Authors: J.M. Hall
It was all the encouragement we needed. I lay her on her back, let my mouth slip over hers. Her hands gripped my shoulders and smoothed down my back, where they grabbed my ass and brought me in closer. My cock hardened against her thigh and she’d already slipped a hand between my legs to hold me in her grip.
“Wait,” I said. “Condoms.”
“I told you I can’t get pregnant.”
“Not risking it again…”
Fortunately, I had another idea. I lay flat on my back, then had Vanessa lay atop my body, the two of forming a perfect sixty-nine. I spread the cheeks of her ass, revealing the wet lips of her pussy. A few strokes of the tongue followed, with Vanessa backing further and further into my mouth with each passing moment.
I loved this: loved the raw, almost animalistic act of eating her pussy from behind. I probed deeper and deeper inside of her, until I was all but fucking her with my tongue. She whimpered in protest when I stopped, only to groan when I began again. The taste and the smell were like a heady cocktail that made my cock so hard it almost ached -- and that was before she started jerking me off.
She held my cock in her hand, squeezing and stroking with increasing speed. When she let me go, I had five, maybe ten seconds of calm before she cupped my balls in her palm and rolled them through her fingers. I broke free from her pussy, threw my head back and let out a pleasured groan. She was pleasuring me, torturing me, her cunt in my face and my balls in her hand. Something had to give; it was only a matter of time before one of us came first.
“Let go, Jesse,” she said to me. “It’s okay. I want to do this for you.”
One flick of the tongue across the head was all it took for me to surrender. Vanessa took me into her mouth inch by inch, sucking and stroking along the way. I gazed up at the ceiling, sweat dripping off my brow as my breath grew ragged. When I was close, I told her to stop, that I didn’t want to come in her mouth -- but she didn’t listen.
I came in a flash of hot, rapid bursts. Vanessa slid her mouth off my cock, but I didn’t let her slide off my body just yet.
“Stay right here,” I said. “I want to do something, but only if it’s okay with you.”
“I trust you.”
I gripped her thighs, brought her ass closer to my face. Though I’d already eaten her pussy, that wasn’t the only orifice I wanted to orally pleasure. I dragged a finger across her asshole, watched as she clenched shut.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll stop.”
“Just… not now.”
And so I returned to doing what I do best: eating her pussy until she came. By the time I was finished, her scent was all over me -- quite possibly the most arousing part of all. She rolled off my body, lay on the floor beside me so we were face-to-face. I leaned in, kissed her on the mouth, letting her taste herself in the process.
And yes, I was able to taste the remnants of my own orgasm as well. Salty and bitter, just as I remembered it.
The fire was still growing strong, the light from the pool casting pale blue shadows on the ceiling. My eyes were growing heavy, and it wasn’t long before I let out a yawn. Vanessa, for her part, didn’t seem to mind. She draped her head atop my chest, murmured when I ran my fingers through her hair.
We drifted off to sleep together.
But we weren’t alone.
It was almost dawn when I woke up.
I rolled over and reached out for Vanessa, but she was gone. The carpet was cold where she’d been sleeping; she must have left some time ago. I sat up, gathered my clothes off the floor and got dressed. I reached into my pocket, then remembered that all guests had to leave their mobile phones with the coat check at the front door.
Kurt wouldn’t be expecting me for another few hours, meaning I still had time head to the office. By the time I made it out of the pool, I saw that I wasn’t the only one that’d stayed after hours. We made our way through the dark halls of the mansion together, avoiding eye contact at all cost.
By the time I reached the coat check and got my phone, sunlight was starting to bleed through the windows of the living room. With any luck I could catch a cab and make it downtown before the morning rush.
Was Autumn still here?
More importantly, where was Vanessa?
With damp clothes and soggy shoes, I slipped on my coat and was about to walk out the front door when a man called out my name
“Can I ask you a few questions?”
“I’m sorry, have we met?”
“My name’s David Winter. I’m with Manhattan magazine.
“Well, Mr. Winter as much as I love reading
Manhattan
magazine each month, I’m afraid I have to be going.”
