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Mrs. Maitland's SAD Valentine

By: patientlee



Sincere thanks to MSTarot, Privates1stclass, and SecondCircle for mentoring me and making this a better story. I appreciate every minute of your time.

This is my Valentine's Day 2014 contest entry. Vote, if you like. Thanks for reading.

Part 1: The New Job

"Saturday will be sunny and unseasonably warm for the end of September," the perky blonde in front of the weather map said.

"Awesome!" Brad Spencer said back to her. "Playoffs are on Saturday."

Brad had gotten home from work and turned on the TV in the living room, just in time to catch the weather recap at the end of the eleven o'clock news on Channel 4.

He was still a little pissed that his new job would keep him from making it to softball practice on Thursday, but he was grateful just to have the job. It wasn't easy for a guy like him to find a good, steady job, especially with benefits.

He went to the kitchen to grab a beer and a bag of pretzels, and then plopped on the couch, spilling some of the beer on his pants. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the porn site he kept bookmarked.

"The best part of living alone and working second shift. Porn in the living room, and I don't have to get up in the morning," he said out loud. "If I could figure out how to get this on the big screen, life would be perfect."

He scrolled through the new videos until he found a girl-on-girl scene that made his cock stir. He liked lesbian porn, especially when they really looked like they were into each other. He ate his pretzels while he watched, quickly losing interest in the scene.

"Fuckin' porn stars. Shouldn't they be able to pretend they like each other?" he muttered as he watched their tongues practically sword fighting in what was supposed to be a kiss.

He selected and rejected another and another until he finally settled on a sweet massage scene in which a barely-legal blonde in pigtails lay on her stomach on the table, naked and blindfolded. The hot MILF that was massaging her back stood near Blondie's head, still fully clothed. She slid her oiled hands down to Blondie's ass and slowly rubbed the muscles beneath her skin When her hands reversed to slide back up her spine, the masseuse slipped her finger between Blondie's ass cheeks, making her shudder as her finger grazed her anus.

"I like where this one is going," Brad said to the empty room. He put his pretzels aside, and drained the rest of the beer can in one gulp. He paused the video and walked to the small bathroom to take a piss before he got too hard to pee. He didn't bother to wash his hands afterward, and he walked back to the couch with his cock in his hand.

He started the video again, and began to stroke.

In the video the masseuse leaned down to Blondie's ear and whispered, just loudly enough to hear, "Michelle, you can turn over now."

The camera cut to Michelle, still blindfolded and lying on her back with pools of massage oil trickling down her body. Brad's erection jumped to full hardness as soon as he saw her tits. They were on the smallish side, but her pink nipples jutted out like erasers on those giant pencils they sold in souvenir shops. The camera slowly moved lower and zoomed in on her completely bald pussy. Her soft, pink lips peeked out from between her slightly parted legs, a sight that caused Brad to moan while he tightened his fist around his cock.

In the next shot the camera man was standing behind Blondie's head. While she lay there on display, the masseuse stepped into the shot at the foot of the table, now completely naked and glistening with oil as well. He moaned out loud, imagining that the oil smelled like exotic spices.

Brad paused the video for a moment to examine the masseuse's body, comparing it to her "client's." As enticing as Blondie's tight, little body was, the masseuse's exuded womanhood. Her tits were heavy and full without sagging. Her stomach was slim, but not skinny like Blondie's. Her curvaceous hips and rounded bottom filled out her hourglass figure. The difference was striking. Although Blondie had to be of legal age to appear in the video, she looked like a child next to the sensuous woman that was massaging her.

She placed her oiled palms on Blondie's thighs and began rubbing her hands up and down the length of her legs. As she bent to reach higher on her body, her breasts grazed the tops of Blondie's feet, making both women shudder.

Brad looked at the time left on the video— eight minutes, twelve seconds. "Yep," he thought. "I'll be done by then."

Leaving her hands on Blondie's stomach, she moved around the table to stand near her head. Brad began to stroke faster as she brought her oiled hands up over Blondie's tits. When they trailed over her nipples, she whispered again, "Oh, Michelle. You're so ready for me, aren't you?"

Michelle's only response was a small whimper. Brad pinched right under the spongy head of his cock, sending a jolt down through his balls. The masseuse bent a little bit, allowing her nipple to brush Blondie's lips. She stuck her tongue out, and found the nipple in front of her. She tried to suck it into her mouth, but the masseuse stepped away and helped Michelle move herself closer to the foot of the table.

She slid her hands up her thighs, sliding them inward as they got closer to her body. When she reached her pussy, she dipped her first two fingers into the cleft between her legs, moistening her fingertips. She used the fingertips of her other hand to spread Michelle's lips. When the camera zoomed in for a close shot, Brad could see a droplet of her wetness threatening to drip to the massage table.

Brad stroked faster, imagining himself standing at the end of the table, getting ready to plunge his cock into her tight pussy while the masseuse lowered her pussy over Blondie's face. A loud moan from the blonde brought him back to the video, and he watched the MILF place her tongue between Michelle's swollen pussy lips and begin licking her clit.

He closed his eyes, feeling his balls start to tighten. He was breathing fast and hard. His hand pounded up and down on his cock, making a rhythmic slapping noise. Slippery pre-cum spilled out of the head, and dripped onto his hand. The lubrication reminded him of the massage oil, and he opened his eyes to watch the video once again.

The masseuse's mouth was planted deeply into her pussy. Her head made slight movements up and down as she licked Blondie's clit. Her first two fingers pistoned in and out of her pussy.

Blondie's hands slid over her own tits, and she began pinching her nipples with her thumbs and forefingers. Brad could see the flush spreading across her chest, and he knew that she would come soon. When her hips began to buck against the masseuse's mouth, Brad's hips began bucking with hers. As hard as he tried, he couldn't hold out until Blondie came on the screen. His body went rigid, his eyes closed, and he began to spurt all over his hand and his pants.

As he relaxed, he heard Blondie cry out as she came for her masseuse. Brad opened his eyes in time to catch the black screen with the web address where the full video could be found. He clicked to find the name of the actresses, and took a screenshot for future reference.

Brad cleaned himself off with the tissues he kept on the end table, just for that purpose. He went to the kitchen to recycle his beer can and throw away the trash. He grabbed another beer from the fridge, sat down on the couch, and clicked into Facebook to see what his friends were up to.

~~~~~

As he pulled the industrial garbage can behind him to the science wing, Brad saw the huge banner at the end of the hall advertising the Homecoming events for the next week.

"Ugh," he said. Homecoming wasn't for guys like him, and he had always resented the way the school shoved it in his face. His grades were never good enough to last long on any school sports team, so even though he was pretty athletic, he was never one of the jocks.

He remembered the pep rallies, especially the ones for Homecoming. Sitting in the bleachers with the other guys with long hair and Metallica t-shirts, he had resented being forced to watch the Parade of the Popular around the gym. The worst was the introduction of the Homecoming Court. They wouldn't be crowned until the dance after the big game, but it was at the pep rally that the student body would pay homage to their elite.

The tradition at East Lake was to have the girls dress in the boys' football uniforms and the boys to dress in old prom dresses and plastic tiaras. They'd be introduced by the cheerleading captain who would read a nauseating description of all the fabulous things each court member had been doing for the last three years. Each couple would take a victory lap around the gym, waving and allowing everyone the opportunity to be jealous.

Definitely not for a guy like Brad.

He shrugged off his disgust and continued to the biology classrooms, the highlight of his night. Sure, these classrooms were messier than some of the others, but the animals in the cages lining the walls of the rooms provided a little bit of entertainment in his otherwise dull evening.

His favorite was the bearded dragon in Mrs. Maitland's room. According to the tag on his cage, his name was Marvin, and he was a friendly little fucker, as far as Brad could tell. As Brad walked up and down the rows of desks to sweep the floor, Marvin would run back and forth in his cage, like he was trying to follow him. Brad found himself working faster in Maitland's classroom than the other rooms, just to allow himself a couple of minutes to "chat" with the crazy lizard.

"You wanna come out and play, dontcha?" he said in a sing-song voice. "Marvin likes people, doesn't he?"

Brad looked at the lock on the cage, and wished for the hundredth time that his master key would open it. "One of these days I gotta get down here when Mrs. Maitland is still here. Maybe she'd let me hold you, Marvin," he said to the lizard. "Do ya think she would?"

Brad had graduated from East Lake High three years before, but Mrs. Maitland was new. New to East Lake anyway. He had only met Mrs. Maitland once, during the first week of school. He hadn't paid too much attention to her, except to wonder why someone her age was starting at a new school. He wasn't even sure what "her age" was, but the lines that crinkled around her blue eyes when she smiled and her salt-and-pepper hair told him that her years in high school were far behind her.

He remembered the teacher that she had replaced though. Brad had been in Mr. Morgan's class for biology two years in a row. He still suspected that he only passed the second time because Morgan couldn't stand to have him in class again.

"What a prick," Brad muttered under his breath as he picked up the garbage can and got back to work.

~~~~~

Brad arrived at the bowling alley just after seven o'clock. He looked around for his buddy Kris, who was already set up and ready to go. He had placed a pitcher of Miller Lite on the counter behind them, and was pouring it into clear plastic cups when Brad arrived.

"Hey, man. What's goin' on?" Brad asked.

"Hey, Brad. Not too much. Did you see the girls on your way in?"

"No. I thought they'd be here later," Brad said.

"Yeah. Me too, but Jenny got off work early. She brought Tanya with her. They just ran to the ladies' room. You'll like her," he said. He lowered his voice, and put the back of his hand alongside his mouth. "Huge tits, and she'll be offering to blow ya after two beers. "

"Nice," Brad said. He hadn't been with a girl for a long time. He had gone to school with plenty of girls that were known for using their oral abilities to boost their popularity, but he didn't have much to offer girls like that. He wondered what this girl's motivation might be.

But he wasn't going to ask.

As he tied his bowling shoes, Brad realized that he hadn't bowled in weeks. Working in the evenings kept him from joining the Thursday night league. He hadn't thought about how much he missed it until that moment.

"Fuckin' job," he thought to himself.

He turned to see the girls approaching. He hadn't met Tanya before, and she was a pleasant surprise. Short, spiky, dark hair, pretty face, nice, tight body with the huge tits that Kris had promised. Definitely a pleasant surprise.

He didn't realize that he was staring until she spoke.

"Brad? Hello?"

"Oh, uh, hi," he stammered, blushing.

Fortunately, Kris saved him by putting a beer in each of their hands, and announcing that Tanya would bowl first.

Tanya stepped up to grab a bright orange ball, almost slipping in the rented bowling shoes.

"I totally suck at this," she called over her shoulder. "Just warnin' ya."

"I totally don't care," Brad said to Kris with his eyes on her ass as she bent and launched the ball. She remained frozen in that position, watching the ball as rolled toward the gutter.

"Good one," he called to her.

"Good view, anyway," he said under his breath.

Brad stepped up behind her for her second ball, and offered his assistance. He put his hands on her hips and offered some pointers. He held her arm and demonstrated how she should roll the ball, allowing his hand to graze her ass while he made his point.

When he leaned forward, closer to her body, he could smell the heady scent of lavender in her hair. He resisted the urge to scoop her body into his before she launched her second ball.

This time she hit two pins, which caused her to jump up and down with her arms raised in victory on her way back to her seat.

As Brad watched her breasts bouncing in celebration, he thought, "My god. I love bowling."

After the eighth frame and the second pitcher, Tanya announced that she was going out to smoke. "You coming with?" she asked Brad.

They grabbed their jackets and headed out into the chilly night. Tanya lit her cigarette and offered it to Brad.

"No, thanks. I don't smoke."

"Yeah. I keep saying I'm going to quit, but I never do," she said.

"C'mon," Brad said. "Let's walk a little."

He took her hand and led her around the side of the building. There was an Applebee's restaurant facing that side, and they continued to walk to the back side of the building where it was darker. Tanya finished her cigarette and crushed it under her left Ugg.

"So, what are we doing back here, Brad?" Tanya asked. "I don't think we're supposed to be here."

"Well, I've had a couple of beers, so I needed some air."

He looked down at her, trying to catch a glimpse down her top, but she held her leather jacket tightly around her.

"Are you checking me out, Brad?" she asked with a smile.

"May-be," he said.

He stepped closer to her, backing her into the cold brick. Placing his palm against the wall, he leaned in to kiss her. She tipped her head back to meet his kiss. She opened her mouth to accept his tongue and reached her arms up around his neck. She arched her back, pressing her breasts into his body.

He brought his hand to the side of her face, and then allowed it to slide down to cup her breast. His tongue probed her mouth. He knew that she could feel his erection pressing into her stomach. He wondered if what Kris had said about the blow jobs was true.

As the kiss deepened, her hand slid from his hip to his fly, feeling the bulge forming there. "Does this guy need some air too?" she asked.

Brad chuckled at her corny question. "Yep. That's why we're back here. I didn't want the families coming out of Applebee's seeing you touching me there."

She giggled and fumbled with his belt.

"Whatcha doin'?" he asked with a grin.

"Nuthin'," she answered with an even bigger smile as she pulled down his zipper.

"Need some help?" He unfastened the button on his jeans and reached out to stroke her cheek.

She reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock, hard and ready. Brad knew it was just your everyday, average, white-boy dick, but Tanya put on a good show of telling him how long and thick it looked. He had enough beer in him to let her words stroke his ego.

A chilly, late-October breeze swept the dried leaves over the pavement in the parking lot. Brad's cock was dripping pre-cum, and when cool air met wet skin, it made him shiver.

"It's a little cold out here," he said. "I bet it's nice and warm in your mouth."

Instead of answering, Tanya crouched down in front of him and took his cock all the way into her mouth. She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows, as if to ask, "Better?"

"Oh, yeah. Nice and warm," he groaned.

Tanya began to lick his cock from the base all the way to the tip, stopping to collect his warm pre-cum with the tip of her tongue. As she licked his slit, he moaned again.

When she pulled her head back, she exposed his completely wet cock to the cold air, causing another shiver as she continued to lick the underside of his shaft. He placed his hands in her hair and pulled her head back into his pelvis. She pulled back, he pulled her forward. Over and over he felt the cold air attacking the warm saliva on his cock, and more warm saliva fighting back.

"Oh my god, baby. You're gonna make me come."

She put her hand into his boxers, and put her hand around his balls. She caressed the skin of his scrotum with her thumb and tugged gently on his pubic hair.

"You're driving me wild, baby. Pull my hair again," he said. "Not too hard. Oh, yeah. Suck my cock."

He could feel the pressure building around the base of his cock, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold on for long. He stroked her hair as she pushed and pulled her mouth along his cock.

She looked up at him and smiled around his cock as he made eye contact with her. That smile pushed him right to the edge.

