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Que Cerie, Cerie

By: RallyWeasel



Thank you to findingmyvoice for her help and thoughtful suggestions.

*****

Cerie craned her neck and surveyed the surroundings. The coast was clear. She quickly took off her clothes, folded them, and set them on the ground in a neat pile. Wearing only her shoes and socks, she crept towards her target. She watched her feet, careful to avoid stepping on anything that would make noise. After a tension filled minute, she reached her goal. Cerie peeked around the corner of the small shed. The gravel path behind it was empty. She closed her eyes, pressed her back against the wall, and strained her ears. Her heart pounded, sweat broke out along her brow and immediately cooled in the autumn air. A distant, soft crunch crunch caused her eyes to pop open. Cerie waited until the sound was at its loudest. 

She stepped out, directly beneath the light mounted on a metal arm extending from the shed, lifted her phone, and snapped three pictures in rapid succession. The process was repeated twice more. With the muscles in her leg quivering and her hair sticking to the back of her neck, Cerie decided it was time to go. Patiently, she picked her way between the trees and shrubs to her clothes. Her shaky fingers struggled to fasten her bra. After the third muttered curse the hooks finally caught. Cerie blinked in confusion when she found her panties were missing. She looked around frantically and walked a small circle but couldn't find them anywhere. Her nerves screamed for her go to. Cerie hurriedly pulled on her pants and made her way to her car. She writhed in her seat as she waited for the light to change. It wasn't a matter of wanting to get home, she needed to get home. 

Cerie bumped her front door closed with her hip, sprinted upstairs, and into the guest bedroom. She plugged her phone into her computer. Her thumbs caught the waistband of her pants and slid them down her legs. A slide show of pictures moved across the large screen. Her right hand found its place between her legs. She was still wet from her time in the park. Slender fingers rubbed a frantic circle as the glow from the screen illuminated the room.

The first picture showed her standing with a pouty look on her face next to a shed as a middle aged woman walked her dog in the background, completely unaware Cerie was standing only a few feet behind her stark naked. Cerie's other hand teased her nipple. A sharp, quick orgasm washed over her. She felt her toes curl and her back arch. Two smaller orgasms followed as she looked at the remaining pictures.

Feeling pleasantly exhausted, she slipped into bed and closed her eyes with a large smile on her face. The afterglow lasted through her shower the next morning and all the way to lunchtime. The first classes of the day couldn't diminish her well earned bliss. Things slowed down in the afternoon. A painfully awkward flirtation from the newest teacher did create a few moments of amusement. The final bell of the day rang. Cerie stood up and with a small smile announced, "All of you get out now. Go, follow knowledge like a sinking star."

As she performed a few small errands after work, a thought nagged at her. What had happened to her panties? She mulled over the question as she walked down the aisle. She plucked yogurt and fruit from the shelves as she passed. Maybe a breeze had carried them away? The notion struck her as unlikely. Maybe an animal had made off with them? She'd heard from her more nature friendly friends that squirrels and other critters could be very capable thieves. Her satiny panties might have made good nesting material. Neither thought assuaged the nagging feeling as she handed her money to the cashier. 

Days slipped past and blended together. It was difficult to remember if Simon, her troublesome student, had annoyed her yesterday or two days ago. Bills arrived in the mail and as soon as she had dealt with them, more appeared. Cerie squirmed in her chair. She debated the idea with herself all morning but at lunch she came to a decision. In the evening she would indulge her hobby again. She looked out over her own savage race. They slept, fed, accepted her unequal law and knew her not. At the moment they sat quietly, working on their assignments. It was all she could do not to shout at them to leave.

The bell sounded. She clapped her hands. "Time for you all to go. Drink life to the lees." 

Lindsey Graham approached her desk. "Ms. Stone, I have a question."

Cerie intercepted the young woman and with a gentle hand on her shoulder steered her towards the door. "Can it wait for tomorrow?" she asked.

The pretty young woman's face scrunched up into a frown. "I guess so."

Cerie nodded as she gently pushed the student out the door. "Good, then I'll see you tomorrow and we'll deal with it then." The anxious teacher swept her belongings into her bag, not caring if she missed anything. As she turned, she had to come up short to prevent bumping into Kyle. His classroom was down the hall. He had a strong jaw, nice hair, and eyes the color of rich polished wood that were deep pools a woman could lose her soul in.

"So?" he asked.

Cerie was yanked back to reality. "Sorry, what?"

"Dinner on Saturday. Would you be interested?"

She swam in his eyes for several seconds before she shook her head, forcing out idle fantasies. "I'm sorry but dating coworkers is just a bad idea. I've seen it in action here a couple of times. No good comes of it."

Kyle smiled, put his hands in his pockets, and rocked up onto the balls of his feet. "OK, if we pretend for a moment were weren't colleagues, would you have considered my offer?"

Cerie laughed and patted a hand on his firm chest. "Yes, I would have considered it."

With a broad smile he turned and waved over his shoulder. "Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

Students still cluttered the hallway as she made her exit and headed for her car.

"It's just not fair," she muttered as she slid her key into the car's ignition. "No man should have eyelashes that pretty."

At home, she changed clothes, grabbed a quick meal, and waited for dusk to deepen into night. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she walked through the park. She kept her eyes peeled for possible locations. It took three circuits of the park before she found the perfect spot. Her clothes stuck to her as she shrugged them off due to working up a light sweat while scouting. The walkway curved in a sharp turn behind her. Only one of the three light poles was working. Several deep pools of shadows allowed easy concealment. Cerie folded her clothes and set them aside. She crouched in the shadows and tried to control her breathing. A trickle of excitement slid down her spine and settled deep behind her navel. 

As a jogger turned the corner, she stepped into the pool of light and snapped three photos before ducking back into the darkness. Heat flared in her middle. A young couple walking hand in hand passed by. Cerie snapped four photos after the couple passed. She completed three more sessions before she crept back to her clothes. As she dressed, she found her panties were missing. Her head whipped side to side as she sought a reason for the missing item. The surrounding darkness was perfectly still even the normal chatter of nocturnal insects was absent. The world seemed empty as she made her way to her car. Cerie didn't encounter another person nor did she hear anything aside from the usual city noises. Even the roads felt abandoned as she drove home. 

