Making the Scene in Room 116

"Don't even worry about it. I have it all worked out. You know where I got the idea?"

"Where?"

"I met a guy in chat, I go to this interracial chat site? We got into it, fuck does he ever give good cyber, and afterwards, I find out he's doing summer classes at your school. And so I tell him I'm going to be in town and we get to talking about a meet-up, and I'm like, why not get my old friend Steener in on this?"

"Hah, nobody's called me Steener since college."

"You were a party animal, girl. And you will be again. You ready to do this?"

"I'm nervous."

"That wasn't the question, Steener."

"Okay... yeah, I'm ready. See you in class."

Her heart was racing so fast she felt like she was going to pass out.

Stina had been dripping wet all day, waiting for this moment. She'd had to masturbate twice in the staff ladies' room, biting her knuckle and stifling her moans as her pussy exploded all over her frantic fingers, the thought of the absolutely insane caper Karla had roped her into sending vivid mental images across her mind. She hadn't been laid in months, and Sol and Shad were, truthfully, two of the hottest male specimens she could have imagined acting out a fantasy with... so she had to keep her eyes from lingering on their hard muscles, wandering down to their crotches as she stumbled her way through the preamble about the "essay on respect" they were using as a pretext.

The whole time she felt light-headed, exposed. She could feel Rachel Raines' eyes on her. Stina cursed her inwardly for thoughtlessly forcing her to give her detention, she hadn't been part of the plan. The girl was not what anyone would have described as a study in curiosity or keen observation... but even so, she had to be noticing the weird vibe in the air. The feverish little glances of anticipation she and Karla couldn't help sharing.

Stina was far from sure she sounded coherent as she hastily rambled to a conclusion with: "Are we clear, everyone? Monk, are you listening?"

She wasn't sure why she'd called on him. It just came out. And now she felt his eyes bore into her. Knowing eyes. Bit her lip and flushed deeply as he made her wait for what seemed like an eternity before he said "crystal clear."

"Fine, let's get it on... uh, I mean let's get on it, everyone." And went and sat behind her desk for the agonizing wait. Could hear her heart roaring in her ears as she squirmed and rubbed her firm thighs around the molten heat in her cunt. She could feel Sol and Shad looking up at her every once in a while -- and at the shapely form of Karla pacing quietly beside her -- and it was almost as though every time she felt their eyes on her, her tight pussy grew wetter. She pretending to be marking something, was really staring blankly down at the school newsletter as she gripped a pen in a white-knuckled fist and thought: Oh God...

The minutes ticked by as the charade played out. Slowly, oh so slowly. How was it that time seemed to slow to a halt in detention? The sexy pink bustier and thong Karla had helped her pick out felt silky and sensual against her skin under her conservative suit and blouse. "You've got to prime yourself for an adventure like this," her old college chum turned infamous provocateur had explained. And God knew she felt primed... primed enough that she was sure she'd go off like a rocket the moment someone touched her down there. She was struggling not to envision what Sol and Shad's big black dicks might look like, trying to dwell on how they might smell, might taste, might feel... trying and failing.

She couldn't help it, as she looked up again and caught Shad's eyes on hers she was giving him the kind of ravishing, randy smile she'd used to reserve for her husband... back when her husband had still been willing to earn it. Caught Rachel Raine's curious look out of the corner of her eye and quickly dropped her eyes back to her desk.

Karla was struggling to hide her horniness too, she noticed. The seductive way her hips swayed with that constant pacing was unmistakable, as was the gleam in those flashing blue eyes, the way her perky B-cups rose and fell. She was clearly trying to make her smiles for the male students look innocently inspiring... but they came over as salacious instead, almost leering.

Oh Christ, we're going to get busted. The panic bubbled up now as the waiting grew unbearable. Someone's going to walk in on us or something, and they're going to take one look at us and we're going to get busted before we can even do this.

Just as the thought was flashing across her mind, she looked up to see Monk standing at her desk, paper in hand. Those knowing eyes again. "Finished, Miss Anderson."

"Okay, Monk." She reached for it. Saw the lump at the crotch of his stove-pipe slacks, quickly tore her eyes away from it as she took the paper. "Let's have a look--" Her voice died in her throat as he saw that he'd copied the same sentence repeatedly, filling both sides of the sheet with it in writing of various sizes and styles.