"Oh, baby. It's been so long. I'm gonna come in your mouth. Oh my god," he moaned.

His balls contracted, and his cock began to spasm against her tongue. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue to catch his cum. He took his hand and pushed the tip of his cock against the middle of her tongue. He liked the roughness of her taste buds on the tip of his cock and then the slipperiness of his cum.

When he finished spurting his cum in her mouth, she looked him in the eye and swallowed. She tucked his cock back into his pants as she rose to her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

He kissed her back, zipped up, and took her by the hand, leading her back into the bowling alley.

When he got home later that evening, he thought about Tanya. She was cute and fun and a good cocksucker. "I should give her a call sometime," he thought to himself as he settled onto the couch with a beer and checked his Facebook.

~~~~~

The problem with working second shift was that Brad generally spent his day dreading going to work, which kept him from getting too much done around the house. He usually slept late since he stayed up half the night playing video games and watching porn. By the time he got up, it was lunchtime.

After a week of Indian summer the last week in October, the grass had gone through one, last growth spurt. He figured he'd better get out there and mow his lawn and his mother's lawn before George started to bitch. He hoped that this would be the last time he'd have to mow before winter even though it was nice just to be outside.

He put on his headphones and cranked up some Slipknot before starting the mower. Just as he made his first pass through the front yard, the sun broke through the clouds. He stopped walking for a moment, closed his eyes, and tipped his head back to let the sun shine on his face. He'd been feeling a little bit restless recently, but the sun felt warm and good, and it energized him.

He made quick work of his own lawn before zipping through his mother's small yard as well. He was almost disappointed when he was done, but it was getting late. He had to be at the school at quarter of three in order to start on time.


Mrs. Maitland's SAD Valentine



Brad was putting the push mower back in the shed when his mother called across the trailer park that she had made lunch for him. Their trailers were on opposite sides of the common area. Until last May he had lived with his mother in her trailer. Until George had moved in, that was.

"I made ham sandwiches," his mother yelled, loudly enough for the whole trailer park to hear.

"I'll be right there," he yelled back. He stowed the mower away, hoping it would stay there until spring, and then walked across the common area to his mother's trailer. He hoped George wasn't there. He liked him well enough, but he wasn't in the mood to listen to George pretending that he was Brad's father.

George was sitting at the table when he arrived. Brad's good mood went downhill in a hurry. George looked up at the scowl on Brad's face and said, "Who pissed in your Cheerios?"

"Huh?" Brad asked. "Oh. Nobody. Nothing. I'm fine." He sat down and took a bite of the sandwich his mother placed in front of him. He made a face as he swallowed.

"What's wrong?" George asked him.

"Tastes funny. Did you check the date on this ham?" he asked his mother as he inspected the sandwich.

"It's fine. I bought it yesterday," she said.

Brad sniffed at the sandwich one more time before getting up to get a Coke out of the fridge. As he reached for the can, he spotted the jar of Miracle Whip on the second shelf, right next to George's Genny Lights.

"Miracle Whip? You've got to be fuckin" kidding! Is that why my sandwich tastes like shit?"

"Bradley, please. Your language.

"George likes Miracle Whip, so I buy that now," she said.

"It's disgusting. Can't you buy regular mayo for me?"

"Honey, you don't..."

George interrupted, "You don't live here anymore, Brad. If you want regular mayo, buy it yourself for your own house."

He knew that he shouldn't be as annoyed as he felt, but he couldn't help himself.

"You know what, George? I just mowed your fuckin' lawn. You could repay me by not being such a tool," he said as he got out of the chair, threw his sandwich in the garbage, and stormed out of the trailer, slamming the door behind him.

He heard George yelling behind him, but couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Why the fuck does he hafta be on my case all the time? He's not my fuckin' father," he said out loud as he stormed back to his own trailer.

He threw his Easy Mac in the microwave, and took a piss while he was waiting for it to cook. His mood was foul now, and he thought seriously about having a beer with his lunch. He looked at the clock. He had to leave in just over an hour. "Crap," he thought. "I can't fuckin' do that."

Brad tossed the pile of laundry onto the other end of the couch, and sat down with his lunch. He brooded aloud as he shoved forkfuls of macaroni into his mouth.

"My mother doesn't give a fuck about me. She replaced me with fuckin' George. She can't even buy me some fuckin' mayo. Assholes. Both of 'em."

On some level, he knew he was being unreasonable, but he was pissed.

His phone rang, just as he tossed the Easy Mac container onto the coffee table where it would stay.

"Hello," he barked into the phone.

"Well, good morning to you too, sunshine. It's Tayna. I thought you might call me after the bowling alley, but since you didn't, I thought I'd call you."

"Oh. Hey. Uh...I've been busy. I was going to call you later today or tomorrow." He tried to lie without sounding like he was lying.

"Yeah. I figured you were busy."

There was an awkward silence that Tanya rushed to fill.

"Anyway, I thought maybe we could go out this weekend. Maybe Friday? I thought maybe we could go, like, to the movies or something. What do you think?"

Her words fell out of her mouth faster than Brad could listen. He wondered if she was drinking or just nervous. Probably both, he decided.

"I work until eleven on Friday, so I guess that won't work," he said.

"What about Saturday? I'm free Saturday night," she said.

Brad paused, shaking his head. He didn't feel like going out. He had to go out to go to work five days a week. On Saturdays he just wanted to stay home and get drunk.

"Brad? Are you still there?"

"Yeah. I'm here. Yeah. I guess I'm free. Like seven on Saturday?"

"Seven is great. Do you want to pick me up?"

She gave him her address, and then she hesitated.

"Is everything OK, Brad? You sounded a little pissed off when you answered."

"Yeah. I just had a fight with my mother's boyfriend. He thinks he's my father or something."

"Oh. OK then," she said.

"I gotta go, Tanya. I'll see you Saturday."

He hung up thinking that he could always cancel the date if he didn't feel like going out.

~~~~~

Their third date was at the bowling alley.

Brad lined up his ball, took three steps while he brought the ball back, and let it go. As soon as it left his hand, he knew it was another bad one.

"FUCK!"

"I just might win this one," Tanya said, grinning.

"You don't need to be so fucking happy about it," he said.

"Jeez. I'm just kidding," she said. "I'll make it up to you later."

"Well, don't just kid. This is the worst I've ever bowled. I'm pissed at myself."

"Sor-ry," she said, refilling both of their cups from the pitcher of Miller Lite. "You need to relax, Brad."

"No. I don't. I don't like to be teased, and I don't like to lose," he said. "It's like when fuckin' George tries to tell me that I can't fight with my mother, just because I don't live with her anymore. I have a right to be pissed."

"I'm sorry. I won't tease you anymore," she said.

They finished the game and the pitcher, and walked to Brad's car. Tanya tried to grab his hand, but he stuffed both of them deep into the pockets of his denim jacket.

She tried again in the car. This time she reached for his zipper instead of his hand. This time he didn't try to stop her.

By the time they reached the first stoplight, she had gotten his fly unzipped and had started to work on the button. With the car stopped at the light, he gave her a hand, unfastening the stubborn button and pulling his cock out of his pants.

"A mobile hand job?" he asked.

"If you'd like. Or I could blow you. It's up to you."

"Well, blow me then."

The light turned green, and she lowered her head into his lap, taking his slightly aroused cock into her mouth.

"Only a little interested, huh?" she said with her mouth still full of cock.

"Suck it and see, sweetheart," he said.

She responded by taking him all the way into her mouth and sucking him gently as he hardened against her tongue. She flicked her tongue up and down his length.

The bowling alley was only a few miles from the trailer park, and by the time he was fully erect, they were in his driveway.

He didn't bother to zip up, which surprised Tanya.

"Aren't you afraid someone will see?" she asked. "I mean, didn't you say your mother lives here too?"

"It's dark out, and I don't give a shit," he said, making a half-assed attempt to cover himself with his bowling bag.

They stepped onto the small, wooden deck and went into his living room. Tanya looked around the room at his mismatched furniture, stained carpet, and cigarette-smoke-stained walls. He had moved the laundry from the couch to the spare room and thrown out most of the beer cans, hoping he'd get lucky. Now that he had Tanya in his trailer, he wished he had found the motivation to vacuum.

"Nice place," she said. Her eyes fell on his softball championship trophy and team picture on a shelf near the TV. "You play softball, huh?"

"Yeah. We were league champs this year," he said.

"I washed the sheets today, you know, just in case," he added.

"You just assumed that I was going to fuck you?" Her eyes widened in mock indignation.

"No." He dropped his head and looked at her sideways, trying his best to look adorable. "I just hoped that you would."

She smiled at him. He took her hand and led her down the narrow hallway to his bedroom.

"You're much friendlier when your dick is hard," she said while she pulled his pants down over his hips. He stepped out of them and pulled his t-shirt over his head.

"I wonder why," he said.

Tanya placed a hand on his chest and a hand on his cock and started to stroke him. A drop of pre-cum escaped onto her finger, and she used it to lubricate the head. He groaned.

The hand on his chest moved to his nipple and gave a sharp tweak. He yelped, and she repeated the motion on his other nipple.

"Lie back and relax. I'll finish that blow job," she said.

She stripped off her clothes, nestled herself between his legs, and placed her lips around his cock. She moved her head up and down over his pelvis as she took him all the way to the back of her mouth. Her hands rubbed his balls, just as they had the first time she sucked him off.

Up and down. In and out. She fucked him with her mouth.

"Uhhh... I'm getting close," he said.

She lapped up and down the length of his shaft, bringing his orgasm closer and closer.

"Oh, baby. I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come in your mouth. Here it comes."

His body went rigid and his cock hit the entrance to her throat. He felt the spasms along her tongue as she continued licking and her mouth moving when she swallowed.

"I like your cum," she said, when she finally released his cock from her mouth.

"That was awesome," he said. She climbed up to lie next to him, and he reached for her nipple.

She took his hand in hers and guided it down her body and between her legs. He stretched his fingers toward her opening. He felt her wetness and tried to poke his finger inside of her.

"Wait, Brad," she said. This time she guided his hand to her clit, where he rubbed with his forefinger.

"Not like that. In a circle," she said. He tried again, swirling in a hard, tight circle right on top of her sensitive button.

"Ow! Brad, have you ever touched a girl down there before?"

"Of course I have," he snapped.

"Have you ever made a girl come?"

"Yes! Of course! What's your problem?"

"This isn't working for me, Brad. Do you want to try going down on me?"

"Jesus Christ. You tell me you don't like what I'm doing, and then you want me to lick your pussy? Oh, yeah. I'm really in the mood for that now. Thanks," he said, his sarcasm cutting through the room.

"Have you ever done it before? I mean, going down on a girl?" she asked.

"Spread your legs."

"I don't want you to do it because you think you have to. Really, you don't have to..."

"Spread your legs, I said." Brad got to his knees and pushed her thighs apart. The truth was that he hadn't gone down on a girl before. He had sex with a couple of girls in high school and he had gotten blow jobs before, but he had never tasted pussy. The idea excited him, of course, but he didn't have any idea how to do it.

He used his thumbs to pull Tanya's lips apart, and he took a minute to inspect her anatomy. He had seen plenty of pussies in videos, but this is as close as his face had ever been to one.

He put out his tongue and brushed it against her flesh. He was pleasantly surprised that the taste wasn't as strong as he had thought. He licked up and down, feeling her slippery wetness coating his tongue. The more he collected, the better he liked it.

He slurped enthusiastically, but without skill, usually missing Tanya's clitoris completely. After lapping all over, he shoved his tongue inside her as far as it would go. He fucked her with his tongue until his jaw started to ache. Her lack of movement or verbal encouragement frustrated him after a few minutes though, and with a tired tongue, he crawled back up to his pillow.

"How was that? Did you come?" he asked, breathing heavily.

His face fell when he saw Tanya's pained expression. His disappointment quickly turned to anger when she didn't answer.

"Christ, didn't you feel anything?"

"I'm sorry, Brad."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't want you to be upset. Like you are now. It's easier for guys. I'm sorry," she repeated. She reached for her shirt.

"So, what? We're just done here?" he said.

Tanya sighed and shook her head. "Brad, I think you should take me home."

~~~~~

By the end of November, Brad had a harder time being grateful for his job.

First of all, the head custodian, Dave Strauss, was an asshole. Brad remembered Dave from his high school days, mostly because he had gotten in trouble for vandalizing lockers when he was a freshman, and he had to stay after school for a week, scrubbing his artwork. It was totally worth it though. He had drawn huge sets of cocks and balls on every locker in the freshman hallway in Sharpie marker. It was awesome.

Dave Strauss certainly didn't agree, and he still held the incident against Brad.

"I don't know how the fuck you landed this job, but I'm gonna be all over your fuckin' ass every goddam night," Dave had told him on his first night on the job. And he was, just as he had promised.

The way Brad saw it, he had all night to finish his assigned classrooms. As long as he emptied the trash, swept the floors and cleaned the boards, he should be able to work at his own pace. He kept his ear buds in and went about his business.

Dave expected that he would "hustle up" and be done in, like, five hours so they could work on fixing things and other stupid shit. Brad was pretty sure that wasn't in his job description. By November it was taking Brad all eight hours to get his classrooms cleaned.

"Alright, Ma. I'll be over tomorrow," Brad said into the cell phone, the annoyance in his voice coming through loud and clear.

"You said that yesterday, Bradley. George is getting upset."

"I know. I know. Something came up. The gutters will still be there tomorrow. Why can't George do it anyway? They're his gutters now." Brad's foot slipped off the desk where he had propped them, knocking some papers onto the floor.

"You know George has a bad back. The gutters need to be cleaned before the weather gets cold. You need to do yours too. Please, do it tomorrow, honey. You know I hate to ask you, but George..."

"Ma, I gotta go. I'm workin' here." He hated talking to his mother at work. She seemed to think that just because he didn't live with her anymore, that they needed to talk on the phone every day. He picked up the papers he had knocked down, and replaced them on Mrs. Maitland's desk.

"Shit. A footprint." He hoped Mrs. Maitland wouldn't notice when she saw the papers.

He looked at the clock. It was 9:47. Just over an hour left to go.

He was really beginning to hate this job. Having to clean up after other people, especially the fuckin' teachers? They spent four years making his life miserable when he went there, and now he had to clean their boards and empty their trash and sweep their floors. Fuckin' ridiculous. If these teachers were so smart, they should be able to clean their own damn classrooms.

"Brad!"

He heard Dave, the head custodian, calling him from the other end of the hallway.

"Brad! I'm heading for the dumpster. Are you ready?"

He stalked out of the room, carrying the wastebasket to the can in the hallway. He dumped the trash in the barrel, once again cursing the fuckin' teachers.