“Is this your first time attending? How did you get on the guest list?”
I didn’t have time for his questions, and clearly Autumn needed to do a better job of vetting her guest list if she were to continue having these soirees for Manhattan’s elite. The fact that this reporter was interested in writing a feature on the orgy wasn’t surprising -- but the fact that he’d gotten through the front door was
“Wait a second,” I said. “How did you know my name?”
“You honestly don’t remember, do you?”
It took me a while, but then it came to me. Two years ago,
Manhattan
magazine had run a grossly inaccurate story about one of our clients, a cosmetic surgeon that’d been sued by former patient for allegedly botching a simple liposuction procedure.
In reality, the patient had not only lied about their medical history, but also failed to take the proper post-op precautions. Kurt had saved the doctor’s reputation, and even managed to get
Manhattan
magazine to issue a retraction on their story.
David had been the reporter on that story. I suppose he was still working at the magazine, still chasing stories in the hopes of making a name for himself
“I remember,” I said. “So, how have you been?”
“Better, now that your client isn’t threatening to sue me for libel and defamation of character.”
“Your facts were wrong and you know it. And much as I’d love to stand here and rehash the past, I need to get going. Good luck with everything. Stay away from my clients and you and I will be just fine.”
I watched as he gave me a quick once over, the kind of head-to-toe scan that was meant to say,
I’m sizing you up and I’m not afraid to do it to your face
“You didn’t answer my questions,” he said. “Is this your first time here? And who did you know to get on the guest list? I’m sure Victory & Associates pays well, but you don’t have Upper East Side money.”
“Are you so sure?”
“I dug into your background after our last encounter. From what I heard you grew up in a shitty neighborhood down in Philly. Is that correct?”
“Tacony,” I said. “And yes, it’s a shithole. But I’m here now, and that’s all that matters.
Of all the things in the world to be intimidated by, David Winter wasn’t one of them. His dark brown hair was a bit long around the edges, enough to be tucked behind his ears, and a sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks and nose made him look like a high school student rather than a grown man
“Impressive,” he said. “Not many people born in your circumstances make it out of their neighborhoods”
“If I remember correctly, you come from a wealthy family in Boston. Makes sense, given how journalism is a field for the economically privileged.”
“And now here we are, wandering around a mansion together.”
“True. But then again, there is one difference between you and me.”
“And what’s that?”
“Unlike you, I actually got laid.”
David’s face flushed red in embarrassment. “How do you know I didn’t…?”
“Oh, come on. Your clothes aren’t wrinkled; not one strand of hair is out of place; and you didn’t even take off your wedding ring. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that you didn’t get any last night.
“I’m here to work,” he snapped.
“Exactly. Which means you’re here looking for a story. Find someone else to interview. I know better than to think you’d get your facts right.
“I’m not stupid,” he said. “I know that these places are full of whores -- literally. What I want to know is if there’s any connection between these kinds of parties and the dead hookers that are turning up in Long Island.”
“As sad as those murders are,” I said, “you’re looking in the wrong place. This is strictly high-end. The murders in Long Island? Craigslist girls. Different caste system altogether.”
I turned and walked away, then walked out the front door. I hailed a cab on Fifth Avenue, told him to take me to Battery Park. Traffic was still light, at least by Manhattan standards, though I’d still have plenty of time to think before I got home.
My primary objective would be justifying to Kurt why I needed to go back to Philadelphia to handle the situation at the Academy myself. I couldn’t think of why he’d object. After all, I was a former student, a successful alumnus, someone who knew the structure and the culture of the school firsthand. He could always come along for a day or two, answer any questions for the Board of Trustees, lend his more senior-level experience where it was needed.
I slumped into the back seat, decided to check my phone. I smiled when I saw that Vanessa had left me a text, and that she wanted to see me again soon.
Sorry to have left you. Went home with Eric.
See you soon? xo Vanessa
I’d send her a reply -- eventually. Before that, I left a voicemail with Autumn, telling her that she needed to vet her guest list more carefully, or increase security so that nosy reporters couldn’t make their way inside.