The worry over the missing underwear was lost in a haze of lust as her fingers worked in frantic circles, alternating with an occasional tap, as the pictures moved across the screen. She bit her bottom lip and inhaled through her nose as her climax overtook her. Feeling delightfully sated, she made her way to bed.

Her sleep was disturbed by the screech of the alarm. She rolled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. Multiple orgasms the night before, made facing the morning easy. She greeted her students with a smile on her face. Cerie even made idle chit chat with her coworkers during her lunch break.

The final bell rang. "Seek, strive, find, and never yield." Her students, looking beaten down, shuffled towards the door. Lindsey approached her and Cerie listened attentively to the student's concern. She offered several options as possible solutions. Young Lindsey left with an encouraged air. Cerie sat at her desk marking papers and struggling to find dinner ideas that didn't bore her.

"Hey," said Kyle.

She fought the impulse to straighten her clothes. He approached her desk with his hands in his pockets and looking slightly chagrined. She cocked her head to the side, wondering if she would have to rebuff another advance. It would be equal parts annoying and flattering.

Kyle held up his hands. "It's not that. You gave an answer and I'll respect that. I can't find my key to the supply closet. May I borrow yours?"

Cerie felt a pang of disappointment as she pulled open a desk drawer and searched for the requested object. Once she located it, she held it out clasped between her thumb and forefinger.

"Thanks," he said as he took the key and departed.

Cerie's focus returned to her work. She'd corrected two papers when someone knocked on her door. She gestured for the visitor to enter without looking up; the interruptions were beginning to grate on her nerves.

"Hello, Ms. Stone?" a young man asked.

Cerie's head jerked up. She tilted her head to the side and squinted. Offhand, she couldn't place the young man.

He noticed her blank stare. "I'm Wyatt Abernathy," he said.

She waved a hand. "I don't give extensions," she said as she returned to her work.

"I'm not here about that. I'm not in one of your classes."

Several memories snapped together. She'd taught him last year. He was a fairly attractive young man. She'd heard several of her younger coworkers tease one another about having a crush on him. His best attribute was his smile but he was thrifty with its use. Overall she'd found him an affable young man, intelligent but rather cold and detached. Cerie turned over the paper, set it aside, and started on the next one.

Wyatt cleared his throat. "I like going for walks at night."

"Uh, huh," she replied. Her pen ran dry. She pulled open her drawer but found only ones with blue or black caps. They wouldn't due. She wanted red. Cerie cursed under her breath, the time she needed that damn key she'd loaned it. A top line disposable pen with a red cap plopped down in front of her. She turned to look at Wyatt and found herself staring at his phone with an image of her standing stark naked in a park. Her two pairs of missing panties were sitting on the corner of her desk.

"Will you pay attention to me now?"

Cerie reached for the undergarments but he snatched them away. Fear made her chest tighten. She swallowed hard and felt cold sweat dampen her blouse under her arms. As the initial shock faded, anger surged, not focused at Wyatt but at herself.

"That's obviously not me. Showing people random pictures of women is a tad creepy Wyatt. You might want to talk to someone about that."

Wyatt looked annoyed. She picked up the pen, gripped it in both hands, and bent it against her thumbs. He was a student. She was an authority figure. It should be possible to use her position to bluff her way out of the situation. 

Cerie waved a hand. "Give me your phone, I'll delete all the pictures, and we can pretend this never happened. I hope you understand the scope of my favor here."

Wyatt frowned and shook his head. "That's you. We both know it."

She thought a quick change of gears might catch him off guard. "Give me your phone to delete the pictures or I'll tell the police you're stalking me."

His cool facade cracked. She could see the uncertainty sweep through him. He took a step forward and extended the hand holding his phone. Cerie wanted to scream in triumph. As her hand reached for the phone, Wyatt frowned and pulled back. The worry had disappeared from his eyes.

"Well, in several of my photos you are holding your phone out in front of you. It's quite obvious you were taking a picture. To me, that smacks of you participating. If the police start digging, they'll discover that I've never called you and I'm willing to bet you've never complained to your bosses about me either." He took a deep breath. "So, if you go to the police I'll tell them I ran across you in the park, you got embarrassed, and are trying hide your little hobby by making me the bad guy. Regardless of who the police believe, I'm sure the press will love the story. Who do you think has more to lose in that situation? You or me?"

Cerie gritted her teeth. She was a hair away from screaming.

Wyatt sighed. "Look, I can see you're angry. Why don't we talk about this tomorrow when you've cooled off." He tucked his phone into his pocket and left without another word. 

Cerie sat in silence for several minutes before she willed herself into action. She gathered up her belongings and made her way to the parking lot. The drive home was performed in a daze, twice she almost ran through a stop sign. The teacher paced her living room, throwing throw pillows against the wall hard enough to jolt two frames from their perches. She wiped away the tears with the palms of her hands. Part of the thrill of her hobby was the risk of discovery but she had never dreamed it would be something like this. She continued to pace and fret until she had expended all her emotional capital. Numb and feeling slightly nauseous, she crawled into bed. 

The day was a trial of patience of epic proportions. She felt jittery and unsettled as if she had drank too much coffee, even though she'd only had a glass of juice. After the final bell, she paced in her room for thirty minutes. What had happened to Wyatt? Her imagination concocted scenarios of the pictures being found and distributed as she stood in her room waiting. Wyatt's mother had discovered his photos and was in the principal's office demanding her termination. Or the student was in the hall selling copies of the pictures to other kids. Her nerves got the best of her.

"Patience be damned," she mumbled to herself as she gathered her things and headed for the door. As her hand grabbed the knob, a knock came from the other side. She pulled the door open and Wyatt stepped inside. She closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

"Where have you been?" she hissed.

Wyatt shrugged. "I had other things to do."

Cerie desperately wanted to slap the young man. "What do you want?"

"I'm going to help you with your little hobby."

She lifted an eyebrow. "What do you mean by 'help'?"

"So, I take it we are beyond you saying 'no'?"

Cerie folded her arms over her chest. She was sure if she struck him the situation would only get worse, even if the act would be immensely rewarding. "Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you do. Whether or not you'd enjoy the ramifications is a whole other story."

She kicked at a floor tile with her shoe. "Fine."

"Good. We are going out tonight. I'll meet you at your place."

Stunned by his announcement she moved to the side and allowed him to open the door and leave. She gritted her teeth as she walked down the long hallway, a familiar trickle of excitement slid down her spine. Cerie made a brief stop at a pharmacy on her way home to get something to help settle her stomach. Fear fought with nervousness for dominance inside her while anticipation watched from the side. The chime of her doorbell made her jump. Wyatt filled her doorway.