~~~~~

On Thanksgiving, Brad was lying in his bed and thinking of Tanya.

They had dinner once after his disastrous attempt at giving her head. They met at Vinnie's for pizza. It was a pleasant enough night, but he just couldn't decide where their relationship was going. He liked her. She was good-looking and fun, and she gave a hell of a blow job, but his feelings for her didn't seem to be warming up.

And he was a little afraid to have sex with her.

~~~~~

He trudged across the common area, kicking a toy truck that one of the neighbor's kids had left near the swing set. It wasn't that he didn't want to have Christmas dinner at his mother's, but he hoped George would leave him the hell alone.

The gifts were simple this year, not because he couldn't afford better, but because he couldn't stand the idea of going shopping. For his mother, he got a Walmart gift card. For George, lottery tickets. The old guy loved scratching the silver crap off them.

Dinner was roast beef, mashed potatoes, creamed cauliflower, and sweet potatoes. George's oldest daughter and her kids stopped by for dessert and brought apple and cherry pie from the bakery. It was a nice, drama-free meal.

After dessert Karen took her kids out to play on the swings in the common area.

"C'mon, Uncle Brad," she said on her way out. "Chat with me while the kids burn off the sugar-high."

"You know, I'm not their uncle. Our parents aren't even married to each other," Brad said.

"What difference does it make? They live together. I'm here for dessert. Pretty much makes us family, right?" she asked.

"I guess so," he said, shrugging.

"How's the new job going?" she asked.

"I like the paycheck, that's for sure," he said. He chuckled. "It's weird though. I mean, being in the classrooms with no supervision. I keep thinking someone's going to be walking in to tell me to get the hell out."

"Do you, like, poke through the teachers' stuff late at night when nobody's looking? See what kind of shit they took away from students during the day?"

"No! Remember Mr. Strauss, the head custodian? He's my fuckin' boss. He'd kill me if he caught me doing that. He's an ass," he said.

"How about the Teachers' Room? Do you go in there? We always thought they had a Margarita machine in there.

"Hey! Tommy! Don't hit your sister," she shouted, interrupting herself to break up the fight brewing between her kids.

Brad laughed. "No. No Margarita machine. There's a Coke machine though."

Karen looked at her watch. "Crap. It's getting late. I wanna be home before it gets dark out.

"C'mon, kids. Let's go say goodbye to Grandma Susan and Grampa."

Brad followed them inside. He wanted to watch TV.

George waited until after his daughter left to start picking at Brad.

"Why don't you go help your mother in the kitchen?" he asked, flipping through the channels on his new flat-screen.

"Why don't you?" Brad said.

"Seriously, Brad. You should help your mother. She cooked all morning. The least you can do is load the dishwasher."

"George, I'm getting a little sick of you telling me what to do. You're not my father, you know."

"Brad, I'm just suggesting that you could show your mother a little bit of respect," George said.

"Whatever," Brad said, and he stood up and stomped off to the kitchen.

"What do you need, Ma?"

"Nothing, sweetie. You can go watch TV."

"No. George thinks you need my help. What the hell do you want me to do?"

"Sweetie. Your language. You don't have to. Just go sit down."

"Have him load the dishwasher, Susan!" George yelled from the living room. "You can't coddle him forever."

George got out of his recliner and went to the kitchen. He walked straight into Brad's face and wagged his finger.

"You're a grown man, for Christ's sake. You need to take adult responsibilities. Help out around here. If you can't even help with the dishes, you shouldn't be eating here," George said.

"George. It's Christmas. Please. Not today," Susan said.

"I don't give a fuck what day it is. I'm tired of your son being a lazy piece of shit. You can't even get him to put his dishes in the sink. And have you seen his trailer lately? There's shit everywhere!" George said.

"George! Watch your language too!" she said.

"I don't need this shit. I'm going home," Brad announced. "Merry fuckin' Christmas."

"Brad. C'mon," his mother said as the back door slammed shut.

It was drizzling when he walked across the common area of the trailer park. He was muttering under his breath, ranting and raving about George.

"How dare him," he said. "He's not my fucking father. Who the fuck is he to tell me what to do? My mother was fine with me sitting in the fucking living room. Why does he have to be such an asshole?"




Mrs. Maitland's SAD Valentine



When he got back to his own house, he opened a beer, and kicked the empties off the coffee table. He turned on the TV, but couldn't find anything to watch. He took out his phone to play Angry Birds, but it held no interest for him.

He had another beer and looked around. George was right on one point. The fucking trailer was a mess. There was shit everywhere. Trash all over the kitchen, boxes and laundry on the living room floor. He just didn't have the energy to clean it. He drained the can, tossed it on the table, and lay down on the couch, using his laundry as a pillow.

It was dark out when his cell phone rang.

"Hello?" he said in a hoarse, groggy voice.

"Brad. It's Tanya. Merry Christmas!" She sounded chipper and a little drunk.

"Oh. Hey," he said.

"I want to see you," she said. "Can we get together on Saturday?"

"Saturday? I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, right. Like you have any plans. C'mon. I'll make you dinner. Be here at six, OK?"

Brad sighed. "OK. I guess. I suppose I'll be there."

"Please don't get pissed, Brad. I just have to ask you this. What's your problem?"

He groaned into the phone. "What are you talking about? I don't have a problem."

"You're so pissy and annoyed all the time. Every time I talk to you, you're ticked off about something."

"I'm just mad at my mother's boyfriend today. He started some shit with me at my mother's house."

"What kind of shit?"

"Just shit. He was on my case to load the dishwasher. My mother didn't even want me to, but he had to be a dick about it," Brad said.

"Brad, I'm betting your mother would have been grateful. Maybe you should have just done it."

"Oh, great. Now you're on my case," he said.

"No, Brad. Look. I think you need to try to let this go..."

"NO! I don't have to let it go. George needs to understand that he isn't the boss of me." He was angry and he was getting loud.

Tanya took a deep breath before she spoke. "OK, Brad. You're right. He's not your father." She paused. "Will you come for dinner on Saturday?"

"Yeah. Six o'clock. I'll be there."

After they said their goodbyes and hung up the phone, Brad opened up his porn site. He was in the mood for something nasty, so he went to the Double Penetration category, and scrolled until he found one he liked.

This one featured a hot Latina jailer with two prisoners. Clad only in a skimpy "uniform" top, what appeared to be black, leather panties, black, knee-high boots, and a police hat, she tapped a black baton against the palm of her hand. The men in the cell watched her walk her beat back and forth in front of the cell.

One of the men in the cell said something in Spanish, and she cracked the baton against the bars, making the men jump back.

"Lo quieren? You want it?" she said.

"No. No," the tall man said, shaking his head and backing off.

The short man was braver. He stepped toward her. "Sí, yo lo quiero. I want it. Quiero ponerlo en su culo. I want to put it in your ass."

She ran the baton across the bars, exerting her authority, and then she took the oversize key ring from the hook across the room and unlocked the door.

"Vengan acá. Come here." She motioned toward the table outside of the cell with the baton.

The camera cut to the next scene, in which they had already removed their clothes. The Latina kept her hat and boots and still held the baton. She was lying on the table on her back. The short prisoner was at the foot of the table, and the tall one was at the head. Both were stroking their large cocks.

Brad looked at the length of the video. Thirteen minutes and twenty seconds. "Crap. These free videos cut out all the good stuff." He pulled his dick out of his pants without pulling them down and started rubbing.

Tall Man put his cock between Jailer's painted lips, and Short Guy stuck his into her pussy. There was no more conversation in Spanish or in English, but that was fine with Brad. He stretched out on the couch and tugged harder on his cock. It was only semi hard at the halfway point of the movie.

Short Guy pulled out, and bent to lick Jailer's clit. She let out a high-pitched scream, so Tall Man shoved his cock as far as it would go into her mouth. She gagged each time it hit the entrance to her throat. Short Guy took the baton from her and placed it against her soaked pussy. He rubbed it through her wetness, and then pressed gently against her opening. He twisted the baton a bit to slip it past her lips before inserting it several inches into her vagina. She yelped again.

Brad was feeling his frustration rise. He was watching a woman being penetrated by a large, black night stick, and he still wasn't completely hard.

"What the fuck," he said.

Short Guy fucked Jailer with the stick until Tall Man took his dick out of her mouth. He used his hands to slap her tits, reddening them quickly. Short Guy took the baton that was slick from Jailer's pussy, and lined it up on her asshole.

"Sí. Cójame el culo. Fuck my ass."

Brad brought the phone closer to his face. He couldn't imagine how the thick stick was going to make it into her tiny, little asshole. He was distracted enough to stop stroking.

When the baton breached her outer ring, Brad's cock jumped in his hand. He groaned out loud as Short Guy inserted it several inches into her rectum. His hand went back to work on his now-fully-erect cock.

The baton disappeared one more inch, and Brad couldn't believe this bitch wasn't screaming. She was actually smiling as she was sodomized with the piece of wood.

Short guy finally removed the night stick, leaving her ass wide open. Short Guy stepped around and helped Jailer off the table. He took her place, lying on his back. His cock was longer and thicker than Tall Man's. He stroked it while Jailer climbed back up onto the table. She positioned herself on all fours, facing him. She lowered herself all the way down onto his cock and looked back over her shoulder at Tall Man, she smiled and gave a motion with her head towards her rear.

"Cójame."

Tall Man lined his uncut head up with Jailer's hole and pushed. The baton had fucked away any resistance her sphincter would have given him, and he slid all the way inside her in one thrust. While he held still, Short Guy started to move his hips, moving his cock just a little bit. Tall Man started to withdraw, and...

...the video disappeared as his phone rang.

"Motherfucker."

He looked at the caller ID. It was his mother.

"Leave a fucking message!" he yelled at the ringing phone. He let it go to voicemail.

When the phone stopped ringing, the video resumed, but with his penis shriveled in his hand, he was done. He turned off the phone, took a piss and went to bed.

~~~~~

Brad rang the bell at Tanya's apartment at seven-ten on Saturday night, prompting a hysterical yipping-frenzy from her Bichon Frisé. Brad could hear Tanya yelling through the door.

"Stanley! Go lay down! Stanley, lay down!"

When she finally opened the door, the small, white dog was in her arms.

"Hey, Brad. Shh! Stanley! This is Stanley. He gets a little excited when the doorbell rings. C'mon in."

She stepped aside to allow Brad to enter the apartment.

"Do you live alone?" he asked as he looked around. It was small, but very neat.

"Nope. I have a roommate. She goes to the university too. She goes home on the weekends though. Have a seat," she said, as she waved her arm toward the couch.

"Smells good. What's for dinner?" he asked.

"Lasagna. My mother's recipe. And garlic bread, but the rule is that if someone eats it, everybody has to eat it. It's only fair," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "It'll be ready in about half an hour. I'll bring you a beer."

Brad spotted her Wii U and looked through her games. She had several that he hadn't played before.

"Wanna play?" she asked, handing Brad a beer.

"Yeah. Super Mario U?"

"Sure." She set up the game, and they immersed themselves, stopping only for refills, until the kitchen timer signaled that the lasagna was finished.

They ate at the small table in the dining room.

"So. Tell me about Brad," she said.

"There's not much to tell, I guess," he said. "I'm pretty boring."

"O-K," she said. "I'll tell you about me.

"I just turned twenty-one during the summer. I graduate in May. How old are you? You seem kinda young to own your own trailer."

"I'm twenty-two. I graduated from East Lake in 2010, but I stayed back in fourth grade, so I was older than everybody else," he said.

"You must have loved fourth grade to want to repeat it so badly," she said, not meeting his eye.

Brad went on. "That was the year my dad died. I missed a lot of school that year."

"Oh, I'm sorry. How did he die?"

"Drunk driving," he said.

"Oh my god. Your father was killed by a drunk driver?"

"Nope. He drove off the Memorial Bridge on his way home from Kenny's Bar. He was smashed," he explained.

"Christ! I'm speechless," she said.

"He was a drunk, and he never seemed to do anything right. Kinda like me," he said. "I miss him though."

"Of course you miss him," she said. "Drunk or not, he was your dad."

"Yeah. He understood me. My mother loves me and all, but she doesn't get me. Like in high school. She thought if I just worked harder, I could of got better grades, and I could of went to college. I just couldn't do it.

My mom tried to get me into Special Ed. in second grade, but my dad finally got her to let it go. He didn't want me in the retard class, like he was."

Tanya started to speak, but Brad had heard it all before.

