-like girl the desperate model. Both of us starving, for both food and fame. There was just no way we could make it through a sexy, artistic photoshoot without fucking. And, as my fame and notoriety grew, the models became less starving and desperate but the sex came even easier. Those early sessions, though, when everything was so raw and real, they are still the ones that get my juices flowing.

  My mind wandered to a shoot with a dark, slender young thing who went on to make millions and marry into billions. Back then, though, we recognized the need in each other as the whole industry seemed to be against us, she lay before me nude and curled her delicate hand around my stiffening cock. Back in the shower, I felt the blood rushing to my dick before a small, delicate hand appeared and wrapped itself around my stiffening cock.

  “I can’t leave you to deal with this by yourself,” Helena’s voice came from behind me, “I feel like that would count as forcing you to make a sacrifice.”

  She turned me around and dropped to her knees, in front of me.

  “Like I said,” I gasped as her touch sent shivers through me, “I really have no problem with our current agreement.”

  *****

  Did it feel odd the next morning, kissing my wife goodbye before she got into her Mercedes and drove off to the airport to go and spend the weekend having sex with another man? Or even men? No. It was the way we’d been doing it for over a decade.

  I loved her so much I didn’t want to be the one to stand in the way of her happiness or to deny her pleasure. And I knew she felt the same. I went back into the house, still dressed in my robe, to find the cup of coffee I’d just made and then put down so I could help Helena with her bags.

  There was a folded note under my cup. God knows how she’d managed to slip it there without my seeing. I opened it to read her handwriting, and a ticket dropped out.

  Love you, my darling, it said, but while I’m gone, go and remember the good times we had here. And I realize the pointlessness of telling you not to do anything I wouldn’t do…

  I picked up the ticket and the realization hit me. It was black, with fuzzy, dark and anonymous figures milling about under bright lights. Looking closer, I could make out the odd costumes and implements that the figures sported.

  It was almost five years ago and I couldn’t remember why we’d been in Austin at all, but I did remember that night. Helena had persuaded me into going and we’d had one wild time. Dressed in leather and rubber, losing ourselves in dangerous abandon for one night at the semi-regular fetish party known as TheWrecker’s Ball among the throngs of deviants and fetishists. And she wanted me to go by myself. Tomorrow night.

  Chapter 3:Paige

  I wanted to be there for him but I was fighting back the tears. And it wasno longer frustration, I was
desperately afraid Adam just didn’t find me attractive anymore. I was scared for our whole future. I loved him so much but how could I commit to marrying a guy who didn’t find me sexy? I’d always be insecure. Even if he was completely true to me, I’d be constantly questioning him about who he was with, where he was going. Our life would be hell.

  Grinding my butt against his erection in the morning only prompted him to get up and pee. Then, in the evening, I cooked him a beautiful meal, put out candles, wine, the whole nine yards. We had great fun but when I tried to turn up the heat, he made excuses about overdoing it on my great cooking and being ready to sleep.

  “Babe,” I pleaded, trying not to sound too whiney but needing him to understand how important this was to me. To us. “Babe, I love you so much, but I’m really struggling to believe you still want me.”

  He turned to me and I thought I saw a look of annoyance on his face. His gorgeous eyes flashed with what felt like anger for an instant, and I felt my heart in my mouth. Then he turned his head again to stare straight ahead.

  “I love you, too,” he sighed quietly, “and you’re right. I don’t know what’s happening. I guess we need to spice things up a little. I could never be bored with you but I think I might be a little tired of our situation. Tired of our daily grind.”

  Maybe I should I have been affronted or insulted by his words, but all I heard was his acknowledgment that we had a problem and that there was a glimmer of hope that we might find a way back to our old selves. “Spice things up…” I repeated, muttering to myself and nodding.

  “Yeah,” he turned back to me and smiled, “push ourselves out of our comfort zone. Live a little. Be a bit more wild and dangerous.”

  I liked to think I was an open minded and adventurous person. I couldn’t say I was crazy about inviting someone to join us in bed or letting him tie me up and spank me, but I was prepared to try some stuff to make this work. “So, what are you talking?” I tried to make my voice sound intrigued and seductive. “Three-ways? You wanna watch me with another girl? Another guy?”

  “It’s tempting,” he joked, “but I don’t think we need to go that far. Not yet.”

  “So, what then?”

  “I saw a flyer on the noticeboard outside the library the other day. Today it was taken down, so it must be good,” he smiled, dragging his laptop over to us. He hit a couple of keys and turned the screen toward me. “Here you are. It’s supposed to be this legendary club night in Austin.”

  The title said The Wrecker’s Ball.I looked at the pictures. They were erotic, sure, some were even sexy, but they were also a little scary. The girls were dressed in exotic leather and rubber costumes, skin-tight, revealing, some only hiding their nipples behind crosses of black tape, some not hiding them at all. The guys’ outfits ranged from things resembling an urban vampire, to blood-covered surgeons, to full-on gimp outfits complete with ball-gags. It looked like another world, like some hell dimension filled with the last dregs of humanity to survive the apocalypse.

  “Are you serious?” I asked, still looking through the photos. “You want to go and party with perverts and degenerates? Are you looking to get flayed alive or have uncomfortable things inserted into you?”

  “I think you’re making assumptions,” Adam scolded me. “These are professional people who like to experiment, push boundaries, and live their lives beyond society’s limits. They make it very clear, see?” he pointed out the warnings, rules, and disclaimers along the bottom of the webpage, “it’s all strictly policed. They don’t let just anyone in off the streets and they firmly enforce a BDSM dress code.”