The variations all read:

Her belly quivered, a shuddering sensation taking hold of her pussy as the words harrowed into her. She felt herself blushing a deep red, a hand going to her mouth as she cleared her throat. Her heart pounded as she looked up at him, his expression unreadable but his eyes full of the frank knowledge that she was going to have to let the sheet full of humiliating words pass. That she was going to have to let him go. He, after all, had played his part.

What the hell am I doing? The paper swam in front of her. What am I teaching him about how to... treat women? About how life works? A part of her wanted to jump up, slap him, scold him and scuttle the whole thing then and there.

But that part of her wasn't in control of her mouth, which just said: "Okay, that will do, Monk. You can go. We'll, uh... talk about your penmanship another day."

"Yes, ma'am."

The paper shook as she set it to one side. Monk made his way back to his desk, seemed to drop and fumble with something... then picked up his satchel was out the door. He didn't spare another glance for anyone he left behind, as if he was erasing the whole room from his thoughts. Stina watched him go, fighting to regain her composure.

She caught that look from Rachel Raines again. The girl was starting to look a bit freaked out now, and Stina found herself doing something she rarely did: leaning on brute authority. "Hey! Eyes down and get that essay finished, young lady. I'm timing you."

"You're saying you cybered with Karla Colton? Son, you are straight trippin'."

"Keep your fucking voice down, man. Why on Earth would I make up a story like that? Think about it."

"Well... I guess it's true if I had to make up a love connection with anyone, it would be like Bey or Rih-Rih or someone like that..."

"Or basically any one of millions of women who aren't Karla Colton, right?"

"Right... right. Hey, you're for real about this, ain't you?"

"That's what I'm telling you. And listen... it turns out she's into more than just fantasies behind a computer keyboard."

"I don't follow you."

"I mean she's down with the brothers for real, Shad. She wants me to set her up with a couple of guys."

"The fuck, son, you like a pimp now or something?"

"Just think of me as an agent, okay? She's paying me... I mean, she already has paid me. She wants to get it on with two athletic Black guys... and it's not just her."

"What, let me guess, it's her and like, Katy Perry or some shit?"

"No, Shad. Ir's her and Stina Anderson. Our Miss Anderson."

"..."

"I swear to God I am not making this up and I am not bullshitting you and I am not pranking you. Okay? This is the real deal. This is happening."

"Man, this ain't even fair. If you're fuckin' with me... I told you certain shit in confidence, alright? So you better not be--"

"I wouldn't dream of it. It's happening, Shad. This is real. The question you and I need to answer right here is this: is it happening to you."

She'd been looking forward to this day for two weeks, now. Savouring the anticipation. And now the moment was almost here.

She didn't want to, but Karla found herself glaring daggers at the dumb Perry Girl teenybopper who'd contrived to land herself here, had forced the delay. It was especially bad because her bright boy from chat had delivered, oh how he'd delivered, worth every penny, two hunks of big buck nigger muscle and meaty African cock sitting right there ready to be exploited for her pleasure, and she meant to make the most of them, she was visualizing all the ways she was going to use them...

... but nooo, she had to wait. Pacing, climbing out of her skin, nights of feverish yearning burning her up inside, moistening her naked cunt -- waxed specifically for this occasion -- stiffening her nipples and swelling her sensitive tits as they bounced under her blouse, bare and braless and ready to surrender to the sweet suction of a willing mouth or two. She had to wait for Little Miss Peckerwood Thing to bend her limited I.Q. around the eternal puzzle of the written word like she was deciphering fucking hieroglyphics or something, it was maddening.

She closed her eyes as she paced. Took a steadying breath as she heard Monk giving Stina his "essay" and taking his leave, bustling out with nary a word or glance to anyone, mercifully. And now she silently asked Miss Whatever-the-Fuck-Her-Name-Was her forgiveness for thinking about her as "Little Miss Peckerwood Thing" just now. Just for God's sake, get it fucking done, she prayed devoutly. Let the waiting be over. This whole thing had changed from being a lark, a wacky caper, into a serious hunger that she couldn't wait to slake.