"Let's change the subject, OK?" he said. "What kind of dog is Stanley?"

~~~~~

After dinner, Stanley whined at the door to go out.

"C'mon," Tanya said. "He needs a walk, and I need a cigarette."

Stanley led the way to the end of the block in the cold darkness, his tail wagging as if to propel him forward.

"He's happy, huh?" Brad said as Stan stopped to pee on a signpost for the third time.

"Of course he is. He's walking with people. I'm pretty happy too," she said, taking a drag on her cigarette, its tip glowing brightly. "Aren't you?"

"Sure. Yeah. I'm happy," he said, hugging his arms close to his body.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "I thought we were having a good time."

"We are. I am," he said. "I don't know. I'm just in some kind of a funk lately."

"A funk, huh?" Tanya said with a twinkle in her eye. "I know a good cure for a funk. It has almost the same letters."

Tanya stopped to clean up after the dog, and Brad frowned again. He didn't know what the hell his problem was, but it was getting annoying.

They returned to the apartment in silence.

Tanya and Brad sat on the couch when they returned, and Brad flipped through the channels on TV. Tanya waited a few minutes to see if Brad was going to put the moves on her, or if she'd have to take the lead.

Growing tired of his silence, Tanya snuggled in next to Brad. He continued pushing buttons on the remote control, ignoring her.

Finally, she turned to face him. He continued to stare at the TV screen. She brought her face close to his and waited for him to turn to her.

When he realized she was staring at him, he moved only his eyeballs toward her. His eyes were smiling even though his mouth wasn't.

Tanya crossed her eyes, which made him laugh out loud.

"You know, Brad, you're adorable when you smile. You should do it more often."

He leaned down to her, his lips parted, eyes closed. She tipped her face to meet his. Just before their lips made contact, Tanya stuck her tongue out and licked his lips.

"Hey! What the hell was that?"

"I wanted a taste. I've kissed your cock twice, but I've never kissed your mouth, you know," she said, grinning.

"So you lick me? That's it. Tickle torture!"

Brad's fingers wiggled all over Tanya's body. He tickled her belly and her neck, her armpits and even her feet. She laughed and squirmed until Stanley started yipping at them.

"OK. OK. I'll stop," Brad said, throwing his hands up in surrender.

Tanya lay back on the couch to catch her breath. When Brad brought his hands down, he placed them on her breasts and gave them a gentle squeeze through her shirt.

"Mmm," she moaned.

Brad leaned over her and unbuttoned her shirt. He opened the shirt all the way and let his eyes roam over her torso. He slipped his cold hands into her bra and felt her nipples harden against his palms. She placed her hands on top of his, trapping them against her skin.

"Your nipples are hard," he said with a smile.

"Your dick is hard. It's pressing into my leg. Take off your pants."

Brad stood and took off all of his clothes. Tanya had seen his cock before, but this was the first time she was seeing him completely nude.

She smiled as she looked over his body.

"Very nice," she said. "Very nice."

"Why are you still wearing clothes?" he asked. "C'mon. Take 'em off."

Tanya finished stripping off her clothes, grabbed Brad by the hand, and led him to her bedroom.

"C'mon. The condoms are in my room."

"This is a nice view, that's for sure," Brad said. Tanya looked back over her shoulder and smiled.

Brad and Tanya sat down on Tanya's bed. "Let's make out," Tanya said with a wink.

They dived onto the bed. Brad nudged Tanya onto her back and leaned over her, lowering his lips to hers. The kiss began gentle and sweet, but quickly escalated into sloppy spit swapping. Brad ran his hand over Tanya's tits, circling her nipples with his thumb.

Tanya moaned into his mouth. Brad's hand drifted down her body, and he caressed the skin on her thighs. When his fingertips ran through her trimmed pubic hair, she shivered and smiled. She spread her legs to accommodate his touch.

His fingers dipped between her lips and found her wetness.

"Oh, yes. Please touch me. Rub my clit."

Brad's hand explored, fingers dipping into her opening. "You are dripping wet," he said with a hint of awe in his voice.

"Now move up to my clit," she said.

Brad's hand moved up a bit.

"Higher," she said.

He moved his hand a little bit more.

"Even higher," she said.

Finally he found her clit.

"There it is. Hold still for a minute. Good. Now swirl your fingers in little circles."

He zeroed in on the target and started rubbing.

"Ooh. Not so hard," she said, flinching.

He eased up, only to be corrected again for circling too softly. He was beginning to get frustrated, but he tried not to show it.

"How's that?" he asked.

"A little better," she said, closing her eyes.

He kept rubbing, hoping to get some kind of reaction from Tanya. He didn't get it before Tanya rolled away from him.

"The condoms are over here," she said, removing the package from the drawer in her nightstand.

"No blow job tonight?" he asked, making an attempt at puppy-dog eyes.

"Nah. It's time. I want to feel that nice, big cock inside me."

She tore open the package and pushed him onto his back. His cock had softened a bit, so she tickled his balls for a moment before placing the condom on the tip and unrolling it using her whole hand. With three downward strokes of her fist, he was hard again, and the condom was in place.

She swung her leg over his hips and mounted him. She gripped the headboard and lowered herself, inch by inch, swallowing Brad's hardness into her body. He groaned out loud. When her bottom reached his pelvis, she smiled.

"That's my big boy," she said.

Using the headboard for leverage, Tanya pushed her body up and down on his cock. Each time it speared her, she grunted softly. Brad stared up at her tits as they rocked back and forth in front of his face.

When he reached up to tweak her nipples, he pushed her torso back so that she was sitting up straight, riding his cock. She rocked her hips into his thrusts. She started to fall forward a bit, but he caught her by cupping her breasts.

"Easy there," he said with a smile.

It had been an awfully long time. Brad hadn't had sex since he broke up with his high school girlfriend a year and a half before. He forgot how warm it was inside a woman. He felt his breath catch in his throat when he sighed.

Tanya put her hands over Brad's, holding him tightly to her tits. She pushed her pelvis into his, arching her back to force her clit into his pubic bone.

"Oh," she sighed as she found her mark. She moved her hips in a circle, grinding against him.

Brad slowed his thrusts, knowing that he wouldn't be able to hang on long enough to satisfy her. He thought about work for a moment, but felt his anger rising. He didn't want to be angry while he was fucking Tanya.

Tanya shifted position, arching toward him this time. He felt a rush of heat, and he tried to hold back just a little...bit...longer.

He yelled long and loudly as he came, slamming his hips up and into her.

"Ung...O-oh...O-oh...Ooo-oh-oh..."

Tanya braced herself on the headboard once again, trying to hold herself down on him as long as possible. When he relaxed, she lifted herself off, holding the condom in place.

"Bathroom's down the hall," she said.

When he returned to her bed, she handed him another beer. They sat next to each other, almost touching, covered by the warm blankets.

"Were you thinking about staying the night?" she asked.

"I wasn't, but I am now," he said, taking a sip. "You don't have a TV in your room, huh? Whatever will we do?"

"Let's chat. We hardly know each other," she said.

"About what?"

"Well, you're a good-looking guy and an amazing kisser. How many girlfriends have you had? I mean, you must have some experience."

Brad pulled away from Tanya with a speed and a ferocity that almost knocked her off the bed.

"What's the matter?" she asked, alarmed. "Did you spill your beer?"

Brad didn't answer. He glared at her, his cheeks flushed dark red. He was breathing hard, like he couldn't catch his breath.

"Are you OK?" she asked. "Are you sick?"

He took a deep breath and said, "No, Tanya. I'm not. What did you mean by that?"

"By what? By asking if you're OK?" Tanya looked at him in disbelief.

"No. By when you said that I must have 'some experience.' What did you mean by that?"

"I was just making conversation. Why? What did you think I meant?" she asked. "I'm just trying to get to know you!"

"I think you meant that I suck in bed, and you're trying to figure out if I've never fucked a girl before or if I just don't know what I'm doing." He was shouting by the end of the sentence.

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm just trying to get to know you!" Now she was shouting.

"I'm fuckin' sorry that I don't know how to make you come. Why don't you just go buy a fuckin' vibrator and leave me the fuck alone?" He stood up, looking for his clothes. He realized that he had left them in the living room, and he started to walk toward the door.

"Brad. Sit down. You're being unreasonable. C'mon. Don't blow this out of proportion."

"NO! I'm not being unreasonable. What I hear you saying is that you were dissatisfied when I tried to lick your goddam pussy and tonight when I fucked you, and you want to figure out why!"

"No, I'm not. I was just trying to get to know you. I think you're being a little paranoid here," she said. She was getting angrier, and she stood up, crossing her arms across her naked chest.

"Paranoid. Yeah. That's it. I'm paranoid."

He stomped out to the living room and started to dress. Tanya grabbed a robe from her closet and followed him.

"Brad. I'm sorry you feel this way. It wasn't my intention." She shook her head. "I think you should go."

"I'm going alright. Don't call me anymore, Tanya." He opened the front door and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

~~~~~

The next six weeks were a blur of cleaning asshole kids' messes and drinking beer.





Mrs. Maitland's SAD Valentine



He stopped playing video games at night, and started watching whatever shit was on the History Channel to pass the time while he drank.

Brad called no one, visited no one, corresponded on Facebook with no one. He didn't watch porn or masturbate. The only people he had contact with were his mother and Dave Strauss when he wanted to bitch at him for something.

Clothes went unwashed. Bills went unpaid. Trash piled up, and his mess expanded.

He would get home from work, watch whatever nonsense was on the History Channel, and drink as many Keystone Lights as he could before passing out on the couch.

He usually woke up about one o'clock in the afternoon. He showered, ate cereal or a sandwich, and had a couple of beers or shots of tequila in his coffee.

Day after day, he languished. Day after day, no one noticed.

No one noticed HIM anyway.

The teachers in the classrooms he was supposed to clean noticed.

He had stopped cleaning the chalkboards. If there was writing on them, he told himself that the teachers should have to erase them for him.

Next came the floors. He made a cursory pass through each room, but decided that it should be someone else's responsibility to move the desks and pick up the books and trash on the floor beforehand.

In the beginning of February, Dave Strauss walked into the chemistry class where Brad was sitting at the teacher's desk, playing a game on his phone.

"What the fuck are you doing, Brad? I've been calling you for ten minutes. It's ten-thirty. Are you finished?"

Brad didn't even scramble to get up. He continued looking at his phone.

"I got called into Thompson's office today. You know, our principal, right?" He paused to let Brad answer.

"Brad?"

Brad looked at him for a moment then returned his gaze to the phone.

"Teachers have been complaining, Brad. The rooms are filthy. One teacher complained that her board hasn't been cleaned in over two weeks. What the hell is the matter with you?"

"I'm fuckin' tired, Dave. If they don't like the way I do it, they can clean the fuckin' classrooms themselves."

"This isn't your mother's house, you know. It's your job to clean this place. Not the teachers' job. Your job. Now get your ass in gear and get to work," Dave said, pointing his finger in Brad's face. "I'm putting a letter in your file about this. You better make this place fuckin' sparkle."

Brad got up slowly and put his phone in his pocket. He walked to the garbage can and emptied it into the barrel while Dave was still standing there.

"FINE!"

Brad slammed the metal can onto the floor, punctuating his reply.

Dave stepped closer to Brad and wagged his finger in Brad's face. "This is it, pal. Last warning. One more complaint, and you're out of here."

Dave glared at Brad for another minute, and then he stomped out of the room.

~~~~~

By the time he got home, Brad was in a rage, ranting and raving and cursing out loud. The yard was unusually dark when he got home.

He took his cell phone out to illuminate his path, and he saw the shut-off notice taped to his door. It was dated February fourth.

"Motherfucker!" he swore under his breath.

He continued into the house and was grateful to George for a moment for having left an emergency flashlight plugged into an outlet near the trailer's front door. Grabbing it, he went straight to the refrigerator and ripped open the door.

"No fuckin' beer? What the fuck!"

He slammed the door and went to the cabinet, where he hoped to find a bottle of tequila. In the dim light of his cell phone, he saw the Cuervo label.

"Half a bottle. That should do." He wished it was a bigger bottle though.

He went to his room, flopped on his bed, took a big gulp of the amber liquid, and grimaced as he swallowed. He wished he had some limes.

"I hate my job. I hate this trailer. I hate my life."

He took another swig.

"I have the fuckin' money to pay the electric bill. I just fuckin' forgot. Can't they cut me some freakin' slack?"

And another.

"I'll pay the fuckin' thing tomorrow."

And another.

"In the mornin'."

He got up to take a leak and stumbled. The tequila was starting to take the edge off.

The bathroom had no window, and it was pitch black in there. He wondered if he was even making it in the bowl as he peed. He flushed the toilet, remembering too late that no power to the well pump meant no water to the toilet.

"If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down. Fuck. I should of saved that last tank of water for takin' a dump," he said out loud.

He returned to his bed and finished the small bottle of tequila. The buzz quickly escalated to full-on sloppy drunk, and Brad felt the depressant effects of the alcohol taking over.

"Fuckin' Dave. Tha asshole nees to shut the fuck up," he slurred. "Iss not my fall that I don like ta clean."

Sitting in the dark, he got the urge to call Tanya.

The phone rang four times before she picked up.

"Hello?"

"Tanya. Iss Brad. Can you come over?"

There was a pause, and then Tanya said, "Brad, we broke it off a month ago. No. I can't."

"Why?" he asked, sounding very young and very sad.

"For starters, you treated me like crap, and quite frankly, you scare me."

"How do I scare you?" he asked, the pitch of his voice rising higher than before.

"Brad, your temper is like a time bomb. One minute you're calm and sweet. The next minute you read into something the wrong way, and you're blowing up. I can't deal with that. I'm sorry."

"Please, Tanya. I need ta see ya. Everthin' is fallin' ta shit. Please?"

She took a deep breath, and Brad thought she was going to give in, but then he heard a voice in the background.

"C'mon, baby. Hang up the phone. Call 'em back tomorrow."

It took a minute for Brad to realize that Tanya had already replaced him with the owner of that voice.

"Oh. I get it." He felt the tears forming as he hung up without saying goodbye.

The tears falling on his hot cheeks flipped his anger switch, and he freaked out, all alone in the dark trailer.

"BITCH! Thinks she's too good for me. Breaks up with me because I can't lick a pussy for shit. She should get together with Douchebag Dave and Shit-for-Brains Step-Father. They can take turns reminding me of what a fuckin' loser I am!"

Fresh tears ran out of his eyes when he realized that they were right.

"I'm a loser."

A sound like a growl emerged from his throat, and he jumped off his bed and punched the wall. Hard.

The first punch made the flimsy trailer wallboard buckle. He paused and took stock of his handiwork, crying even harder than before. He hit the wall again, screaming, "Loser," as his fist dimpled another section of wall, just missing the stud.

He lost control, punching and screaming over and over, "Loser! Loser! Loser! Loser!"

He stopped when his fist struck the hard maple of his dresser in the closet on the other side of the ruined wall. He heard the cracks when two of his fingers broke, and some part of his brain understood that he had just made things worse for himself.

Brad turned toward his bed, tripped over the sheet that had fallen to the floor from the unmade bed, and collapsed face-first on top of the blankets.

He fell asleep with his hand throbbing and his head ringing.

Loser.

~~~~~

On February twelfth, Brad's first drink of the day was the warm, flat Keystone Light that remained in the can from the night before. He had fumbled around on his headboard, looking for his phone. Instead he found the beer can.

After draining the warm panther piss, he made his way to the bathroom to take a shit with the door open, a habit that he developed in a hurry in the three days that his power was out. He hadn't bothered to start closing the door when the lights came back on.

"No Valentine to worry about, thank god," he said out loud. "I couldn't bring anyone here to see the punched-in wall anyway. Just as well."

His hand was still sore from his fistfight with the wall. "I shoulda went to the emergency room, I guess," he thought idly.

Just after he flushed, he heard the pounding on the door.

"Get your ass out of bed and open the fuckin' door, Brad!" George yelled as he hammered his fist against the flimsy front door.

"Gimme a minute!" Brad said. He was naked, and was trying to find clean underwear in the pile of laundry that covered the couch.

"NOW, Bradley. I ain't got all day."

"Son-of-a-bitch," Brad muttered under his breath. He found a pair of jeans and tried to put them on as he walked to the door. He tripped and nailed his shin on the bench near the door. He was zipping up when he opened the front door.

George stormed in with an envelope clutched in his fist.

"You didn't hear them knocking on the door?" George asked.

"Who?"

"The sheriff's deputies? They were just here, dropping this off for you. You didn't hear them?"

"George, I just woke up. Maybe that's what woke me up," Brad said. "What did they want?"

"This, you little asshole. They were dropping off the auction notice. You didn't pay your fucking taxes, and now they're taking your fucking trailer. The trailer I bought for you, you little prick."

"They can't take my trailer away," Brad said.

"Yeah. They can. And they will, unless I bail your sorry ass out again. I'm getting a little sick of that shit, Bradley."