"Ready, Ponytail?" he asked.

Cerie considered letting her hair down just to spite him. Starting the night with an act of defiance would firmly state her position. Instead she nodded and followed him outside. 

He snapped his fingers and held out his hand. "Keys."

She stared out the passenger windows as he drove. She didn't want to acknowledge the presence of the young man, just as desperately -she didn't want to acknowledge the faint heat between her thighs. Her car eased into a parking spot and extinguished its headlight. Cerie looked around as she closed her door. She wasn't familiar with the park.

"This way," Wyatt said.

She followed behind him, her head on a swivel. He lead them behind a line of young pine trees and set down his bag.

"Lose the clothes," he ordered. 

Cerie paused. He was a student. The implication of that settled heavily on her.

Wyatt cocked his head to the side. "What's wrong?"

"Aside from the obvious?"

The young man mulled it over for around a minute. "Ah, don't worry. I'm eighteen, not by much, but eighteen none-the-less. Now, lose the clothes."

Cerie sighed. "That wasn't my concern but at least that's one less criminal charge I have to worry about." She heard a soft whomp whomp sound as she tugged her shirt over her head. Wyatt took the garment from her hand and stuffed it into his back. The rest of her clothes followed in short order. 

"You have a great ass."

Cerie snapped upright.

"Calm down, I've seen you naked already."

With her clothes tucked into his bag Wyatt led her around the far end of the line of trees. Cerie froze in her tracks. Two well lit tennis courts were in front of her. Couples in tidy white outfits hit bright yellow balls back and forth to each other.

"Turn around and smile," Wyatt ordered.

She turned to see her student, fully clothed, with a elaborate looking camera held up to his face. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She'd never tried anything this close to any place so well lit and full of people. If a stray ball bounced over the court's fence and landed anywhere near them, she would be seen. The warmth between her thighs grew into a smoldering heat.

Wyatt gestured impatiently with his hand. She forced a smile and heard the camera click.

"Relax," he hissed. 

She took a deep breath and put her hand on hip.

"Better. Give me a pouty look."

Cerie narrowed her eyes and pushed out her bottom lip. It struck her as somewhat absurd. She was acting out a photo shoot while naked in a public place. A small part of her was thrilled by the concept. Seconds, along with the camera, ticked away as she moved from pose to pose. Beads of sweat rolled down her back and she knew her nipples were erect.

"Now, turn around, spread your feet a bit, and look over your shoulder."

Cerie did as she was instructed.

"Fantastic," Wyatt muttered under his breath.

She lost herself in the moment moving from pose to pose without being instructed.

"OK, time to go."

Wyatt's voice snapped her back to reality. They retreated behind the young pines and Cerie quickly pulled on her clothing. She took hurried steps as they emerged onto the wide plain of grass. Wyatt grabbed her wrist.

"Relax, act normal."

She took a deep breath and slowed her pace. The student's hand didn't leave her as they quietly walked to her parked car. She fidgeted in the seat during the drive home. There was only one thing on her mind during the trip. She danced with impatience as they stepped inside her door. 

Wyatt fiddled around for a few minutes and handed her a memory stick. "Here are your copies. Enjoy."

She was on her way to the spare bedroom before the front door clicked closed. Her computer took forever to start as she slid her pants and panties down out of the way. Wyatt's pictures where sharper, better lit, and had a grittier feel than hers. As her fingers worked their magic, it struck her that she even looked pretty. Her toes had curled and her back arched before she was halfway through the pictures. Wyatt had pushed her limits and she was partly ashamed at how thoroughly she had responded. A heavy sense of guilt helped to weigh down her eyelids as she pulled the cover up to her chin.


Que Cerie, Cerie



A warm, fuzzy afterglow carried her through the next day. Cerie found herself smiling as images of her last outing flashed through her mind. The remainder of the week slipped into normalcy. By Friday trivial annoyances nipped at her heels. The weekend was filled with unrewarding menial tasks and errands.

The final bell rang on Monday. She stood and swung her arm at her door. "Storm out with shot and shell. Ride boldly." As the students filed past Darren Dalton mumbled "Theirs not to reason why. Theirs but to do and die." Cerie smiled, that young man had just earned himself some extra credit. Hot tea washed over her tongue as she reviewed her lesson plans for the upcoming week. The knock startled her and she almost choked on the Darjeeling blend. Wyatt stood just inside the doorway.

"Tonight. Your place," was all he said before departing.

Thankfully, the hall appeared empty so she hoped no one had seen Wyatt enter her room. She tried to resume her work but her applecart had been upset. She gathered her things and headed to the parking lot.

Apprehension and anticipation played tug-of-war within her. She ate a light dinner, concerned that anything heavy might make her sick. After changing clothes, she sat on the couch and forced herself to be still. Her doorbell rang and it took all her self-control not to run to the door. 

Wyatt held out his hand. "Keys," he ordered.

Cerie followed him to the car and sat quietly in the passenger seat. Each time a car passed she cringed, sure that the driver recognized a student was driving her car. When a car approached on her side, she looked down at the floorboards and turned her head toward Wyatt. She was still hiding her face when the engine turned off. Wyatt said nothing before stepping out of the car. She followed, still attempting to will herself anonymous. Cerie was so absorbed in hiding she bumped into Wyatt's back. The young man pulled his camera from his bag. 

"Here?" she hissed.

They were standing in a narrow alley. Only three buildings down were a small well-lit market and a fairly busy liquor store. The mouth of the alley was directly exposed to the street. Occasionally a car drove past. The only saving grace was the street light directly over them had burned out. Wyatt connected his camera to a tripod and set it on the inside edge of the sidewalk. 

Her inaction generated an annoyed look and an impatient wave of the hand. Wyatt took her clothes and stuffed them into his bag. She was allowed to keep her knit tuque. Her twin braids peeked out from underneath framing her face. Wyatt stood to the side, a remote for his camera in hand

Cerie smiled and posed through several series of pictures. She turned around, put her hands against the old brick wall, and pushed her backside out. Wyatt smiled and shook his head.

"Face the camera, squat down, and keep your legs open," he said.