My encounter with David had left me uneasy, even irritated. What did he expect to gain by attending the party, anyway?
If he “outed” any of the guests, they had enough money and influence to make his life a living hell. And if he wrote about the party in a vague, non-descript manner, the piece would come across like a gossip column instead of an in-depth feature. A lose-lose situation, all around.
Then again, I couldn’t
completely
blame him. Print journalism had experienced more than its fair share of bloodshed in recent years, even if magazines were holding on better than newspapers. While many top-tier outlets such as
The New York Times
or
The Wall Street Journal
had seen success by charging for online content, others weren’t so lucky. Journalism was full of writers either looking for work or forced to do more with less -- often both.
Add in a bunch of PR executives who called at all hours with irrelevant story pitches, and it was enough to make any journalist scream.
I looked out the cab window and saw that we’d reached Midtown. Still a ways to go before we reached Battery Park, however. I was tempted to just go back to my apartment, crawl into bed and sleep to my heart’s content. One of the benefits of being a freelancer: you worked when you wanted to.
Still, Kurt needed me. He
wanted
me on this case, and I wasn’t about abandon him when I finally had a chance to put the past behind me for good. For years, all I’d dreamed about was leaving Philadelphia behind and making a new life for myself in New York City. And now that I’d accomplished that, what did I want to do next?
I wanted to go home.
“All I need is a few days, Kurt. Just to see what the temperament is around campus.”
Kurt and I sat in the conference room, a strange choice given that it was just the two of us. He typed away at his Macbook Pro, then closed the lid and asked me one simple question.
“Is there something you’re not telling me, Jesse?”
I denied keeping anything from him. However, as an alumnus of the Academy, it was important that I see this to matter to fruition myself. While no one could change what had already occurred between Drake and Simone, that didn’t mean I could sit back and let the Academy go down in flames.
“That’s very admirable of you,” Kurt said. “There’s something else going on here. I can sense it.”
Kurt’s bullshit detector was the stuff of legend here in New York. Whether it was a client who wasn’t being forthcoming about their crisis or a reporter that was caught red-handed fabricating lies for the sake of selling papers, Kurt could always separate fact from truth.
“Jesse?”
“This isn’t the first time something like this has happened,” I said. “Back when I was a student, something else like this happened back then, too.”
“Go on…”
What could I tell him without blowing my cover and being taken off the case immediately? I hated lying to Kurt, hated the fact that what had happened between Bobby and I in the past was still affecting my present.
“You know the story,” I said. “Teacher starts sleeping with a student, they keep it under wraps. From what I understand, the student didn’t want to risk his place at the Academy by accusing a well-liked teacher of having sex with him.”
“Was the teacher ever identified?” Kurt asked.
“He’s not teaching anymore. The student went off to college, never made much of it again.”
“This is valuable information. If New Hope Academy has had multiple teacher-student affairs, that means a couple of things. First, something is amiss in their screening process. Secondly, there must not be enough checks and balances at the Academy itself, if an adult can have sex with a teenager without raising any red flags.”
Kurt’s voice dripped with disapproval. I knew him well enough to know that he cared deeply for the welfare of children of all ages, adolescents included. I shifted in my seat, unable to maintain eye contact with him for more than a few seconds.
“Did you know the student in question?” Kurt asked.
“Yes. He was great.”
“And what of the teacher? What was she like?”
“Like I said, everyone loved him.”
“Him?”
I nodded. “Looking back, it’s a good thing that this little ‘affair’ was never revealed to the public. We both know that the public tends to be less forgiving with gay affairs that heterosexual ones.”
“A double standard, for sure.” Kurt swiveled his chair around to face the forest of skyscrapers outside the conference room. “All right. You can go. Book your travel arrangements and the agency will reimburse you.”
“Thank you. This means a lot.”
“Oh, and Jesse?”
“Yes?”
“I know what happened last night.”
I was certain I’d misheard him. “Sorry?”
“Your run-in with David Winter from
Manhattan
magazine. He left me a long-winded voicemail this morning, saying how he would never give any of our clients coverage again after how rude you were to him.”