Brad took the paper from his hand and looked it over. He tossed it on the coffee table, which was already heaped with dirty dishes and beer cans.

"Is that where you keep all of your important papers, Brad?" George asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "This place is a fucking shithole. I didn't buy you this trailer so you could trash it, asshole."

"No. You just bought it for me so you could hold it over my head forever."

Brad walked into the kitchen to make coffee. He dumped the stinky grounds from yesterday's coffee in a plastic bag next to the trash can and placed the new filter into the basket without bothering to clean it. George followed him into the kitchen, wrinkling his nose at the smell of garbage that permeated the air.

"Jesus Christ. What the fuck is that smell? When was the last time you cleaned this place?"

"Why did you come over, George? Was it just to harass me? Or did you have a real reason?"

"Your mother is worried about you. She hasn't seen you since Christmas. What the fuck is going on here?"

"I been busy. I have a job, you know," Brad said.

"Yeah. I got you that job, remember?"

"How can I forget? You remind me every chance you get."

"Speaking of which...That's why I'm really here. Dave Strauss called me this morning. What the fuck is going on with you? He says you're doing a shitty job, and that he's about to fire your ass!"

"Always a nasty motive. I should of known."

"Brad, I'm trying to help you. You're self-destructing here. You're breaking your mother's heart. Let me help you," George said.

"You can help me by getting out. I'll take care of the taxes. I'll work harder. Just leave."

"How much have you been drinking, Brad?"

"No more than you do, George. Get out. Now. I gotta go to work."

"Bradley, please. For your mother. Let us help you get out of this. Talk to me," George begged.

"Get out, George," Brad said, stalking off to the bathroom.

When the front door finally slammed shut, Brad went to the kitchen to get his coffee. He saw the bottle of Cuervo he had picked up at the liquor store on his way to work the day before. He added a generous shot to the mug, and drank it as fast as the steaming liquid would allow.

By the time he left for work, he had downed about four tequila shots. He was too buzzed to be surprised that he made it to work without crashing his car.

~~~~~

The first thing Brad did when he got home from work that night was to call off for the thirteenth. He felt justified, like he had earned a midweek day off. With that chore out of the way, he grabbed the tequila and took a long pull directly from the bottle.

He walked down the narrow hallway toward his bedroom, stopping in the bathroom to take a piss. While he washed his hands, he looked at the gaunt figure staring back from the mirror. The hollow cheeks and dark circles under his eyes were evidence of how little he had been eating and how much he had been drinking lately.

In that moment, he understood that everything that George was trying to tell him was true. He was losing his trailer. He was losing his job. He was living in his own filth. He was on his way to a serious alcohol addiction.

"This is rock bottom," he said to his reflection.

He didn't feel in control of his own body as he reached to open the medicine cabinet. His hand went right to the remaining muscle relaxer tablets, left over from his pulled hamstring last summer. He didn't look to see how many remained, and he didn't think about the effects the pills would have on his body. He didn't think about anything except killing the pain he felt.

He poured the pills directly into the liquor bottle and swirled them around. He tipped the bottle and drank the bitter cocktail, feeling undissolved pills flowing past his teeth and over his tongue.

He stumbled to his room and took another long pull from the bottle. He hardly made it to the edge of the bed before the bottle fell from his hand, and his head landed on his pillow.

Part 2: Valentine's Day

Brad's head throbbed as if his head were a spike being pounded into the ground by a pair of nineteenth-century railroad workers. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't dead. The early afternoon sunshine peeked through his broken vinyl blinds, a blinding ray piercing his closed eye lids.

He groaned as he rolled away from the window. With his head hanging over the edge of the bed, he saw the tequila bottle on the floor. It was nearly empty, but most of the pills were left clinging to the edge of the glass.

His stomach lurched, sending him stumbling to the bathroom. He made it, but just barely.

As he kneeled on the filthy bathroom floor with his head in the toilet, he began to piece together the previous evening.

He was about to lose his job. The best job he'd be able to get with no education, no experience and no solid references. Dave had told him last night that the slightest little thing that he did or didn't do would be all it would take.

He had fallen asleep at work again last night. Passed out, actually. He wasn't surprised. He had been drinking all day. Again.

"Good thing I called off today," he mumbled into the toilet bowl.

Then he remembered the pills.

"Fuck," he said softly. "Was I trying to kill myself?" He didn't know the answer to that question.

After twenty minutes, Brad's stomach felt better, and he stumbled to the shower. He drained the hot water tank trying to erase the foulness and shame that covered his body, caked his hair, and polluted his mind. Feeling slightly more human, he stepped out of the shower and realized that he was hungry.

He went back to his room, threw on some clothes that he hoped were clean, and grabbed the sheets from his bed to put in the washer. He saw his phone on the headboard and stuck it in his pocket.

In the fridge he found bacon and eggs that his mother had bought after his power was restored. He pulled a dirty frying pan from the dishwasher, gave it a cursory rub-down, and started to cook. He made coffee and drank a tall glass of water from the tap while he waited for his breakfast to cook.

When he finally pulled out his phone, he saw that there were three texts from his mother. Two were dated February thirteenth. The last was sent at 10:32 A.M. on February fourteenth.

"February fourteenth? It's the thirteenth! What the hell?"

He went to the calendar app. Sure enough, February fourteenth was highlighted in blue.

"No fuckin' way. It has to be the thirteenth."

He opened Facebook, only to find post after post wishing everyone a Happy Valentine's Day. After the fourth picture of roses and pink teddy bears, he was convinced.

"I slept all the way through the thirteenth. How the hell many pills did I take?"

He looked at the time. It was already two o'clock.

"Shit. I gotta go to work. It's too fuckin' late to call off. Shit."

Since he hadn't died, he figured he had to go to work, even though he felt like he was half dead. Brad finished his breakfast and got ready for work. "At least it's Friday. I can sleep all weekend."

~~~~~

By seven o'clock, his head had stopped pounding, and Brad was starting to feel like a human being again. He stepped into Mrs. Maitland's classroom, dragging his dust mop behind him. He was surprised to find that the light was on. He looked around the room, hoping that none of the animals had escaped from the cages, triggering the motion sensors for the lights.

Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he stuck his ear buds back into his ears and began to sweep the floor. When he reached Marvin's cage, he sat down to chat with the bearded dragon.

"Sup, Marv. How's things under the lights, buddy?"

He paused, allowing Marvin to answer. He tipped his little lizard head as if he understood.

"Yeah. I've had a pretty rough week. I'm losing my trailer, my mother's boyfriend is all over my ass, my trailer is a shit hole, and I think I tried to kill myself."

Marvin ran to the other side of his cage, kicking up the shavings onto the glass. He darted back to Brad, and Brad continued.

"I know. It's stupid. I didn't realize what I was doing, but I took all these muscle relaxers with, like, a bottle of tequila."

Marvin did another lap around the large cage.

"I hear ya, buddy. I guess I can't even kill myself successfully. I'm a loser, just like everyone always says."

With his ear buds cranking Avenged Sevenfold into his head, he didn't hear Mrs. Maitland slip into the classroom from the storage room in the back. In fact, he didn't notice she was there at all until he saw her reflection in the glass of Marvin's cage.

He jumped a mile, ripped the ear buds out of his ears, and tried to stand up. In his hurry, he got his belt stuck on the tiny writing surface of the student desk and almost knocked the desk to the ground.

"How much did you hear?" he demanded. "I mean...I'm sorry I'm in your room. I was just talking to the lizard. Did you hear what I was saying?"

Mrs. Maitland was as flustered as Brad was.

"No. No. I'm just surprised to find someone here. Do you always chat with my dragon when you're in my room?"

Her cheeks felt hot, and she knew that he could tell that she had heard him talking about killing himself. Her thoughts started to race.

"If you heard me talking about drinking tequila and taking too many pills...That was just a dream I had the other day. I wasn't trying to commit suicide or anything," he rushed to explain. He had finally worked his way out of the desk when the dust mop handle fell to the ground with a loud crack. He let out a loud yelp, betraying his nervousness and desperate confusion.

"No. I didn't hear anything like that," Mrs. Maitland lied. "That must have been a terrible dream. Do you think you want to talk about it? I mean, to someone who isn't, um, a lizard?"

"No. I gotta go. I think my boss is looking for me," Brad said.

"Wait!" she said, a little bit too forcefully. "I could use some assistance here. Do you think you can give me a hand for a minute?"

"Uh, sure. I guess I can. I think Dave can wait a minute."

"You're not afraid of snakes, are you?"

~~~~~

"I really messed this up," Mrs. Maitland explained while she brought the step-stool over to the snakes' cage. "I knew it would be easier for me to catch Tarzan, so I put him in Jane's cage. The problem is that we can't see them in this cage. I was in the middle of my TV dinner when I realized it, so I came back, hoping to catch them before they entwined."




Mrs. Maitland's SAD Valentine



"Mating ball pythons? Right here in school? That never happened when I was in school, that's for sure," Brad said. "I was in this room for two years. Mr. Morgan only had the stuff in the jars. Nothing was alive in here."

"Oh, good. They're still separated. I got here in time," she said with relief. "I'm gonna try to get Jane first. She's the brown one. She's a normal ball python."

She took the snake hook and poked around in the tank until she had Jane hooked.

"OK. I just need you to walk with me. She's been snippier than usual since we started the cage-swapping a couple of months ago."

Without warning, Jane turned and tried to strike at Mrs. Maitland. She missed, but not by much.

"Can you grab her from behind there? Just control her head. There you go," she said, as Brad took hold of the snake. His heart was pounding, and his cheeks were flushed with excitement. They walked the five steps to the other open tank together and eased the angry snake into the tank.

"Should I put the cover on?" he asked.

"No. She should be OK for a minute. Tarzan will be easier. He isn't so bitchy. I put him in with Kaa, the other normal ball, earlier today. When the males hang out, it gets them ready to mate."

She repeated the procedure with the hook, and Brad was surprised when she pulled a beautiful, yellow snake out of the tank. He hadn't seen this one before.

"He's yellow," he said, the awe apparent in his voice.

"He's a Bumblebee. He's special," she said as he reached for the snake. "I paid four hundred dollars for this guy. I'm hoping at least one of the babies will be like him."

They placed the snake in the tank, replaced the lid, and bent to watch the snakes. They turned toward each other, and realizing how close their faces were, they jumped back in surprise.

"I'm sorry," they both said at the same time. They giggled nervously, and Brad looked at his watch.

"Oh, shit. I gotta run. Dave's gonna kill me," he said, heading toward his dust mop.

"Thanks. Really, I needed your help. I'm glad you were here to help, uh... I'm sorry. I don't know your name."

"Brad. Brad Spencer."

"I'm Judy. Nice to meet you."

"I...uh...better go," he said. He took two steps toward the door before she spoke again.

"Brad, are you sure you're OK?"

"I'm fine. Really. Thanks for letting me help."

He walked out the door before she could say anything else.

~~~~~

Judy stretched out on her couch with a cup of tea and her journal, which she addressed to her late husband, thinking about her crazy Valentine's Day. Except for the one bad decision—putting the snakes in the wrong tank—everything went off without a hitch.

February 14, 2014

Dear Robert,

First of all, let me just say that even though Valentine's Day wasn't a big deal to us when you were alive, I found myself desperately wanting a bouquet of pink roses to show up at the door today. I can't believe you've been gone for almost four years. I love you and miss you every day. Happy Valentine's Day, my love.

Now for the good stuff. You'd be proud of me today!

A year's preparation was all it took. I can't believe that I hatched this hair-brained scheme a year ago. But now it's done. The snakes are together, and I can just hope Jane hasn't killed Tarzan yet. I should have just camped out at work so I could watch them.

Snake sex. I want to watch snake sex. Sad commentary on my life, I think. I haven't had sex since you died, so I want to watch the snakes fucking. Pathetic.

Anyway, the honors bio kids seemed to enjoy the party. Maybe it was just the free pizza, but they did get into it. Whitney brought balloons, Lauren brought flowers, and I played the love songs. If that doesn't get those snakes doing it, I don't know what will.

"Caaaaaan you feeeeeel the loooove toniiiiiight?" she sang, smiling as she remembered the events from the Valentine's party her class had in honor of the big snake mating day.

For the last three months she had been preparing the snakes for their big date. Once a week she swapped Tarzan into Jane's cage and vice versa. She had lowered the temperature in Jane's tank by a few degrees to get her body ready to mate. Neither snake had eaten for weeks. They were ready.

Although Tarzan was a "virgin," this would not be Jane's first clutch of eggs. Judy had gotten her during the summer from a breeder who had bred her successfully last year. She had mated with another normal ball python in December and laid six eggs in the beginning of April. This clutch had hatched fifty-seven days later, on June seventh, and produced five healthy baby snakes.

And then I went and put the damn snakes in the wrong cage. You can't even see them in Jane's. Why the hell did I think that was a good idea??? Because Jane is a bitchy little thing. I didn't want to try to catch her. That's why. I can't believe she struck at me again today.

That reminded her of Brad.

I met the custodian who cleans my room today. Just a kid, for crying out loud. I heard him telling Marvin that he tried to kill himself. I feel like I should tell somebody, but I don't know who I'd tell. Dave Strauss? That guy's an ass. I've met him twice, and he makes me want to kill myself. Life must be pretty lonely when you're confessing your sins to a lizard though.

What if he tries to kill himself again? What if he does it tonight? I should have told somebody. God dammit. I've gotta do something.

Robert, help me out here. What should I do?

She reached for her phone, and decided to take a chance on calling her classroom. It was only ten-thirty. Maybe he'd be there.

The phone rang four times before...

~~~

...Brad convinced himself to pick up the phone.

"Uh...Hello?"

"Brad? It's Judy."

"Uh...hi?"

"Brad, I was hoping you were down in my room. I knew it was a long shot, but I wanted to catch you before you left."

"What's up?" he asked.

"Can you go look in the tank? Can you see what the snakes are doing? I'm worried that Jane will kill Tarzan."

"Uh, yeah, well... I was just looking at them. They're all twisted together. Their tails, I mean."

"Really?" she practically shouted into the phone. "That's great! They're doing it! How long have they been like that?"

"I don't know. I just got in here about twenty minutes ago," he said. When he realized that he had just admitted to sitting around for twenty minutes, which was really more like forty, he panicked. "Mrs. Maitland, please don't tell..."

She cut him off. "Brad, it's Judy. And I won't tell. Seriously. I'm glad you're checking on them. I was worried.

"Do me a favor," she said. "Take a picture and text it to me. Could you do that?"

"Uh, yeah. Actually, I already took some pics. Give me your number, and I'll text you."

As the pictures started to arrive on her cell phone, Judy squealed into the phone. Brad had to hold the classroom phone away from his head. He smiled at her enthusiasm.

"This is good," she said when she calmed down. "I'm saving your number now. You save mine too, so you can give me a call if you ever see a problem in my room at night. OK?"

"Yeah, sure. I mean, are you sure you want me having your number though?"

"Brad, it's not like you're a student. I trust you. And actually, I feel better having another set of eyes on my animals when I'm not there."

She knew she had to hang up the phone, but she hesitated. She wanted to ask one more time if he was OK, but decided to take a more roundabout route.

"Brad?"

"I think I'm going to need some help with Marvin on Monday. I have a dentist appointment right after school, so do you think you would have some time to help me around six-thirty? I have to move his cage, and I don't really want to have kids do it. Do you think you can help me out?"

She knew she was rambling, but she eventually let him answer. With the plans set, they hung up, and Judy returned to her journal.

I'm feeling a little devious, but my conscience feels better. He looked genuinely happy when he was helping me with the snakes, and it's obvious that he's interested in the animals. I just hope it's enough to get him through the weekend, and that he'll be OK until Monday.

Signing off on this Valentine's night,

Moi

~~~~~

While others dreamt of roses and lovers and sex on that Valentine's Night, Brad dreamt of snakes and dead things in jars.