She mulled over the requested pose. It was so brazen. All of her charms would be fully exposed to the camera. She shivered as a surge of excitement ran through her. Cerie squatted down and spread her knees wide. Shame welled up in her. The embarrassed teacher closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. The camera clicked in rapid succession. She imagined how she must look, like one of those women in the men's magazines. Her teeth trapped her bottom lip to prevent a moan from escaping. 

Ceria felt Wyatt move close to her. She opened her eyes to see his penis, pulled through the fly of his jeans.

"What are you doing?" she asked aghast.

"Suck it," he said.

"No!"

He rolled his eyes. "Like it's much worse than what we've been doing."

She placed a hand on his thigh to push him away. "You're a student."

"With lots of pictures of you naked." Wyatt shook the bag that contained her clothing. 

A car drove by, its headlights temporarily bathing them in light. The young man had a point; control of the situation had slipped out her hands long ago. 

"The faster you start the faster we can go," he said.

She swallowed and took the head into her mouth. He began to harden against her tongue. Cerie shifted to obtain a more comfortable angle.

"Keep your legs open," he said and much to her chagrin, she complied.

She rubbed the underside of the helmet with the tip of her tongue until she heard Wyatt sigh. Cerie moved her head forward and had to stop her free hand from moving between her legs. The snapping of the camera sounded like peels of thunder. Each click resonated between her legs like thumping bass at a concert resonated in her chest. Without realizing, she was actively bobbing her head up and down on the student. The sounds of the automatic door sliding open and the mumble of conversations drifted up the street. Each nearby sound felt like an electric shock snapping against her skin. Her braids tapped against her as she moved. She heard the sound of car tires on the street behind her.

Wyatt tapped her shoulder. "They stopped," he hissed. He pulled out of her mouth with an audible pop and handed her the bag as he went to retrieve the camera. 

As they had discussed earlier she retreated into the darker depths of the alley to redress. A dark blue sedan backed into view. The driver rolled down his window and stuck his head out, squinting into the mouth of the alley. Fully dressed, she followed Wyatt deeper into the alley. They slipped away into the night without being noticed. 

Her heart thumped in her chest and the sound of rushing blood filled her ears. She took quick, gulping breaths. The taste of Wyatt was still on her tongue as she moved it around in her mouth. It wasn't unpleasant. In her driveway, the young man with a noticeable bulge still present in the front of his pants handed her copies of the photos and then walked off into the night. 

Ceria threw her head back and gave a cry. On the screen in front of her was a photo from Wyatt's camera. At the left edge she was squatting with her knees wide apart, folds of her labia were visible, while Wyatt's cock was wedged deeply in her mouth. On the right side of the photo, a stretch of the street and the two storefronts were clearly visible. A man was leaving the grocery store with a plastic bag in hand while an older woman with grey hair done up in a bun was entering, and leaning next to the door of the liquor store was a young man barely in his twenties. Cerie looked at the photos and teased herself for three hours before a sore wrist encouraged her to seek her bed.

A lingering tickle of excitement, at almost being caught lingered with her for four days. During her outings, the world seemed vibrant and alive. As those times faded, her surroundings felt drab, the colors around her muted. On the duller days, she found herself standing in the hallway next to her door. Hoping for a glimpse of her accomplice as he walked to class. A secretive smile or look might give a hint to what lie in store As Friday passed and she failed to encounter the young man frustration began to take root and blossom. When the bell rang she leaned back against her desk and flung her arms towards the door, "Out damned spots. Out!"

Light grey clouds greeted her sleepy yawn on Saturday morning. A general malaise had taken her by the scruff of the neck and shaken her thoroughly. Her eyes stayed glued to her clock, promising herself she would depart her couch and spring into action in ten minutes, then ten more, and ten after that. 

She gasped at the sound of the doorbell. Cerie covered the distance in two bounding steps. She swung the door back and revealed Wyatt standing on her porch. She blinked in surprise. The young man was standing on her porch in broad daylight. 

He made a beckoning gesture. "Come on, we're going shopping."

"I have errands," she stammered.

He rolled his eyes. She felt disregarded, like a bratty younger sister.

"Do them later. Let's go."

She sat with her hands in her lap as they drove on the highway.

"Remove your bra," he said.

"Why?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Because."

She reached behind her back to undo the hook.

"No, take of your shirt, then remove your bra."

"No way. Someone might see me."

Wyatt gave her an impatient look.

"It's a Saturday afternoon, in broad day light no less."

The young man sighed again. "That's the point. Why are you acting like you don't like it?" Wyatt changed lanes to ensure all passing traffic would be on her side of the car.

Cerie gave an indignant sniff and tugged her shirt over her head. She made quick work of the bra hook and slid it off her shoulders. Before her bra hit the floorboard, a semi-truck passed, and as the cab pulled even with her window she heard the horn of the truck blare. Her cheeks burned as she pulled the shirt over her head and tugged it down to her waist. Wyatt's smile was one of pure amusement. Not wanting her powder blue bra to be visible she tucked it under her seat. She was mortified when she noticed her nipples were straining the fabric of her shirt. Every time the car jolted, she felt her breasts bounce. Even though she was clothed, she felt exposed sitting next to the young man in such a confined space. She turned to face the window, not wanting to see if Wyatt was watching her freely moving chest.

The sedan pulled into a moderately sized shopping mall. The parking lot was filled with men, women, teenagers, and families going about their business. Cerie's mind raced. Surely they weren't going to try something here? Wyatt opening her door snapped her back to reality. She followed him as he left the car and approached a clothing store. The double doors slid apart as the pair entered. She stayed a step behind Wyatt as he led her to the women's section.

"What are we here for?" she asked.

"Look for some things that are cute and fun," he said over his shoulder as he walked away.

Cerie was frowning at his back in confusion when a young salesgirl approached and asked if she could help. She jumped at the unexpected voice. The pair chatted about sales and new items. The young woman volunteered to show her some of her favorites. With a couple of cute tops and a skirt in her arms, she headed to the dressing rooms. She was changing tops when there was a knock at the door. Cerie held the top against her chest as she unlatched the door and peeked out. Wyatt slipped through the gap and into the room.

"What are you doing?" she hissed as she clutched the top tighter against her. "The salesgirl might have seen you." 

"Yeah, I gave her a wave as I walked back here."

Cerie choked on her rebuke.

"This is cute," he said as he plucked the top from her numb fingers.

"If you want to see me in the clothes wait outside and I'll model them for you."