“Did he say where we met?”
“No, just something about at an after-hours bar on the Upper East Side.”
I closed my eyes, exhaled. “Right…”
“I’m not upset, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Kurt added. “It’s not like our clients are clamoring to be in
Manhattan
magazine anyway, and I certainly wouldn’t let them speak with David of all people.”
“Not much with the fact-checking, is he?”
“To say the least.”
I lay back in my chair, resisted the urge to let out a scream or relief. Kurt and I were close -- but not so close that I wanted him to know that I’d attended an orgy on the Upper East Side last night. If my previous attempt at “coming out” was any indication, he wasn’t ready to handle my outside job. It wasn’t something he could comprehend, hence his laughing fit at the mere idea of me selling sex.
As for Mr. Winter, I’d have to keep an eye on him. The last thing I needed was some so-called reporter chasing a murder mystery and blowing my cover in the process.
“Will you be joining me?” I asked Kurt. “Down in New Hope, that is?”
“Of course. I can leave as early as tonight, if that works. The rest of the staff is working on producing the materials we’ll bring along with us. Your holding statement and Q&A for the media were excellent, by the way. As was the media list of local reporters that are likely to provide fair and balanced coverage.”
“I did my best,” I said. “I haven’t been in Philly for a while, but I still remember the media market. It’s not the biggest -- at least not anymore -- but there are still a few reporters that know how to do their jobs.
“Do you anticipate this getting more local coverage?”
“It seems saturated at the moment,” I explained. “The
Inquirer
,
Philadelphia
magazine, and all the local evening news programs have covered it. At this point, our best bet is to address the issue head-on, so by the time the national media catches wind of it, the Academy will at least look proactive in addressing and scandal and making amends.
“My thoughts exactly,” Kurt said. “Ideally, this will remain a
local
scandal rather than developing into a national one. Whether or not that happens largely depends on us. If we help the Academy through this, it’ll be over and done with shortly.”
“You think so?”
“What else is there to do? What happened between this young man and his teacher is history. Done and done. We can’t change that. What we
need
to do now, what we’re being
paid
to do, is address the issue with students and parents, field any questions from the media, and create a framework to ensure a future situation doesn’t happen again.”
“I just wish there was more we could do regarding that last part,” I said. “Ensuring a future ‘affair’ doesn’t happen again.”
“I can’t believe this has happened twice in the span of ten years. That’s ridiculous! What kind of atmosphere does this place have? Is it secluded? Do people not think there needs to be precautions to prevent this from happening?”
“It is secluded,” I explained. “And, generally speaking, people are pretty trusting. It was a hell of a lot different from my old high school. No metal detectors; teachers who knew students by their first names; not to mention all the pride that came around each May when college acceptance letters came in.”
“Tell me more about the affair that happened when you were still a student,” Kurt said. “Did any of the faculty know? What about students? Was it just ignored, or was there any kind of investigation?”
“I…”
“I know it happened a long time ago,” Kurt added. “But any information we have will be useful. You said you knew the student, right?”
“I did. Still do. Like I said, he’s great. He didn’t ask for his English teacher to start a sexual relationship with him. But at the same time, he didn’t want to stop it, either.”
“Why’s that?”
“He was a scholarship student,” I said. “Think about it: Would the Academy really
take a scholarship kid’s word over that of a beloved teacher? And who’s to say they wouldn’t just cancel his scholarship right then and there?”
“You really think the Academy would have done that?”
“What the hell was I supposed to think? I was a kid from a shitty neighborhood in Philly, and all of a sudden I’m in this beautiful place out in countryside. I wasn’t about to risk my spot and completely wreck my future.”
And just like that, I’d blown my cover.
“Jesse…”
“You asked a question, Kurt. You asked if I knew the student that had an affair with his English teacher ten years ago. I do. It’s me. And the teacher in question? You’ve met him as well. It was Bobby.”
*
*
*
“You brought me to a church?”
Kurt shrugged. “It’s the only place I know where people will leave you alone. I’m not even religious -- but tell people you’re going to church, and they leave you alone.”