In his dream, he stood in Mrs. Maitland's classroom, staring at the Jars of Dead Things. The lights weren't on, and the sun had dropped below the horizon, but the last vestiges of daylight allowed him to see the contents of the glass-paneled cabinet. As he looked from jar to jar, he felt the familiar mix of revulsion and shame he knew so well when he was in high school.

Just like he always had, he started at the bottom shelf, looking at the tapeworms and the starfish and the other faceless creatures, swimming in formaldehyde ponds. The second shelf held the kinds of creepy-crawlies you wouldn't want to see up close, but were fascinating from the safety of a tightly closed jar—a hornet, a scorpion, a brown recluse spider.

Movement on the third shelf caught his eye. Before he could even lift his gaze, the snake's head hit the glass with a single knock. Brad tried to jump back, but his shoes were bolted to the floor. The snake was thin and about three feet long. He didn't know what kind it was, but it wasn't one of Mrs. Maitland's pythons. It disappeared behind the jars.

Brad turned his head to look over his shoulder, which he wouldn't have risked during biology class. The room was three times its usual length, and even in the dream, he was overwhelmed by the amount of cleaning it would require. The desks stretched in long, crooked rows which would take half his night to straighten.

Mrs. Maitland's animal cages had been replaced by tall stacks of papers on every available surface. Her posters and skeletons and drawings and photographs had disappeared. The walls were bare except for the Emergency Eye Wash instruction poster and the fire exit sign.

"Look at the Jars of Dead Things, Bradley," he heard behind him. "Maybe they'll remind you to come to class prepared."

Mr. Morgan? He retired last year. What the fuck was he doing here?

A projection screen the size of the front wall had been pulled down in front of the chalkboard, and Brad felt his stomach lurch when he smelled the almost-but-not-quite banana scent of dry erase marker. His palms were sweating as he searched his pockets for a pencil. He was falling behind, and he hadn't even taken out his notebook yet. Mr. Morgan was about to erase the screen and fill it with another page of nonsense words, and he hadn't found anything to write with.

He heard Morgan's voice again. "Jars of Dead Things, Bradley. If you can't participate in class, at least educate yourself with the Jars of Dead Things. Look on the third shelf. Learn something."

Third shelf. Animals with faces. He hated the third shelf.

He felt the second snake slithering across his ankles before he saw it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he remained frozen in place. After circling his shoes twice, it slithered toward the teacher's desk. This one was much longer, maybe five or six feet. Brad wondered if it was poisonous. It wasn't a python, but he had no idea what it was.

"Third shelf, Bradley," Mr. Morgan said again.

Third shelf. A miniature shark. A frog. A chick. All bleached white.

And then his eyes rested on the fetal pig. His stomach lurched as it always did. So tiny. Its features frozen forever. So sad. Shame and revulsion. If he could just be prepared for class, he wouldn't have to look at this poor little piggy.

Another snake dropped from the ceiling, dangling right in front of him. This one was yellow with huge fangs that dripped venom.

He was suddenly aware of the scent of liquor and breath spray.

He tried to take a step only to find that his feet weren't bolted to the floor. They stuck to the floor, held tight by some kind of adhesive. He could bring his foot up a couple of inches from the floor, but the glue immediately pulled it back to the ground, like in a cartoon.

A drop of poison fell from the snake's mouth, landing on the tip of his nose. Brad tried to scream, but no sound came out.

As he looked up at the monster hanging before him, snakes of all sizes and markings came out of the room's cracks and crevices. They came from every direction, all converging on Brad. Their long bodies knocked over the piles of photocopies, scattering the papers to the floor in the slow motion only seen in nightmares. It would take all night to clean this room.

And he still couldn't find his pencil.

The snake from the ceiling stretched toward him; its head touched his skin right below his ear. Again he tried to scream. He felt the snake's scales on the back of his neck as it moved across him. It was still attached to the ceiling, and it seemed to get longer and longer.

He felt it brush his other ear, and then he heard it speak.

"Look at the Jarsss of Dead Thingsss, Bradley," it hissed in his ear.

His bladder let go, and he woke up.

Now he could scream.

~~~~~

Brad's cell phone rang as he reached the biology hallway.

"Hello?"

"Brad? It's Judy. Are you available to help me with Marvin's cage now?"

"Sure," he said, as he entered her classroom. "I'll be there in a minute."

She heard his voice behind her, and she turned around, pleased to find that he was smiling.

"Come here," she said. "Do you mind holding Marvin?"

"Can I?" he asked, his face lighting up like a child's with his first puppy. He reached out his hands, but hesitated.

"How do I hold him?" he asked.

"Just like this." Judy placed one hand on the bearded dragon's belly and one hand on his back, near his head. "He's never bitten anyone, but you might want to avoid putting your fingers in front of his mouth, in case he thinks they look like crickets."

She passed the lizard to Brad, who looked excited and nervous, all at the same time.

"You can kind of cradle him against your chest too, if you want, but you run the risk of being pooped on. Why don't you go sit over there and talk to him. He likes it if you rub his back."

She went on, filling the quiet with chatter. Brad wasn't listening. He was talking to the lizard.

She couldn't hear much of what he said to her bearded dragon, but his face spoke volumes. He wore a strange half-smile, and as he leaned his head closer to Marvin, his eyes welled with tears.

"Good lizard, aren't you?" he whispered, nodding.

Judy Maitland's heart broke.

She busied herself with the cage and tried not to intrude. There was something about this young man. Something that reminded her of Rob.

While she worked, she thought about her plan to save this lonely young man.

And almost as important, how she would make sure he didn't know about her plan.

~~~~~

On Tuesday night, Brad took his dinner break with the reptiles. Since Tarzan had been returned to his own cage, Brad sat in front of each one a few minutes, visiting with the oblivious snakes, before moving to Marvin's cage. He longed to hold him again, and wished that Mrs. Maitland was there with her keys.

"You know, you're my only friend right now, Marvin? I can't talk to anyone but you, but that's OK. You're a good listener, aren't you?"

Marvin tipped his head and ran around his cage, coming right back to Brad. "And you're a good boy too. Yes, you are."

Brad wiggled his fingers in front of the lizard's nose. When his head followed Brad's fingers, it looked like he was nodding.

He spent the rest of his break watching the lizard and playing Angry Birds, staying close to the cage. He commented on the action, as if Marvin knew what an Angry Bird was and how Brad could improve his game.

Just as he crushed the last of the stupid, green pigs with his giant yellow bird, his cell phone rang. It was Mrs. Maitland. He gave the caller ID a curious glance before he answered.

"Hello?"

"Brad? It's Judy. I need a favor."

"OK," he said.

"I need you to check the lock on Marvin's cage. I have this nagging feeling that I forgot to lock it. Can you go to my room and check?"

"I'm here right now, having my sandwich right next to his cage. I'll look."

He paused while he checked the lock.

"Oh, shit. It's not. Do I need a key or something to lock it?"

"No," she replied. "But you can take him out before you lock it, if you want. He likes the attention."

Brad held the lizard for a while, and then put him on his sunbathing rock before locking the cage.

Marvin stretched out with his face pointing to the light.

"Does that sunshine feel good, Marvin? I bet it does."

Brad sat in the chair in front of the cage and mimicked the dragon, pointing his own face toward the light.

"You're right, buddy. That sunshine feels pretty damn good."

~~~~~

February 28, 2014

Dear Robert,

My plans are all beginning to work. Mwah, ha, ha!

I'm still putting Tarzan in Jane's cage every couple of days, even though I think it would have worked already. It doesn't hurt to keep trying, so I'll do it until she sheds. And if she doesn't end up laying eggs? Well, Tarzan will have a lot of practice for next year, I guess.

More importantly, the cage swapping gives me a good reason to ask Brad, the custodian I told you about, to help me out. I think he is an intensely lonely young man, and I get the sense that helping me makes him feel important. And this way I keep tabs on him too. I've been hanging out in the room for a while in the evenings under the pretense of making sure that Jane doesn't eat Tarzan, but honestly, I appreciate the company.

I'm sure that he is still depressed. I posted a suicide hotline poster near Marvin's cage, but I don't want to intrude and scare him off. He's a pleasant young man, and good-looking too. He hasn't mentioned a girlfriend, but he should get one! A little nookie to look forward to would make him feel better, I bet.

On Monday I'm going to ask him to come in next Saturday to help me clean the cages. I worry about him on the weekends, so I'm just going to keep on mothering him and try to find jobs for him on Saturdays when I can. If he knows he has a commitment to keep, he can't kill himself, right?

I haven't put my finger on it yet, but there's something about him that reminds me of you.

Speaking of mothering... Your daughters are doing well. Sam called last week. She has a new boyfriend, and she loves her job at the ad agency. I wish she'd come visit. I'm pretty lonely myself. She's busy, and she lives so far away. I know.

Sarah graduates from the university in May, but you already knew that! She's going right on to graduate school, so I don't know that I'll see her more often after graduation, but she's happy.

I will always love you, Robert.

Love,

Moi

~~~~~

Brad's beat-up Chevy Cavalier arrived in the parking lot at ten, even though Mrs. Maitland had said ten-thirty.

"Well, I have a key. I might as well go hang out with Marvin and the snakes until she gets here," he said to himself.

He looked around the parking lot, realizing that he didn't know what kind of car she drove. She could already be waiting, for all he knew.

As it turned out, he was right.

When he entered her classroom, he was almost blinded by the reflection of the sunshine off the tile floor.




Mrs. Maitland's SAD Valentine



"Oh," he grunted as he brought his hand to his eyes, covering them for a moment.

He smelled coffee and wondered if Mrs. Maitland had a coffee maker in the room. When he regained his ability to see, he found coffee and doughnuts on one of the lab tables, but Mrs. Maitland wasn't there.

He walked over to Marvin's cage, and scratched gently at the glass to say hello. Marvin was sitting on his rock under the lamp with his head pointing straight up, as if he was posing for a portrait.

"You crazy lizard," Brad said, chuckling. "You know you're handsome."

He didn't hear Mrs. Maitland entering the room behind him. She stopped in her tracks. She'd never heard Brad laugh before. She stood still for a moment, afraid to break the spell.

Finally, she took a couple of louder steps and said, "Oh! Hi, Brad. You're early."

"Hi," he said. "Your lizard is posing for me." He snapped a photo with his phone and turned to smile at Judy. "He's a handsome guy."

Judy smiled. "I brought coffee and doughnuts. Let's eat before we get our hands dirty."

They sat across from each other on stools at the lab table near the snakes' cages. Brad took a bite of a doughnut with chocolate frosting and orange and pink sprinkles and got a smear of chocolate on his cheek.

"You got a little something right there," she said, handing him a napkin. "Makes you look like a little kid."

The silence between them began to get awkward. Brad broke the silence, much to his own surprise.

"This room is so different now," he said.

"I know," she said. "This place was stark when I first came in during the summer. The only decorations were the stacks of papers all over the place."

"The teacher was different too," Brad said, his face clouding over.

Judy grabbed this opportunity to open him up. "How so?"

His instinct was to clam up, but the mention of Mr. Morgan sent him right back into that awful dream about the snakes and the Jars of Dead Things. His heart started to pound and his palms started to sweat.

He began to speak.

"Morgan was a prick." He realized with a jolt what he had said, and his eyes popped open. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Maitland."

"Brad, I've told you before. I'm not your teacher. Call me Judy. Swear if you need to," she said. "I've heard rumblings about what a nasty bastard that man was. I'm curious to hear your opinion."

Once he got going, he couldn't stop.

"Morgan was a dick, and he hated everybody. Especially me.

"He had this thing he did in every class the first day of school. He'd find one student to make an example out of, tear him a new asshole and then kick him out of class."

"That's terrible," Judy interjected.

"Yeah. He got me two years in a row since I failed the first time. He screamed at me and sent me to the office. He told me on the first day of junior year that if they still made dunce caps, that he'd have me wearing one every day."

Judy's hand went to her open mouth.

Brad went on.

"You never knew what you were going to get when Morgan closed that classroom door. Sometimes he was decent enough, but he'd turn on you for something dumb, like leaving your homework in your locker. Sometimes he went out of his way to make you feel stupid. Like if he knew that you didn't know the answer to a question, he would make sure that that was the one he called on you to answer.

"He also came to school every morning smelling like booze and Binaca. I suppose that he thought he smelled like mouthwash, but I knew better. He smelled just like my drunk-ass father had before he drove off the bridge into the river."

Judy was shaking her head slowly in disbelief.

"The worst thing was the frickin' jars," Brad said, pointing to the cabinet on the other side of the room. "The Jars of Dead Things, he called 'em. Instead of makin' me wear a stupid cone on my head, he made me stare at the jars. He fuckin' knew I hated 'em, so that was my punishment for everything. I spent most of eleventh grade biology looking at that fuckin' fetal pig."

"I'm guessing you're not crazy about biology," Judy said.

"I didn't learn a fuckin' thing in that class. I always hated school, but that was the worst class ever."

"What else did you have trouble with?" she asked.

"Everything. Reading, math, fuckin' Spanish. I couldn't do any of it. That's why I'm a janitor now. I'm not smart enough for anything else."

"No one ever tested you for a learning disability?" She said, frowning.

"The school tried to test me in second grade, but my father didn't want me to be in the retard class, like he was. Once I got to high school, I realized that the retards had it a lot easier than me. Their tests were easier, and they had teachers read the tests to them. I should'a went with the retards.