He nodded. "OK, let's do that later. There's something else I want now." He placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed down. 

Her knees folded without putting up any resistance. She settled down on her knees and sat back on her heels. "This is wrong," she whispered.

"You bet it is," Wyatt said as he pulled down his zipper and freed his semi-hard erection from his jeans.

Without further urging, Cerie took the young man into her mouth. To her shame, Cerie found she enjoyed the feeling of him growing and hardening between her lips. Granted, exciting a teenage boy was like leading a horse to water but his response was directly due to her. She moved her head slowly up and down causing her earrings to sway back and forth with each movement. Whenever a wet sound escaped her mouth she cringed. 

Wyatt reached down and gently squeezed her breasts with his right hand. Cerie strained her ears worried someone would enter the row of stalls and discover her action. She froze halfway on a down stroke when she thought she heard the sound of a shoe on the short carpet. Wyatt grabbed the base of her ponytail and pushed her downwards. She frowned up at him.

"What's the point if nobody hears?" he asked.

He began to buck his hips forward to meet her downward stroke. She made a gurgling sound when the head of his cock bumped against the back of her mouth and slipped down her throat. Despite being horrified at his request, it hadn't prevented her from responding. Her tongue actively worked against the underside of the teenage cock and absently, she noted that he didn't taste bad. 

"You're such a good cocksucker," he said.

She frowned at him worried that he was too loud but his eyes were closed. After a few minutes, she heard him groan and felt his fingers tighten in her hair. Her eyes darted around the bare room as realization dawned on her. There was only one way to easily conceal her activities in the changing room. When warm liquid splashed across her tongue, Cerie swallowed. Wyatt leaned over and kissed the top of her head after he slipped from her mouth.

"That was great," he said as he tucked himself away and slipped out of the room.

Cerie, still seated on the backs of her heels, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took a deep breath. She opened the stall door and poked her head into the narrow hallway. She exhaled a sigh of relief when she found it empty.

Intended purchases were draped over her right arm as Cerie browsed a display of skirts. The salesgirl set about reorganizing the other side of the shelves.

"What you and your boyfriend did in the dressing rooms was way hot," she said without looking up from her work.

Cerie felt her face heat up.

"I'd never be able to do that."

"With a certain kind of guy, you find yourself doing things you never thought you would."

As the salesgirl moved away, Cerie considered purchasing a pair of panties. After the escapade in the changing room, she was soaking. Wyatt placed four pairs of panties on the counter next to two tops and a skirt. Begrudgingly, she had to admit they were cute, she'd actually wear them. A tremor ran through her legs. The first man to buy underwear for her was a teenager. She blinked in confusion as Wyatt paid for her clothes. 

"Consider it a 'thank you'," he said.

She, at a loss for words, nodded as the cashier gave her a mischievous wink.

Cerie examined Wyatt from the corner of her eye as he drove her car towards her home. "Boyfriend" rattled around in her mind as the stripes of the highway zipped past. The young driver was definitely not her "boyfriend" but it was impossible to deny that they were in a relationship of sorts. There had been a consistent escalation in their activities. It was reasonable to assume, at some point he was going to fuck her. She wriggled her hips in the seat. It was going to happen and there was nothing she could do about it.

In her driveway Wyatt tossed the keys to her and gave a little wave as he walked away. With her shopping bags around her feet, she stood immobile and watched the young man's back until he disappeared. A shout and a wave from her neighbor Rachael stirred her. She returned the wave, grabbed her bags, and hoped Rachael hadn't seen who had been driving her car.

Two weeks passed. Cerie had perused her cache of photos for the past three nights. If she had been wearing the same set of panties, she was sure she'd have rubbed a hole in them. Fall had fully arrived. Leaves fell like orange-gold snowflakes. The evening air began to nip and harry all things that valued warmth. He classes became a tad morose. Glassy, bored eyes watched her during her lectures. The only spark of life they exhibited was when the bell rang. 

"You have such a lovely face. May God, in his mercy lend you grace."

At home, she sat at her table and sipped hot soup while reading a romance novel. Her ever growing frustration screamed for an outlet. She considered going on an outing without Wyatt. Cerie dropped her spoon at the knock on her door. Velvety, tomato soup splashed across the tablecloth and her blouse. She dabbed at the stains with a napkin and cursed softly as she opened the door.

"Get dressed and let's go," said Wyatt.

Her frustration got the better of her. "Why? Maybe I have plans, You can't just show up and expect me to follow." She moved to close the door but Wyatt blocked it with his foot.

"So, you don't want to?" He withdrew his foot and pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. "I'll leave then."

She grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled him inside. "Wait here." Her feigned indignation crumbled before the onslaught of her excitement. Wyatt was right, the spontaneous factor did add excitement. Not wanting to waste time, she shed her work clothes and pulled on items that could be removed. 

Cerie scooped up her keys from the kitchen table and tossed them at Wyatt. He snatched them out of the air and cocked his head to the side.

"OK, now lose the clothes."

Cerie was annoyed and a tad confused. "You just asked me to change!"

Wyatt smiled, opened his bag, and withdrew a long coat. "I'll trade you. Keep your underwear."

The possibilities presented by the garment made her knees feel weak. She took off her clothes and handed them to the student.

"Don't you have anything prettier?" the teenager asked.

Cerie snarled in frustration as she turned on her heel and returned to her bedroom. She complained about the troublesome young man under her breath as she sifted through her drawers searching for the lacy bra and panty set she had purchased the previous year. It wasn't her usual style but it had been on sale and caught her eye. She jerked the purple lace on and stormed out of her bedroom.

"Satisfied?" she demanded as she made a slow turn with her arms held out at her sides.

Wyatt's eyebrows climbed upwards. "Um, damn Ponytail, that looks very nice on you."

Despite her annoyance, Cerie felt herself flush at the compliment. Like a gentleman, he helped her into the long coat. A belt around the waist kept it securely closed. It was long enough to conceal her lack of clothing.

The young man beckoned her with a finger and headed for the door. Cerie struggled to stay still in her seat. The sense of anticipation as the teenager drove was almost too much. If felt like they drove for hours. A vast swath of grass and trees loomed before her as the car pulled into a parking spot. Wyatt reached into the backseat and grabbed his bag. Cerie followed behind the young man. Her head swung side to side trying to pick out their next photo spot.