“Nice.”
It was a busy afternoon on East Fiftieth Street, that precious time after lunch hour but before the evening rush. Kurt took the first steps inside, then beckoned me to come inside with him.
“Here goes nothing,” I mumbled.
The inside was beautiful. Wooden pews stretched forward as far as my eye could see. I gazed to my left, my right, noted the beautiful stained glass windows. Kurt had already walked on ahead, leaving me to catch up. Every step seemed to echo off the vaulted ceilings, and I couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in a place of worship.
Kurt stood before an altar, lighting a votive candle. He blew out the match, then fished a few dollars out of his pocket and made the requisite donation.
“I thought you weren’t religious?” I asked him.
“I was raised in a big Catholic family out in Chicago. You never really leave Catholicism. It’s in my blood, whether I like it or not.”
“I see.”
“Why did you keep this from me?” Kurt asked. “What happened back at the Academy, I mean?”
“It’s not exactly dinner conversation.”
We settled into one of the wooden pews near the front altar. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, as there wasn’t an actual mass scheduled until later that day. But it seemed that merely sitting, and pondering one’s life was permitted. I could tell that Kurt wanted to ask a million questions, but didn’t know where to start. Finally, he leaned into my ear and said: “We don’t have to do this, Jesse.”
“What do you mean?”
“The case. I don’t need the Academy’s money. The firm is doing great -- growing each and every quarter. And to be honest, I don’t like the idea of representing someone who…”
“Seduced me as a teenager? It’s okay, Kurt. You can say it. Bobby had me wrapped around his finger. All it took was a few months. Pretty soon, I wasn’t even resisting anymore.”
“That’s no excuse on his part, Jesse. And don’t use the word ‘seduced’ when in reality, he’d actually used his position to take advantage of you.”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I
let
him do all of those things to me. And even if I had told someone -- what then? Who would have believed me? I was better off keeping my mouth shut.”
“He exploited you,” Kurt said bluntly. “It’s disgusting -- and it’s wrong.”
“And now look what happened. To his own nephew, no less.”
“What?”
It seemed that Bobby had left a few details out from his conversation with Kurt. I gave him the Cliff’s Notes version, up to and including the fact that Bobby’s own nephew is the student that had an “affair” with the temptress known as Simone. It was almost Shakespearean, really. Now Bobby knew how it felt to have a loved one taken advantage of by an adult.
“This is going from bad to worse,” Kurt said.
“Won’t argue with you there. Still, I need to deal with this.”
A few tourists walked along the aisle, snapping photos with each step. That was New York for you: tourists amidst locals, even in a house of worship. Wasn’t that what I loved about New York? The idea that one could disappear amid a horde of people, never to be found again?
But no one could outrun their past forever -- not even me.
“Take the time you need,” Kurt said. “You’ll have the firm’s services at your disposal. But Jesse, what do you really expect to gain here?”
“To help salvage the Academy’s reputation, frankly. Despite everything that happened there, I’ll always be in their debt. That’s the fucked up part of it, when you think about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Kids from my neighborhood don’t usually don’t do much with their lives,” I explained. “The girls get pregnant. The boys take the same kind of jobs their fathers had -- if they’re lucky. Me? By a stroke of luck, I was born smart.”
“And?”
“And it was the Academy that brought out the best in me. It was the Academy that got me into NYU and into a career that put a roof over my head. I don’t look fondly on what happened between Bobby and me. But at the same time, I still realize that New Hope Academy was one of the best things that ever happened to me.”
“And you really think that going back there is a wise decision?”
“No, I’m not. But if there’s anything I’ve learned in the past few years -- anything I’ve learned from working with you -- it’s that sometimes, you need to throw caution to the wind and go on the offensive.”
“I’ve taught you well,” Kurt said. “But are you
sure
about this?”
“No, I’m not. But that’s never stopped me before.”
We sat in the pews for a little while longer, then decided it was time to leave. I assumed Kurt wanted to get back to the office, but that wasn’t his plan. Instead, we had one more stop on his itinerary -- his place.