"I gotta go wash my hands," he said, and he walked out to go to the restroom.

~~~~~

When Judy had settled for the night, she wrote in her journal once again with her favorite pen and her second glass of Chardonnay.

March 8, 2014

Robert,

Today Brad helped me clean the cages. We had some coffee and doughnuts before we started, and we had a pretty candid chat.

Rob, this poor boy has been beaten down by life. Crappy teachers, a father that didn't want him to be "different," a mother with no say over his life.

I think this is why he reminds me so much of you. Just like you, he struggled through school with a learning disability and no support. You were lucky you had me. We both know you wouldn't have graduated from high school without my tutelage. ;-)

If you had been born just a few years later, they would have tested you and found out that you had ADHD. They would have made accommodations or medicated you or something. School would have been less frustrating anyway.

With Brad, there's no excuse. His parents and teachers dropped the ball. When he was in school, everybody knew about ADHD, etc. There was better testing. Better services. Nobody did anything about it.

But it's like my mother always said. I was born a teacher. Even when I was a little kid, I was teaching. I'd line my little brothers up and make them do homework and stuff. With Brad, I think maybe I'm trying to fix him. To make up for all the crappy teaching he had in school.

I joined the Tutoring Club in high school because I wanted to teach, not because I wanted it for college applications. You didn't want help. You just wanted to get your mother off your back. But we met and it was the best thing that could have happened. Long before I "liked" you, I liked to help you.

Anyway. This boy is kind of like you were. Everything is hard for him. Even just making it from day to day, I think.

Just back from getting another refill. I'm getting loopy. :-D You know I ramble when I'm loopy. Hee hee.

The teacher I replaced was a horrible man. Now I see why the students were so thrilled to see me on the first day of school. Sure, they love my animals, but I think they were relieved that he was gone.

Anyway... I see progress in him, a little bit at a time. If I can just keep him talking... Although, I think he'll get tired of talking to an old lady soon enough.

I hope it doesn't happen soon though. I didn't realize how lonely I was until I had someone to talk to.

I like him.

Well, I like helping him anyway. That's not weird, right?

*Sigh*

Love,

Moi

~~~~~

On Sunday afternoon, Brad cleaned his trailer. Looking around at the apocalyptic scale of the months of destruction, he broke down and called his mother.

"Ma, I need help," he said when she answered. "Can you come over?"

Five hours later, the house was clean and things were cool with his mother. She told him that she and George had taken care of his tax issue, but this would be the last time they'd bail him out. She reminded him to cash in the empty beer cans.

"You'll have enough cash to feed a third-world nation when you do," she said.

He chuckled, knowing that she had a point.

"Brad, you're going to have to sit down with us and work this out. We're not going to keep bailing you out. You're an adult now. You have a real job," she said.

"I know, I know, Ma. I'll come over for dinner next week. I've been having a rough time, but I think things are looking brighter now," he said. When he looked around, he felt a calm peace that had been missing from his life for months.

His mother had just left when Judy called to thank him for his help cleaning the animal cages on Saturday.

"No, no problem. It was actually kind of fun," he said.

"You're pretty good company yourself, you know," she said.

He paused, realizing that he hadn't thought of this before. "How come you don't have Mr. Maitland help you with the cages?"

He could almost hear her sad smile coming through the phone.

She took a deep breath and said, "Robert died four years ago. He had a heart attack in the driveway when he was bringing in the groceries. He was only forty-six."

"Oh, shit," Brad said. "I'm sorry."

"I was a widow at forty-four with one daughter still in high school. The older one was in college. It wasn't easy."

"I bet it wasn't," he said, thinking of his father's death too.

"Enough about that," Judy said. "I just called to say thanks. I'll see you sometime this week, I'm sure."

"Yeah. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Brad."

When he hung up the phone, he realized that he was smiling.

For the first time in weeks, he was in the mood to jerk off. He opened up the screenshot he had taken all those months ago with the masseuse, and searched for her name. He found her in the MILF category.

"MILF? What the hell? What is she doing in old-lady porn?"

Young Guy Fucks Old Neighbor. He hit play, and let it run.

The boy was dressed like a teenager in a Metallica t-shirt, Vans sneakers, and Beats headphones around his neck. There was a notice that all models were of legal age in the beginning of the video, otherwise Brad would have thought that he was actually sixteen.

He stood, holding a rake, on the stoop outside of a Cape-Cod-style house. A moment later a woman answered the door.

"C'mon in, Marcus. I have your money in here."

"Thanks, Mrs. Smith," he said.

"Can I get you a nice, cold glass of lemonade?" she asked.

When the camera cut to Mrs. Smith, Brad was thrilled to see the masseuse was indeed the star. She wore a tank top that hugged her full breasts and revealed a nice dip of cleavage. The camera followed the boy's gaze down her long, tanned legs and remained on her as she turned toward the kitchen.

Brad couldn't take his eyes off her ass. He didn't know what it was about this woman, but he was hard already, and she was still dressed.

When she returned, she tripped, and spilled the lemonade all over the boy's clothes.

Brad rolled his eyes, knowing this was corny, plotless porn, but he was captivated by this woman.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry," she announced. Brad groaned. Even her voice was arousing him.

She walked over to the boy, and pulled off his wet shirt. "Take your clothes off, honey. I'll throw them in the dryer."

As soon as the boy was naked, Mrs. Smith looked his body over and smiled. "You look uncomfortable being naked all by yourself, Marcus," she said. "Here. I'll take my clothes off too, so you don't feel so all alone."

Brad pulled his cock out of his pants, and wrapped his hand around it. He knew he wasn't going to last long. It was throbbing before he even touched it.

As the boy in the video reached out to touch her breasts, Brad imagined holding her from behind, cradling her tits in his palms and pinching her long, red nipples. As he watched the screen on his phone, he was aware that he wasn't even really watching the action. He was watching her. He was watching the lines around her eyes, the scar on her lower abdomen, the way her tits hung lower on her chest than the young girls in other videos, and her ass.

Oh god, her ass.

He wanted to be the one running his hands down her body, over her hips, down into the cleft between her legs. He imagined rubbing her pussy as he stroked his cock.

His breathing became ragged, and his hips bucked as he fucked his own hand.

The woman, this mature, sexy woman, took the boy by the hand, and led him to the end of the couch. She bent over the couch, and the camera cut to her backside.

Brad moaned at the sight, envying the boy in the video as he took his hands and ran them along the creamy skin of her buttocks. His cock plunged into her pussy from behind, and Brad knew he wasn't going to make it to the end of the video. One, two, three pumps of the boy's hips, and Brad erupted.

"Oh, oh, oh... Ung...FUCK!" he shouted as he came all over his hand. "Oohh..."

He continued to moan as he relaxed, but he continued to watch the video until the boy in the video withdrew his cock from the woman's pussy and came all over her bottom. He put his hands into the warm mess and rubbed them down onto her hips.

Brad moaned again at the sight of the cum dripping from her body.

As the video stopped, he realized why he was still so aroused.

The woman in the video reminded him of Mrs. Maitland.

~~~~~

On Tuesday morning, Judy found Jane's shed skin in the corner of her tank.

"Yes!" she shouted. "The pre-egg-lay shed!" She called Brad at home, knowing that she'd be waking him up. She was too excited to share.

"Lo?"

"Brad! It's Judy. I'm so excited!"

"What's goin' on?" he mumbled.

"I'm sorry to wake you up, but Jane shed her skin. It's the pre-egg-lay shed. I think anyway."

"What does that mean?"

"About a month before she lays her eggs, the female will shed. I think we're going to have eggs in about a month!"

"Wow. That's great. I'll come see as soon as I get to work. Will you be in your room?"

"Yes. I will. The bell's about to ring, but I just had to tell someone who would care," she said. She paused for a moment and said, "You do care, don't you? I mean, I'll feel bad if I woke you up because I just assumed..."

"Judy?"

"Yeah?"

"I care."

~~~~~

March 25, 2014

Dear Robert,

It's working. He smiles almost every day now, and I've stopped worrying that he'll commit suicide on the weekend. I suppose that I could cut back on asking for his assistance, but he looks happy when he's helping me.

And my god. I love the company.

We're hoping that Jane lays the eggs in the next couple of weeks. We've been checking to see if she's gravid, but it's pretty hard to tell if a snake is pregnant. We just keep our fingers crossed and count the days.

And to get a Bumblebee. Tarzan is such a striking shade of yellow. If we get a Bumblebee out of this one, we'll keep it, but we'll sell them in the future. And if the Bumblebee works out, I'm already thinking of buying another morph for next year. Imagine if we bred a Bumblebee with a Cinnamon or something. We could get a Cinnabee!

I'm getting ahead of myself.

I miss you every day, Rob.

Love,

Moi

~~~~~

On Saturday Judy and Brad cleaned the fish tanks in her classroom. Judy brought sandwiches for lunch, and they ate them in Brad's regular dinner spot—in front of Marvin's cage.

After his usual dance around the cage, Marvin climbed onto his big rock to bask under the UV light.

"He's a happy lizard, isn't he?" Brad said.

"Why wouldn't he be? He's got a hammock for lounging, a log for hiding, and a rock for sunbathing. No predators to bug him. All the crickets he can eat. He's got the life," Judy replied.

"Do the snakes have the same kind of light?"

"No. They have heat lamps. They need to be warm, but they're nocturnal. In the wild they would hide when the sun is out and hunt in the dark.

"Next year I have to get a new heating system for the tanks. The heat lamps dry them out too much.

"I'm boring you, aren't I?" she said with a chuckle.

"Nope. I'm hanging out with my best friends right now, eating a sandwich I didn't make myself. Life is good."

Judy was flattered. Excited, even.

"Best friends? Brad, you must have some human friends your own age," she said.

He paused, trying to think of how to respond.

"Let's talk about the snakes instead, OK?" he said.

~~~~~

When she got home, Judy settled on her couch with a glass of chardonnay and her Kindle. She opened up the Kindle Store and browsed the Erotica section.

"It has been a long time," she said out loud.

The title that caught her eye was My Older Woman. The woman on the cover looked to be about her age. The man with his arms around her couldn't have been older than twenty.

"Who the hell wants to have sex with an old lady?"

She kept scrolling, but returned to My Older Woman. She read the sample. The young man narrated the details of his affair with his widowed neighbor. Within moments she could feel the warm heat spreading through her privates. She clicked "buy" and refilled her wine glass while it downloaded.

When she reached the end of the novella, she felt all hot and bothered, like she used to when Robert would leave her nasty little messages in unexpected places when the girls weren't home, and they could spend all night making noisy love anywhere they wanted.

She smiled at the memory as she stripped off her robe and pulled off her panties. It had been months since she had masturbated, and for a moment, she hoped she remembered how to do it.

Her fingers slipped between her lower lips, and she thought about the young man in the book she just read. He had been inexperienced, and his lover had gently instructed him when he touched her. She rubbed in a gentle circle, feeling the warmth spread through her pussy.

When she met Robert, he had been the one to teach her about love and sex. She remembered giggling the first time he had slipped his hard cock into her mouth and taught her how to lick his shaft from top to bottom. When he came in her mouth, she had run to the bathroom and spit every drop into the sink.

But only that one time.

He taught her how to enjoy cunnilingus as well. She had been so worried about her taste and her smell, that it took her several times to relax enough to come for him, but over the years he had given her countless orgasms with his tongue.

Remembering the ecstasy of coming together, all over each other's faces, brought a wistful tear to her eye.

"Oh, Robert. I want to feel your cock in my mouth. I want to feel your tongue between my legs. I need you."

She continued to rub in tiny circles around her clit and thought about the book again. She had no idea that a young man could be so aroused by an old lady like she was.

"I'm forty-eight years old, for crying out loud. God. That book would be like me having sex with...with Brad!"

A flood of heat throbbed through her clit, causing her to cry out and rub faster.

"OH!" she yelled out loud, feeling herself reaching that peak that she hadn't felt for so long.

Her fingers swirled around her clit, and she pinched her nipples with the other hand. Robert had always treated her tits roughly, especially after she had nursed their babies. She craved the sensation of his mouth, of his teeth, sending that sharp nip of pain through her flesh.

She was moaning and moaning. Her hips bucked and her toes curled and her head thrashed from side to side just before her orgasm crashed down on her, taking her breath away. She was frozen in a silent scream as wave after wave pulsed through her pelvis.

Finally, her body began to relax, and she regained her voice. Her moan echoed through the living room before finally going quiet.

When she could finally form words, she said, "Oh, Brad."

~~~~~




Mrs. Maitland's SAD Valentine



On April eleventh, Brad carried his turkey sandwich and Cool Ranch Doritos into Mrs. Maitland's room and put them down on the desk next to Marvin's cage. He pulled out the sandwich and began to eat as he walked over to the snake cages.

When he saw the eggs in Jane's cage, he dug into his pocket for his phone, dropping his sandwich on the floor. He tried to dial Judy's number, but kept fumbling. He clicked Safari. He clicked Facebook.

"Why can't I just click the fucking phone?" he asked himself. "Shit."

He took a deep breath, put the phone down on a desk. Very slowly and very carefully, he put his finger on the phone icon. He went to his contacts and clicked on Judy. Finally, the phone started to ring.

"Hello?"

"Jane! Judy laid her eggs! Judy laid her... No. Wait. Jane laid her eggs. I see, like, six of them."

"Oh my god! I can't believe it! I'll be right there! Watch her. Make sure she doesn't crush them or anything! Oh my god!"

"OK. I'll stay here. Hurry! But drive carefully!" Brad said.

Twenty-five minutes later, Judy Maitland sprinted into her room, straight to the snake cage.

"Oh my god! She did it! I can't believe she did it!" she said.

She stood with Brad, watching the snake curled around the clutch. Six eggs were visible, but they'd know for sure when they took them out to place them in the incubator.

"That is the coolest thing I've ever seen," Brad said.

It took almost an hour for the two of them to get the eggs from the mama snake. She struck at each of them, but missing both.

There were seven eggs in all. Judy had placed a flashlight next to the incubator which they used to shine the light through each egg, looking for the veins that signal viability. Six of the seven were viable, and Judy was thrilled.

Brad and Judy bent over the incubator, looking at the eggs for a long time without speaking. Judy finally looked up, and said, "Well, I guess I should head home. You probably have work to do too."

Their faces were close together, like they were on Valentine's Day when they put the snakes into Tarzan's cage. This time they weren't flustered. This time Brad leaned closer to Judy. They were both breathing fast as their hearts pounded.

Brad paused, his eyes dropping to Judy's lips. She licked them, and then she parted them as she inhaled and pressed them to Brad's. A soft moan escaped his mouth and he brought his hands to the sides of her head, pulling her closer.

He felt a sudden, desperate need to taste her, and his tongue probed her lips, seeking the inside of her mouth. Her tongue met his as the kiss went on. Judy's hands found Brad's waist and then his buttocks. When she pulled him into her body, she felt his erection against his stomach. She thought about the book she had read and wondered again why a young guy would be so interested in an old lady.

The longer she kissed him, the less she cared.

They heard Dave Strauss calling Brad from the hallway, but it didn't stop the kiss. They didn't pull away from each other until he was right outside of the classroom, and by then, it was too late.

"What the fuck are you doing in here, Bradley?" he shouted.

Then he saw Judy.

"Oh, excuse my language, Mrs. Maitland. I'm sorry.

"Brad, leave the lady alone, and go finish up."

"I'm sorry," Judy said. "He was helping me with the python eggs. I had to take them away from the mother, and it's just not a one person job."

Brad remained at the incubator, trying to hide his hard-on from Dave. Judy came to his rescue.

"Mr. Strauss. Would you please allow Brad to give me a hand for just a few more minutes? I have to..."

"I'll help you, Mrs. Maitland. Brad's gotta finish up," Dave said.

"Oh? Are you comfortable moving the six-foot mama snake? We just took her eggs from her. She's a little annoyed." Truthfully, Jane was closer to five feet long, but this jackass didn't need to know that.

Dave stood glaring at Mrs. Maitland for a moment before relenting.

"You have five minutes, Bradley."

He stalked out of the room.

They did their best to compose themselves, and they parted ways with another soft kiss on the lips.

Judy walked to her car, thinking she had to be crazy to think that this kid had feelings for her, but at the same time admitting that she was falling for him.

Brad took the garbage can to the dumpster, and realized that he was happy.