"It's just a day job," she'd told her sweet and innocent friend Stina about her political writing, and well, that wasn't totally true. To be sure, she dialled it up to eleven and garnished it with conspiracy theory for the nutters and the punters and the "SovCit" whackjobs, but on the other hand the promo copy of #WhiteLiveMatter in her satchel leaning against Stina's desk was more than just some joke or dodge or comedic routine. But with all of that said... these boys certainly have their uses.

Karla firmly believed that Black guys, some of them anyway, had some kind of... she didn't know, extra gland or muscle or pheromone or something. Something that made them just that more feral and alluring, that gave them that added touch of stamina and power that put them over the top. Some people would have just said it was the lure of forbidden fruit. Or maybe her desire to spite her overbearing father, who would have approved of what she was up to here about as much as he'd have approved her cruising a leper colony.

Sure those things were part of the mix, too... but in the end, it didn't matter what the mix was made of. What mattered is that the cocktail was in her blood, had been since her own high school days, and there was no getting rid of it. Nothing to do about it except to indulge her passions. The trick was finding the right combination of thrill and discretion, and of course the kind of people who could never hope to pit their words against hers.

She just barely stopped herself from letting out a cry of relief when the gorgeous little Perry girl had put her hand and said: "Done, Miss Anderson." And Stina, sounding more collected than she looked at this point, had made approving noises and waved her forward.

As she handed her paper over, the girl darted a frightened glance at Karla, she'd plainly felt the ill-will radiating off her. Well, good, you dumb slit. The horny pundit didn't care if the hostility of her thoughts was reflected in her own eyes, now. Get your fucking brain in gear next time, it shouldn't take you forever to produce a few hundred fucking words.

Stina looked the "essay" over, it wasn't clear if she was even seeing the writing on the page. "Okay, it'll do. I'll see you on Monday, Rachel. And let's, uh, remember to keep cell phone behaviour appropriate, okay?"

The girl nodded convulsively, gave a final and profoundly weirded-out once-over to the room in general, and was gone. And Karla's blood was singing as she casually strolled over and very quietly locked the door behind her. And now... we've got them all to ourselves.

She paced back to stand beside the Stina's desk. Her friend was looking like she might faint now that their moment was finally here, so Karla took it on herself to move things along. "How're those essays coming, boys?"

It was the bigger of the two -- Sol, she thought his name was -- who looked up first. The eye contact was potent and had Karla outright licking her lips as he stood up and said: "Well, ma'am, you can check for yourself."

Karla held his eyes a moment more. Looked at the paper. "Why, there's nothing on there."

"Never been too good with words, I guess," said Sol. Seeing him on his feet reminded her just how he towered over her, he was built like a linebacker. His shoulders were a marvel of nature all on their own. And God, his voice is deep... "Anyway I been a little... distracted."

"Oh, I see." Karla gave him a flirtatious up-and-down. "Well... what are we going to do with you."

"Listen, I wanted to explain something... about earlier." Sol's eyes were running all over her body too. "I really am sorry... cuz what we did was disrespectful and all. Just kind of came out, you know? I been a little frustrated, lately. Same reason I'm distracted so easy right now, maybe."

"Really?" Karla kept her tone light, faux-innocent. "What reason is that?"

"Well, it's my girl, you see." Sol affected being tongue-tied. Or maybe he really was tongue-tied. He looked down shyly. "I... we been having some problems."

"Problems? A big strapping guy like you?"

"That's just it, Miss Colton." Sol was meeting her eyes again now. A naughty gleam through the fake shyness made her heart race. "She says I'm... well, that I'm packing a little too much heat, if you know what I mean. Says it like... hurts her and shit. Uh, pardon my French. I ain't been able to get it on this whole summer, and that's why I'm kind of... on edge."

"Too much heat?" Karla breathed. She let her eyes drift down... there was indeed a truly massive package tenting his trousers. "Well. I think I might be able to help you, Sol."

"How's that, Miss Colton?"