  I had to silently admit to myself that it did look intriguing. My initial worries over safety evaporated as I realized it wouldn’t remain a popular club night for so long if the patrons were being continually raped or assaulted. “Okay, say I’m in. I can tell you now I have nothing that would meet this dress code.”

  “That sexy outfit you wore last night wouldn’t be out of place,” he smiled. “Just add a whip!”

  “I’m not going clubbing in my lingerie.”

  “A lot of the other girls do. Look.”

  “Go with them then.” I was trying to remain light-hearted and open, but I was starting to get that familiar, insecure feeling.

  Adam hugged me to him. “I’m just kidding, babe,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Don’t be concerned. With Fifty Shades and all that kinda thing, this is almost the norm, now. I mean, look how packed it is. And we have all day tomorrow. Why don’t we head up to Austin early and see what kind of sexy, scary costumes we can find? It’ll be like Halloween, but with more chains and fishnet stockings.”

  “So, that’s just a regular Halloween, then?”

  *****

  Despite my misgivings, I could feel the excitement rising even before we hit the highway for the hour-long drive to the state capital. We laughed and joked. I kept my hand on his thigh as he drove. It felt like the whole day was one huge build up, like eight hours of anticipating, teasing foreplay. I was wet before we even parked the car.

  I didn’t know how long Adam had been planning to try this with me, but he seemed to have done his research. We pulled over on a side street on the not too great side of town. We were definitely far away from the capital building and the tourist centers of Austin, and outside what looked like a converted laundromat. Adam told me that, according to the forums, this was a popular spot for the local fetishists to find their outfits.

  Inside, it was a regular costume store, with all the monsters, mobsters, soldiers, and obligatory cheap ‘sexy kitten’ gear that they all seemed to supply, for holidays, parties, drama clubs and school plays but, as the very tall, very thin, very pale guy that was clerking the store pulled back a curtain, with one emaciated, heavily tattooed arm, we soon found the wardrobe from hell.

  The smell of rubber and leather was almost overwhelming. Whips and other bondage apparatus hung from the walls, there were phallic sex toys on the shelves, and the first three rows of clothes reminded me of the Tim Burton Batman movies.

  “Wow, this stuff goes for a fortune,” Adam exclaimed, looking at the price tag on a shiny black suit that looked like it was made from liquid vinyl.

  “And how are we going to afford that?” I asked him.

  “Relax, they rent,” he smiled. “Look back here, I know you could find something.” He pulled me over to a long line of fantastical women’s wear. I couldn’t keep a smile from sliding onto my face. I was never a fashion whore, but I did like clothes. I liked sexy clothes and I liked strange and unusual clothes. And here was a whole rack of sexy, strange, and unusual clothes.

  “Oh, my,” I managed. I started looking through the hangers. “Okay. I’m sold. Go find something for you and leave me alone.”

  The costumes on display were almost indescribable. They ranged from tight, full-length arm and leg catsuits to positively pornographic onesies, from long flowing ballgowns to strappy, short, front and backless dresses. Anything I could think of to make me look like a princess, or a princess of the night.

  I picked a couple and went to try them on. I found Adamand he had on a droog outfit from A Clockwork Orange, one of his favorite films. The tight white suit, with the braces and the black boots, looked strangely sexy on him, but it may have been my horniness talking. He even had a bowler hat and cane. “Cool,” I smiled at him.

  “I know, right?” he beamed. “What have you got?”

  “You’ll see,” I teased him, and pulled the fitting room curtain across. The first one I picked was made of shiny blue and red fabric, over a white base. It was a classic Alice in Wonderland dress that I thought was nicely ironic, considering where we were heading, as well as suiting my long blonde hair perfectly. Only, it was a little too small for me. My breasts filled out the top really well, giving me a stunning cleavage, but the skirt was so short. It frilled up like Alice’s did in the Disney cartoon and only just seemed to cover my pussy.

  “Are you coming out?” Adam calle
d.

  In truth, I didn’t feel at all comfortable being seen in the tiny outfit. I may have been okay at night, at the club, with everyone else in outlandish wear, But, in the store with the thin, creepy guy sitting at his register, I wasn’t on board with the idea of showing off. “Can you come in here?” I giggled, nervously.

  Adam slipped in and his jaw dropped. “Holy crap!” he stammered. “You look amazing!” I felt a flush come to my face and the feeling that he found me hot was returning. “Turn around?” I twirled for him and felt his hand on my butt cheek. “Did you know your ass is almost completely uncovered?”

  “Oh, my God? Is it?” I tried to pull the hemline down, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “Yeah,” he breathed, “and it's making me really hard.”

  I felt his fingers move to the thong of my underwear, all that hid me from the world, and slip under the flimsy material. At the same time, his other hand took mine and moved it over the rock-likebulge in his pants.

  “Adam?” I whispered breathlessly. “What are you doing?” I let out a gasp as his fingers slid into my slippery hole, finding the soft, velvet walls inside me that had been yearning for him.

  “Shush,” he hissed softly. I felt the heat of the skin that covered his hard muscle against the delicate flesh of my ass, and I knew he was going to try and fuck me right then.

  “No,” I gasped again as he slid his fingers a fraction deeper, “not here, baby.”

  I felt him open his mouth to say something, when a firm cough came from outside the curtain. “One customer at a time in the fitting room, please,” came the gruff voice.

  *****

  My heart was racing, and it felt like our collective juices were really flowing, as we made our final selections from the boutique. No matter how wild it drove Adam, I was just not ready to go out in public in that ultra-short dress. Even to what was tantamount to a sex party. Instead, I chose a naughty nurse’s uniform that was also short, also colorful, but a touch more modest.