~~~~~

Part 3: Hatching

Brad's finger trembled as he rang the bell. He told himself it was excitement, but the truth was that he was nervous too. They had been shopping for reptile supplies together, and had even had coffee a couple of times, but this would be their first time alone together outside of the school building.

Judy answered the door, looking relieved to see that he showed up. She still couldn't quite believe that a man as young and good-looking as Brad would be interested in her company.

"Hey! C'mon in. I made some lemonade. You want some?"

Brad smirked as he remembered the video in which the MILF spilled the lemonade on the young leaf-raker. He was glad Judy didn't see it. He didn't want to have to explain what was funny about a beverage.

He followed her into the kitchen where she was keeping the equipment for the snakes.

"While I pour the drinks, you can start opening those packages. We'll assemble the cages in here on the table, and then we'll move them to the shelves in the living room," she said.

"OK," he replied. "They're going to live in plastic shoeboxes?"

"Baby ball pythons feel lost in a big cage. They'll do better in these little ones for a while."

She put the lemonades on the table, and started putting the pieces of the heating system together.

When everything was assembled, they carried the equipment to the living room and arranged it on the shelves.

"Well, that took longer than I thought it would," Judy said when the last piece was put into place. "How do you feel about having Chinese delivered for dinner?"

~~~~~

"I don't know about you, but I could use a Rum and Coke. Can I make you one?" she asked. She had an almost-unfamiliar flutter in her stomach, and she realized that she was nervous. She thought a drink might calm the butterflies.

"Yes. Please," he said, his thoughts echoing hers. He was nervous, and he was aroused. Not enough that he thought Mrs. Maitland would notice, but enough to make him wish he wasn't wearing pants.

"Go sit in the living room. I'll be right there," she said.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a rosy glow through the picture window and onto the family portrait hanging above the couch. Brad studied it until she placed the drink in his hand.

"Nice family," he said.

"Thanks. That was taken about two years before Rob died. My girls were young."

"They are beautiful," he said. He continued to stare at the picture for a moment. "Really beautiful."

"How old are you, Brad?" she asked.

"Twenty-two."

"Oh my god. You're the same age as my oldest, Terri."

"Oh." Brad let that thought sink in for a moment. Then he smiled. "She's old enough to be my mother. This is fuckin' crazy," he thought, taking a sip of the sweet beverage.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked.

"I don't know. Really. I think I'm just feeling a little nervous here." He dipped his head a little bit in embarrassment, but kept smiling anyway.

"Oh, thank goodness. I thought I was the only one!" Judy said. She took a deep breath, and went on. "We never really talked about that...that kiss that night at school. I..."

"I know," Brad interrupted. Judy slugged down half of her drink while he spoke.

"I mean, I've liked going out for lunch and stuff, but..."

"But?" she said, the apprehension showing in the lines on her face.

"But I want... I want more. There. I said it." He gained some confidence in having said that much. He took her hand and led her to the couch. He placed their drinks on the end table. "I want more of you."

"Why, Brad? I'm an old lady. I have a child your age. Oh my god. That means I'm old enough to be your mother." Her eyes were as wide as saucers.

Brad laughed. "You're a fuckin' sexy old lady."

Before she could speak, he leaned into her and kissed her. Hard. Too hard.

She teetered on the edge of the couch for a second before falling right on her ass. She yelped and started to giggle.

Brad extended his hand to help her up, but before he pulled, he said in a very serious voice, "Judy, just how old are you?"

She looked up at him and said, "I'm forty-eight. Is that a deal breaker for you?"

"Not at all. I just wanted to make sure that you weren't going to have a broken hip or anything." He managed to say it with a straight face, but burst out laughing as she swatted at his hand.

"Oh, now you've done it," she said. She got to her feet, and started to walk to the hallway. When he didn't get up right away, she said, "Are ya comin' or what?"

He grinned and followed her to her bedroom.

The room was lit only by the fading daylight, and Brad looked around for the light switch.

"No, Brad. Let's leave the lights off."

"Judy, I've been waiting to see your body for months. Please. Let me see you."

"Oh, honey. I'm all nervous and self-conscious, and..."

"Do you have a candle or two maybe?" he asked.

"Oh!" she said. "Even better." She walked over and flipped the switch to turn on the gas fireplace on the far wall of the bedroom.

"There we go," Brad said.

The warm, yellow glow filled the room, softening the edges and casting long shadows.

"I got this last winter to keep the chill out of the room. I never dreamed I'd use it for romantic reasons," she said.

He wrapped his arms around her back and bent to kiss her. As the kiss deepened, his hands went to the buttons on her shirt. She followed his cue and started on his jeans. She could feel his hardness through the thick fabric as her shaking hands struggled with the fasteners.

"This isn't working," she said, laughing softly. "Here. I'll do mine. You do yours."

Brad stripped off his clothes quickly. He wasn't worried about getting naked. His anxiety was about what would come later.

Judy stood wearing only her unbuttoned shirt and her undergarments. She closed her eyes. "I'm really nervous."

"Come here," he whispered. He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her shirt down over her arms. Her breathing was rapid and shallow.

"You're gonna have to do the bra too," Brad said, bringing his hands to cup her breasts through the lacy fabric.

She nodded and unfastened it. When it fell to the floor, Brad hooked his thumbs in the band of her sensible bikini panties and moved them down her hips. It took every ounce of her resolve to keep from covering herself with her hands.

His breath hitched in his throat when he tried to speak.

"Oh my god. You are so beautiful. So sexy," he murmured.

He reached out and touched her arms, letting his palms run downward. He moaned at the softness of her skin. When his palms reached her hips, he moved them to the small of her back. He moved them lower, feeling her tense in his arms as he cupped her buttocks.

"Relax," he whispered, pulling her close to kiss her.

When his cock touched her belly for the first time, Judy jumped and giggled. "Oh! I guess I wasn't expecting that," she said.

"Did ya think I left it in the car?" he asked. She couldn't see the twinkle in his eye in the dark.

"I just didn't think it would be sticking out like that. And you're all wet. I forgot about the leaky stuff. It's been a long time," she sighed.

"I don't know. Maybe I forgot you were naked," she said. She reached down and wrapped her hand around his cock, letting it slide along her palm.

Brad flinched at the feel of her cold hand against his skin. "Oh my god. Your hand is freezing."

"I know. I'm so nervous. My hands are like ice."

"C'mon. Let's get in your bed so you can relax and warm up," he said.

Judy pulled the blankets back, and Brad went to climb into the king-sized bed.

"Not so fast, Mister," Judy said. "That's my side."

Brad laughed at the idea. "I've never had to share. I don't have a side, I guess."

"I haven't given up sleeping on the left side of the bed, even after all these years. You go over there and lie down."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, please. Don't call me that," Judy groaned.

"And before this goes anywhere, we need to get this out of the way. I have not had my tubes tied, and I'm not one hundred percent sure that the baby maker is broken," she said.

"Oh, shit. I didn't bring..."

"There are condoms in the drawer in the nightstand over there," she said. She felt the redness creep into her cheeks. "I didn't want to assume, but..."

She stood there smiling awkwardly for a second.

"OK. I can do this," she said to ease her nerves. She climbed up onto the bed and knelt between Brad's legs.

Brad shuddered and asked, "Why, Mrs. Maitland. Are you going to give me a blow job?"

"If I remember how," she said. "This is a nice big cock you have here, Brad. I hope I can handle it."

She stuck her tongue out and licked the very tip of his cock, scooping up some of the slippery pre-cum and letting it coat the inside of her mouth.

Her mouth enveloped the tip and she teased it with her tongue. He moaned again, and she moved her head down, taking him all the way to the back of her mouth.

She pulled off his cock for a moment, "I forgot how good this tastes. It's all over my mouth."

With a smile on her face, Judy dipped her head lower and licked his balls, eliciting a loud groan from her young lover.

"Oh my god," was all he could manage to say.

Her tongue continued up his shaft to the sensitive spot where his shaft met his head. She collected some saliva and used it to flick her tongue back and forth on this spot with no friction. His hands went to her head, and she turned up the speed.

As she fellated him, she thought about the absurdness of the situation. Here she was at age forty-eight, giving him head like she was a horny teenager. She hadn't had a cock in her mouth since her husband died. She wasn't even sure she was doing it right.

Her tongue did most of the work, licking around the head and down his shaft and back to tease the pre-cum out of his slit. When she took him all the way in again, she realized that his length was too much for her. Almost two inches of cock remained exposed.

She took her fingers, and wrapped them around the base of his cock. She started jerking, just a little bit, in time with the movements of her tongue.

His hips bucked and his fingers twitched rhythmically in her hair. She could tell he was getting close, and she moaned on his cock to encourage him.

Brad couldn't manage rational thought. The best he could do was grunt. He wanted to warn Judy, and give her the opportunity to move, but it was too late.

"Ung... Coming... Ung..."

Judy kept licking and jerking, and she braced herself to catch his cum. She felt the base of his cock twitching on her fingers. She looked up at him, but his eyes were closed.

When the first spurt hit the roof of her mouth, she was almost overcome with emotion. It had been so long since she'd been with a man, and the salty-sour taste of cum flooded her with memories and hope for the future all at the same time. She sucked every drop and swallowed before she sat up. Tears were rolling from her eyes.

She crawled up next to Brad and put her head on the pillow.

It was a long moment before Brad could do more than moan. He finally turned to look at Judy and saw her tears.

"What? Did I gag you? I'm sorry..."

"No, sweetheart. I'm a little bit emotional. I haven't done that in a long time," she said.

"I wanted to warn you, but I couldn't talk. I'm sorry," he said.

"Brad, stop saying that. It's not about your cum. It's about you. I'm so happy you're here," she said.

"I'm happy I'm here too. I'm even happier now that I've had the most amazing blow job of my life. I would not have guessed that you would do that."

"I was married for twenty-four years. Your generation didn't invent the blow job, you know. Robert was quite fond of oral sex, both giving and receiving. And yes. I swallow," she added with a smile.

If Judy's face hadn't been so close to Brad's, she wouldn't have seen his eyebrows knit together as a frown crossed his face.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," he said.

"Tell me."

Brad took a deep breath.

"I'm not very good at the whole pussy-licking thing. I tried on my last girlfriend, and she... She didn't..."

"Sweetheart, did she tell you what she liked?"

"No."

"Then she didn't deserve the pleasure of oral sex from you. I will teach you how to make me come with your mouth. Not tonight though. Tonight I want you to make love to me."

"I'm embarrassed to even admit that," he whispered.

Judy took a deep breath and kissed him again. Her hand teased his nipples. "How long do you think it will take you to recover?"

Brad took her hand and placed it on his cock. "I'm still half-hard. I haven't had sex in six months."

Judy laughed and kissed him. "And you're twenty-two years old. Oh, my. That is definitely an advantage to robbing the cradle."

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her naked body. "You're so beautiful," he said. His finger traced the contour of her breast as she continued to stroke his cock.

"You should have seen me before I had kids. My tits were under my chin and my hips were so slim, I couldn't keep my pants up."

"Nope. This is better." He cupped her breast and felt how much softer it was than Tanya's. He felt another surge in his cock as he brought her nipple to his mouth.

"Oh," Judy moaned. "I don't understand it, but I'll take it."

He moved his hand down between her thighs, and ran his fingers through her hair. His finger dipped into her cleft, and he moaned. "Oh, you're wet."

"Yeah. I've got a young stud sticking his fingers in my pussy. Of course I'm wet. I'm not that old, you know."

"I didn't mean..."

"Brad, I'm old. You're young. Get used to my snarky comments, sweetheart.

"Now move your fingers up to my clit. But be gentle!" she said.

With some direction from Judy, Brad was able to find it and to rub it just the way she wanted it.

"Oh, right there. Little circles."

After a few minutes, his hand tired, and Judy took over.

"Watch," she said.

"Judy. I can't see anything. Can we turn on a lamp maybe? I can't see anything in here."

Judy sighed and relented. "OK. Reach over there and turn the one on the nightstand. If you must."

"It's not that I must. It's that I want to," he said as he rolled over and turned on the lamp.

"Oh my god," he said when he rolled over and saw Judy's fingers diddling her clit.

For the first time, he could see her body from head to toe. The first thing he noticed was how beautiful her face was. She was completely relaxed, and even the fine lines around her eyes and mouth dissolved.

His eyes moved down to her breasts. Breasts that had fed babies. He remembered Tanya's huge tits, with the perky nipples pointing north. In that moment they were not nearly as sexy as the ones in front of him.

He continued down her body to her stomach and her hips. Lying on her back flattened out her stomach, and drew attention to her hips, the hips that had yielded to give birth to her children.

This was an experienced body. A wise body. A body that knew what it wanted. A woman's body.

His eyes fell on her fingers embedded in her pussy. He watched the motions her hand made, trying to memorize how she moved, what she liked. He heard her breath quickening and saw her movements becoming jerkier. He knew she was getting close to orgasm.

He reached for her breast and ran his finger around her nipple. Her gasp let him know that she appreciated his participation. Her hand moved faster and faster, always in a circle, high up on her pussy. Her hips bucked, and she moaned, and she came. She shouted as the orgasm rocketed through her body. "Oh my god. Oh. My. God. I'm coming. Ohhhh!"