Wyatt led her to a walking path by a slow-flowing creek. Lines of houses were tucked away behind tall privacy fences at the edges of the greenway. A concrete overpass loomed overhead. The light underneath the span had burned out, allowing for a broad deep pool of darkness. Occasionally, Cerie heard someone walk overhead. At a gesture from the young man she pulled the belt's knot loose and slipped the garment off her shoulders. As if by magic, the camera appeared in his hands. 

She frowned. "Is that a new camera?"

"Yeah," he replied. "It's better than my old one. Now turn a bit to the side and play with your hair."

Cerie obeyed and several minutes passed with her playing the role of a lingerie model while standing in the middle of a public park. Each click of the camera drove her to be bolder, more brazen, in her posing. Without direction from Wyatt she slipped the bra strap off her shoulder. From the corner of her eye she saw him smile and found herself proud that she teased the reaction out of him.

Playfully she threw her bra at the student. He caught it without lowering the camera. She turned her back to Wyatt, bent over at the waist, and pushed her backside out. It was thrilling that only a small strip of cloth protected her modesty. The camera clicked away. 

"Hold still," instructed Wyatt.

The young man reached into the bag and withdraw a black marker. He placed a steadying hand on her hip while he squatted down next to her. Cerie closed her eyes as she felt the velvet touch of the marker's tip. Wet trails of ink cooled against her skin as she heat inside her began to mount. A slap to her backside caused her to yelp and served to announce Wyatt was done. She pushed out her hip and craned her neck but couldn't make out the words. 




Que Cerie, Cerie



"Lose the panties. Then bend over at the waist, reach between your legs, and spread your pussy open. I want to see pink," directed Wyatt.

Cerie shivered at the boldness of the order but did as instructed. The heat in her middle increased in intensity. Her fingers found wetness as she spread her labia brazenly. As the camera clicked she felt the moisture run down her fingers. Shame surged through her. She imagined her arousal would be visible to any onlooker. An image of Wyatt sitting at home looking at the picture and slowly stroking his cock skittered across her mind. An intense heat blossomed between her thighs.

"You two! What are you doing?"

A short woman with a bit of a stoop stood in front of Cerie on the path by the creek. Her grey hair caught what little light was available. Cerie felt her mouth drop open. She was frozen, like an animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Strong fingers gripped her wrist not nested between her legs and yanked her into action. They ran; Wyatt's hand never let go. The protection of the shadowy overpass was left behind. Windows of homes with lights still burning flashed by. Wyatt ducked around corners seemingly at random. Sweat trickled down her back and between her breasts. Her lungs began to burn as the distance grew. Finally, after five blocks, he pulled her into a parking lot and pressed her against the stone retaining wall. Both of their chests heaved as they pulled in ragged breaths. Wyatt felt hard and slick against her. She opened her mouth but his hand clamped down over it.

"Shh, listen."

Cerie strained her ears. She didn't hear the slap of pursuing feat nor did she hear a police siren. Her eyes sought the light that spilled past the edge of the wall. She didn't see the glaring beam of a spot light panning across the asphalt nor the colored flashing of roof-mounted lights. It appeared they were safe but the hard edge of fear remained. For the first time, they had been caught. 

The excitement along with the rush of adrenaline had been very intense. That excitement seemed to resonate off Wyatt. Having someone else share the experience gave it a rebellious, conspiratorial edge. Her eyes met his. Wyatt pulled back, gripped both her shoulders, and turned her to face the wall. A hand remained on her shoulder as she felt the other cup her left ass cheek and push it aside. She gasped as the hard cock pushed into her. He felt hot, almost feverish. She could feel the heat radiate off him as he moved. It felt as if a bar of fire was inside her. Her nails scratched at the wall as he sawed back and forth. With the adrenaline still coursing through him he was all urgency. Grunts crawled out of her throat as he pounded into her.

"Fuck. Fuck," she mumbled under her breath with each stroke. He was urgent, fierce even, in his movements and she found herself willing to be whatever he desired. Cerie screamed as her orgasm consumed her. Wyatt continued as her legs shook and her hair whipped side to side. Instead of mellowing after her climax, the excitement continued to build. The sound of passing traffic combined with Wyatt's ragged breathing sent pulses of electricity through her. When the young man grabbed her ponytail and tugged her head backwards, a second orgasm crashed over her.

Cerie's forehead rested against the rough surface of the wall. She'd had unprotected sex with a student, a student from her school no less, and never once during the entire event had she even considered saying "no." Sweat cooled against her skin making her shiver. She and Wyatt sorted out their clothes and tried to get their bearings. It took a bit of backtracking but eventually they were able to locate her car. Wyatt breached the silence first.

"That was exciting," he said.

Cerie bit her bottom lip and nodded. The combination of fear and excitement had made her feel so alive. She could recall cracks in the sidewalk as they ran with perfect clarity. It felt as if the stony wall was still pressing into her skin. The afterglow was fading ever so slowly. She still felt tingly from her lower back all the way to her toes. They said their goodbyes in the driveway. Wyatt slapped the lettered part of her backside before he walked away. Cerie didn't look at the pictures, the fear and adrenaline had left a bone deep exhaustion in their wake. She tossed her clothes into the hamper and crawled into bed.

After a morning shower she stood in front of her mirror. "Exhibitionist Bitch" was in tall black letters on the right flank. She had always hated the B-word and there it was, inked upon her skin. A small part of Cerie was impressed that Wyatt had spelled everything correctly. As she ate breakfast she had an important realization. She scooped up her keys and headed for the door. It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for. 

She pulled into the parking lot, kept her head down, and headed for the back of the store. The pharmacist requested her ID and scrutinized it quite thoroughly before reaching beneath the counter and placing the package containing a morning-after pill by the register. 

"Make sure you read the directions," she said. 

Her professional attitude never wavered but Cerie was sure those large green eyes were judging her, declaring her a slut. On her way out of the store, she grabbed a bottle of water and while she paid, she was careful to avoid eye contact with the woman behind the counter. Once her labeled backside hit the car seat, she ripped the package open and chased the pill with a large mouthful of water.

The rest of the day was filled with errands and small tasks. Cerie stood in front of the pyramid of mangos; her fingers gently prodding looking for an ever so slight softness.

"It's tough to find good ones, isn't it?"