"I am here as an inspirational speaker, right?" She stepped closer to him, the electricity of anticipation raising the hair on the back of her neck. "So here's a little inspiration for you: what if I told you there's no such thing as 'too much heat.' What if I could show you how a real woman can handle it... even a tiny little slip of a thing like me. Maybe you could go home and give your girl a few pointers, hmmm? Maybe we could take a little of that edge off." She traced a finger lightly over his hard pecs. "What do you think?"

"You'd... do that?" The awed disbelief in Sol's voice sounded almost genuine, as if he didn't think it really would get to this point.

"What can I say." Her voice was throaty now, her lust rising. "I'm a very, very good friend of the strong young Black man. Now, why don't you show me your... problem."

For a sweet, charged moment, time seemed to stand still. And then Sol was tossing aside his empty sheet of paper and reaching down, unzipping the fly on his khakis. Karla felt giddy as he tugged a certain something free... and giddier yet as she looked down to see a massive, chocolate-coloured, veiny shaft of glorious cut cock, a pearl of pre-cum leaking from its purple head, already tumescent and almost as long and thick as her forearm. She felt a thrill of desire in the soft flesh of her twat as she gasped, her hot juices starting to trickle down her inner thighs as she feasted her eyes on it in wonder. So much better than I even hoped...

"My oh my," she breathed as she reaching out and touched it, stroked the length of it with a feather-light touch. "You really are packing heat." And she was already sinking to her knees as she added: "Let's see if your naughty little Miss Colton can make you feel better..."

"Trust me, I had the same reaction. But he swears it's on the level, and I dunno... it's not like Monk to stick his neck out if he can't deliver, you know?"

"Fuckin' Monk. That kid gives me the creeps, Shad. I don't trust him or his connections, neither. Bad news, you ask me."

"I feel you, son. But come on, this could be the chance of a lifetime. And I know you always had a thing for blondes."

"I just... I can't believe it. Woman like that being down to fuck in the hood? I thought that was just like a bit they did on the Boondocks or something."

"So there you go. Suppose it's for real and you just let it pass you by. You'd never forgive yourself."

"Maybe you got a point... so it'd be just you and me, then, huh?"

"Yeah. Uh. At first."

"The fuck you mean 'at first'?"

"Well... see, that's the other thing Monk laid on me. He's got this little surprise planned..."

You're imagining things, Rachel, she told herself as she all but fled the detention room. It can't be what it looks like. You're just... imagining things.

She heard the door close quietly behind her.

And lock.

Rachel stopped in the hallway for a moment. The weird energy she'd felt in that room -- the looks of unmistakable lust shining in her teacher's eyes. The way that Colton woman had paced like a cougar in heat, had daggered hate at Rachel with her eyes as if she'd been getting in the way of something. The big, suggestive lumps she'd spotted in Shad and Sol's trousers. The way Miss Anderson had flushed beet red in reaction to the "essay" Monk had put in front of her, as if she was looking at a bunch of dirty drawings or something. She hadn't been imagining it. It had been real.

She'd fought to concentrate, to try to string something like coherent sentences together on the page in front of her. But suddenly she was feeling the heat more keenly than ever before. There was a fluttering in her belly, a buzzing in her ears... among other distractions. She finally managed to write a few paragraphs about how she wouldn't talk on her cell in class anymore, most of it just repetitions of the same thing in slightly different words, because the strange vibe around her was so distracting. She'd set it in front of Miss Anderson, received one last withering glare from Miss Colton, gotten the hell out.

What do I do now? She was sort of wondering if she should tell somebody? Except no, she wasn't wondering that. That was her mind shrinking away from the truth. She wasn't outraged... she was curious.

No. Wrong again. She was more than just curious. Was she right about what was about to happen in that room? And if she was... what would it look like? What would it sound like?

Almost against her will, she remembered the other distractions, like the way she'd found herself looking over Shad and Sol's beefy bodies with substantially more interest than normal. The way she'd felt a tingle against the gusset of her cotton panties... it was still there now. She'd found her heart racing, her breath short. And she realized now: the thought of it was more than just fascinating. It was hot. It was speaking to something deep inside her. All her plans for her friends and the evening and the Cobra Lounge were forgotten, scattered in the wake of a single inescapable fact that had plowed through everything else like a wrecking ball.