The unexpected voice startled her. The realization dawned on her that the short, willowy woman standing next to her was Wyatt's mother. They had met the previous year at parent-teacher conferences. Cerie almost dropped her basket and had to fight the impulse to run. They exchanged pleasantries and chatted about the weather while a turbulent swirl of emotions clawed at the teacher's faux calm veneer. Guilt gnawed at Cerie through the entire conversation. She had done more with the woman's son than with several of her previous boyfriends. While Dawn spoke images flashed through Cerie's mind: on her knees in a dressing room swallowing as Wyatt came, standing in a parking lot while Wyatt fucked her with wild abandonment, and her at home in her chair rubbing herself to Wyatt's pictures. With her knees threatening to knock against each other, Cerie set down the mango, politely excused herself, and fled to the front of the store. Her shopping wasn't completed but she desperately needed to be somewhere else.

Cerie made her way to the checkout line. As she waited, impatiently shifting from foot to foot, a woman stepped up behind her. Cerie almost gasped. It was the woman who had discovered her and Wyatt. Fear constricted her chest. The woman behind her grunted.

"Did the line slow down? I swear I'm cursed. I always pick the wrong one," she said.

Electricity trickled through Cerie. The woman didn't recognize her. Cerie kept her eyes focused on the floor, expecting at any moment a pointed finger and a loudly voiced accusation. She handed the cashier the wrong amount of money and had to dig in her purse for additional funds. As the seconds ticked by, she was sure she would be discovered. She mumbled a goodbye and waved before heading towards the exit. With her groceries tucked into the trunk, her hand moved between her legs as she drove. 

"What's wrong with me?" she groaned.

Inside the door, she immediately dropped her grocery bags to the floor. Her jeans followed suit shortly thereafter. She sat with her back against the door as her hand rubbed her pussy. She didn't care if any of her purchases melted. Her need consumed her. As the climax tore through her, she released a primal scream. 

Despite determined scrubbing, the black letters were still visible on her skin. She took little comfort in the fact they were faded. It was irrational, she knew, but when she entered the school she could have sworn the letters became hot. As her first class entered her room, it felt almost as if they were searing. Branding her soul for what she was. That was her true identity, not Cerie, not being a teacher, or even a daughter. By the third class, she was convinced her students could see the fiery letters glowing through her clothes. She remained in her chair or kept herself facing forward as much as possible.

She blew out an exasperated breath when the final bell rang. "Closing time. You don't have to go home, for legal reasons I have to suggest you go home, but you can't stay here." Cerie stayed in her chair until her classroom and eventually the entire hallway emptied before she stood up and started home. The sound of her heels clicking against the freshly waxed tiles echoed down the long hallway. 

It took three days before she looked at the pictures from the night she and Wyatt were caught. Not only had the night been exciting and scary, it took her a bit to realize it was also emotionally draining. As she turned on the monitor, she felt she was ready. The first picture that appeared was her with her back to the camera, legs parted, and fingers spreading herself wide. It might have been a trick of the lighting but Cerie swore there was glistening between her fingers. Her eyes squeezed shut as her hand dove between her legs. Orgasm after orgasm rolled over her as she whispered derogatory names to herself. In the early hours of morning, she dragged herself to bed.

Cerie sat at her desk grading papers. It seemed to be a never ending task. She would vanquish one stack only to have another appear a few days later. A knock at her door drew her attention. Wyatt was standing in the doorway.

"Tonight," was all he said before he walked away.

He hadn't stayed to see if she agreed, in an odd way she found that boldly confident and a tad appealing. She forced herself to finish her work but noted her marks and comments looked sloppy and hurried. With trembling hands, she gathered her belongings and headed towards the exit. She returned Kyle's wave as she passed by his room. 

Cerie ate her dinner while pacing back and forth across her living room. The anticipation of the evening's events had prevented her from sitting. It felt like her heart skipped a beat when the doorbell rang. Shortly after she opened the door, Wyatt tossed a bag to her.

"Go, put that on."

She retreated to her bedroom with the bag. In her heart, she knew it was a tad silly, there was no modesty left to protect. The young man had seen her naked, hell, they'd even had sex but changing out of his view felt the most comfortable. Part of her also desired to experience what was in the bag alone. It preserved the slim illusion that she was an unwilling participant. Cerie frowned as she unzipped the bag and pulled out the contents. 

"Are you ready yet?" he called through the door.

Her hands tugged at the clothes. Cerie examined herself in front of the mirror. She was dressed like an awful schoolgirl stereotype; complete with a white blouse, a short red and black pleated skirt, almost knee high socks, and Mary Janes. Instructions in the bag had directed her to put her hair in pigtails. If she encountered anyone she remotely knew she was sure she would die of embarrassment. The teacher bit her bottom lip. These were to be her going out clothes. There would be no easy hiding tonight. No, trench coat to shield what she was from the outside world. She was both mortified and excited in equal parts. Cerie had never considered costumes for her outings. Once again, the young man was pushing her boundaries.

"Oh, that's just perfect, Ponytail," Wyatt said as she exited her room. "Let's get going."

Her car pulled directly under a lamp post. Lake McIntosh sat a short distance from the hood of her sedan. A concrete walking path ran by the parking lot and partially circled the large, wide body of water. Wyatt attached his camera to a tripod and set it on the hood of the car. A breeze tugged at her skirt while she waited. She was still standing on the passenger's side when he stepped behind her. He guided her forward and gently pushed her down against the hood. She could feel the heat of the engine through the hood and through her flimsy, white blouse. 

"Stay," he ordered. Directly in front of her and not too far away were several large homes. Lights still burned in the windows. Cerie immediately felt exposed and vulnerable. 

"We can't," she protested.

"Of course we can," he said as he adjusted the angle of the camera.

"The houses," she protested.

His smile was wide and amused. "Yeah, they'll have a nice view." 

He moved behind her and flipped her skirt up over her hips. His fingers snagged her thong and pulled it down to mid thigh.

His hand came down on her backside and caused her to yelp. "Man, I don't know which is prettier: your face or your ass."

With the toe of his shoe he moved her feet apart. Her right hand slapped the hood three times as he pushed into her. The anticipation during the trip had completely removed the need for foreplay. She had been ready for sex the moment she saw the houses. He gathered her pigtails in this hands and held them tightly forcing her to stare at the nearby homes. The camera clicked as the car gently rocked. She growled as Wyatt pushed all the way into her and then gave an extra little thrust. Cerie felt the heat radiate off him as he moved inside her. She found herself pushing her hips back against him. Moans were desperately trying to spill from her as the teenager slapped his hips against hers. She wanted the moment, the feelings associated with it, to last forever. The final straw was the two grayish figures that appeared on the home's front porch. Cerie screamed as her climax took her in its grip.

The teacher draped herself over the arm of her couch while Wyatt was most likely still walking down her driveway. She squeezed her eyes shut and replayed the night's events. Her hand found its way between her legs. Fingers pushed the damp, satiny material out of the way and worked in tight circles. She decided not to concern herself with the origin of the moisture. The other men in her life hand been tender with her, careful and attentive to her needs. Wyatt had done none of that, hell he hadn't even used her name, and yet, in the grip of a teenage student, she'd found sexual fulfillment. Cerie bit the cushion not wanting her neighbors to hear her scream. She left a trail of clothes behind her as she approached her bathroom. After a long soak in scalding hot water she dragged herself to bed.

Cerie's eyes hurt. She closed them and rested her forehead against her palm. In her mind she saw herself lying on a towel in the sand. Sun kissed her skin as waves lapped at her toes. Nearby was a small table full of fruity drinks with miniature paper umbrellas. The sound of her door closing snapped her out of the daydream.

Wyatt dropped his bag by her desk. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. The teenager stepped in close. Cerie's heart fluttered in her chest. Was he going to kiss her? She felt her knees get weak. All this time he'd never tried. She closed her eyes, titled her head, and quickly wetted her lips with her tongue.

His fingers tugging at the waistband of her pants caused her to open her eyes. Wyatt unfastened them and pushed them down over her hips. Cerie swallowed hard. She had never considered doing anything at her place of work, especially not in her classroom. Fear bubbled up in her. She stepped out of her pants, folded them, and set them in her chair as Wyatt retrieved his camera from his bag. He gestured for her to remove her blouse as he attached the tripod and set the camera on the corner of her desk.

After her blouse joined her pants on her chair, Wyatt placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her closer to her desk. With one hand on her shoulder and the other resting on her backside, he, bent her over the broad wood surface. With her arm she pushed the papers out of the way, not minding if they fell to the floor. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as the young man pushed her legs apart. 

The teasing fingers traced elaborate patterns across the gusset of her panties. Several times she pushed against the fingers only to have them pull away. His fingers returned at her sides, moved down to her waist, snagged her panties, and drew them down her legs. Cerie was ready to have him inside her. She wiggled her hips partially to please Wyatt but also hoping to entice him into taking her. The young man chuckled and gave her a playful slap on the ass.

A fingertip traced over the faded writing. She heard a drawer open. Knowing what he was looking for she pointed to the proper location. Cerie had to hold back a moan as the felt tip of the marker slid across her skin.

Wyatt slapped her ass. "Tell me what you are, Ponytail."

She held her bottom lip between her teeth. It was one thing to harbor that knowledge deep within herself. Saying it out loud, declaring it to the world, was a public declaration; an acknowledgement. The hand stuck her backside again.

"There's nothing wrong with the truth."

For a third time, his hand crashed into her. "I'm an exhibitionist bitch," she shouted. She had intended to whisper it but the words burst out of her.

"Good girl. One more time, scream it." His fingers slipped easily inside her. 

She knew she was wet and wasn't embarrassed. "I'm an exhibitionist bitch!"

Her breaths came in ragged gasps. Wyatt's fingers twirled inside her as if he were stirring a drink. She sighed when he slipped out of her. She waited with baited breath for the sound of Wyatt's zipper. Cerie wanted him to take her in her own classroom over her own desk. 

"You're free. I'm going to let you go," Wyatt said.

She bolted upright. "What?"

"I can't blackmail you forever. Sooner or later, you'll grow to resent it and me." Wyatt shrugged. "So..." 

After the initial shock faded her first thought was "What did I do wrong?" She should have been happy. The teenager had been using her after all. Treating her like a toy. Using her for his own gratification. Her mouth opened and her jaw moved but her voice had fled her. Wyatt took the memory stick from the camera and placed it in front of her. Panties dangled from the young man's index finger.

"I'm going to keep these," he said. Wyatt scooped up his bag and waved over his shoulder as he departed.

Numb and confused Cerie sat on the edge of her desk and tried to puzzle out what had just happened. Frustrated and lacking a good answer the teacher gathered her things. She grabbed the marker from her desk and flung it across the room before snatching up her purse and heading for the door. The drive home, dinner, and evening passed by and the fog of confusion never left her.

She abstained from her hobby for two months to prove to herself she didn't need it and she didn't need Wyatt. Cerie took to standing by her door during intermissions and watching the students as they filed by. Kyle smiled and waved whenever he saw her. A man she should be interested in was simply down the length of worn and faded tile, yet she found herself apathetic. As days slipped by and her routine returned to normal that itch, the tickling at the back of her head became constant. On a Friday afternoon her will broke. After much internal debate, she decided it was time to indulge herself. On her way to her car she passed Wyatt, the first time she had seen him since he tossed her away. Their eyes met and he gave a quiet, knowing smile.

With darkness all around her, she pulled her shirt off over her head. Cerie had returned to her first site, hoping to recapture the initial magic she had felt. After waiting for several minutes no park visitors passed by. She shrugged, stepped out into the light, smiled, posed, and took photos until her arm tired. Cerie smiled when she returned to her pile of clothes and found her underwear was still present. She stomped fallen leaves and twigs beneath her feet, letting the world know she had returned, as she made her was back to her car.




Que Cerie, Cerie



The images slid across the screen in front of her, fingers moved in tight little circles. With a groan she shuddered as she came. Her toes curled, flexed, and then curled again. Panting in her chair a hollow feeling gnawed at her middle. The orgasms with Wyatt and his photos had been deeper, more fulfilling. She pushed herself to her feet and kicked over the chair. On wobbly legs she made her way to the bathroom and settled into a tub of scalding water.

She wanted the same level of intensity she had had with Wyatt. In a way it was almost like learning to see a new color. Then she had lost it. The world was still fine but she yearned for what she had before. She paused with her thumb hovering over the screen of her phone. The implication of her intended action settled over her. Wyatt had forced himself into her life initially. If she called him she would be accepting his involvement. Accepting his control over her, his use. Her thumb pushed the call button.