Devious Applications Pt. 02

Bobby and his mother started clearing and going through boxes early the following morning. The night he had spent with Amanda netted him a little over $40,000, and his checking account was nearing $75,000. As Sharon sorted keepsakes from trash, he fantasized about buying a car.

His mother was on her knees, thumbing through pictures. She wore loose fitting pajamas that were frayed and going thin from years of use, buttoned all the way to her neck. Bobby didn't have much to do, apart from getting boxes she was ready to inspect. They did that same routine for hours, until she pointed at the leather duffel bag.

Excitement tripling, Bobby sat it down in front of her with a clink, coins jostling inside. "I forgot how your grandpa collected coins," mom muttered, pulling a sack out. "Did he ever teach you anything about them?" Sharon dumped some dimes into her palm.

"No," Bobby said with a shake of the head. "I know some are valuable though, like silver and stuff."

Looking up, mom gave him a light smile. The bridge of her nose was shiny and beads of sweat gathered where her hair was pulled back. "Maybe we'll make a few hundred dollars from this endeavor," mom said, shaking up the coins she held. She patted the cold cement beside her. "Come here, Bobby, and gorgle how an old woman is supposed to tell if coins are silver."

He sat, folding his legs, leaving a little empty patch of concrete in front of himself and checked his phone. "It says that quarters and dimes made in the year 1964 and earlier are mostly silver," he read aloud and whistled. "A single quarter is like twelve bucks."

"Huh," she said, holding one of the dime's up. "What about a dime?" Her voice was conspiratorial, and her gaunt cheek bunched into a grin.

"Five," he replied and locked his phone, setting it aside. Bobby leaned closer; he could smell last night's alcohol coming off her neck. "Well, is it silver? I can't see the date from here."

Mom hefted the sack. "It is," she said, handing the cloth bag to him. "You check these." Stuffing her arm in the duffle, she grabbed the biggest sack, the quarters, as Bobby dumped the dimes on the floor next to his shins. "Oh, this one's heavy."

Bobby tried not to smile like a lunatic and concentrated on his pile, peering at a coin innocently. It was made in the year 1958, and he dropped it into the empty sack before selecting another. His mother copied him, spilling her bag onto the ground and from the corner of his eye, Bobby saw her freeze, bringing a hand to her mouth.

He waited a moment, expecting her to respond immediately, but she stayed quiet. Unable to hold himself back, he looked over. "What is it, Mom?"

His question broke her out of her trance. Mom's hand moved slowly away from her mouth, tentatively, as if to avoid scaring the little golden creatures resting in the pile of quarters. They stood out like beacons, bright and gleaming, some small, others quite a bit larger than the quarters. After what seemed like minutes, her hand finally reached one of the ounces, and she plucked it free, causing the surrounding metal to chime and tinkle. "How much is... a gold coin worth, Bobby?" she asked, voice soft as a breeze.

Bobby's grin refused to remain contained, breaking free and splitting his face in half. "I'll check," he said, his excitement acting like proof of the dream in front of her, and she beamed, snatching another gold coin and slapping them together. Heart racing, he looked it up, despite remembering what he had spent on each. When the number appeared, he frowned, they had all overcharged his ass by like four hundred dollars. "$3,527." He held his phone up to her face, trying to mask his disappointment. Fucking bastards, he thought.

"Oh my god, Bobby!" mom squealed and frantically spread the pile thin, picking through and grabbing the biggest ones. When finished, she counted the beautiful stack she held. "Nineteen." Her head quirked to one side. "That has to be close to seventy thousand dollars, not even counting all the small gold and silver."

They searched through the rest of the cloth sacks, only finding more dimes, some pennies and a bag of nickels. Mom put all the gold in one of the dime sacks, spinning it as he had done on Saturday with his sock. Without warning, she crushed his face into her breast. It wasn't as soft and pillowy as Megan's boobs had been, but he enjoyed the affection, nonetheless. She stroked his hair, sniffling. "Oh, Bobby," she said. "If not for you, I would have never cleaned this place out."

He gave a muffled chuckle, peering into one of the gaps between buttons on her shirt. Sunspots peppered her skin, accompanied by green and purple veins on her stiff boob. "I'm a good luck charm," Bobby said.

"You certainly are, honey," mom replied, wiping her nose. Kissed the top of his head. "Do you mind if we postpone our work until next week?"

*

His phone buzzed in chemistry class, and he snuck a peek. A text from Megan. "Hey," it read. Gaze flicking to the front of the room, he made sure Mrs. Anderson wasn't paying attention. She looked like a colorful ex-convict, with tattooed arms and fingers; auburn hair and icy, blue eyes. The woman even had three on her neck, a big butterfly in the middle and a set of cursive writing on either side.

"What are you doing?" he texted back as Alessio bugged his eyes at him. Alessio was incredibly book smart and a loner like Bobby but more shy in general. Alessio was his only real friend, and had long, curly hair down to his shoulders and a tan complexion, with thick eyebrows, and he was skinny as a twig. Bobby thought he looked kind of stupid with the long hair, and had tried convincing him to get a haircut, but apparently, Alessio's mother had raged at the idea, so Bobby dropped the subject.

Megan replied. "Ugh, our flight was delayed, and we won't be back till four."

"You're leaving me alone in Dubois' class?" he sent, Alessio reading the text block, and Bobby angled it so he could see better.

"You'll have to find someone else to feel up until tomorrow," Megan responded, adding an eggplant emoji.

Alessio stifled a grin and went back to reading his chemistry book. Bobby typed, "Send me a pic of what I'll be missing."

It took a few minutes, but Megan finally responded, sending him a picture of herself in front of a bathroom mirror with most of her titty exposed. Alessio elbowed him in the ribs. When Bobby looked up, Mrs. Anderson was striding over and snatched his phone before he could lock it.

His teacher frowned at the screen before glaring at Bobby. "After class," she said coldly. That's what he got for being blind and having to sit in front--Alessio also refused to sit anywhere else.

When the lunch bell rang, Alessio gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry, I tried to warn you," Alessio whispered. "My mom made the sub you like, if you're still alive in a few minutes I'll split it with you."

Bobby's mouth watered. Alessio's mom sometimes made him vegan Philly cheese steak for lunch, wrapped in foil. It was far better than the rubber in the cafeteria. Bobby liked the woman; he had met her a couple times after going to Alessio's house for projects. "Hell yeah," he said.

When the room cleared, Bobby gathered his courage and walked over to Mrs. Anderson. She frightened him and had a gold front tooth. Her eyes were narrowed. "How dare you beg for nudes in my class," she hissed, slamming a palm on her desk. The sound rebounded off the walls like an enthusiastic clap. He jumped.

"What?" he said, taken aback at the snarl on her face.

"Don't play the fool, Bobby!" she spat, getting to her feet. "I perused your little text chain, and I recognized the poor girl. I'm good friends with her mother, and she'll be hearing from me the moment you step out that door." She pointed with one hand and stabbed him in the chest with his phone. "Go!"

"But I," Bobby started and grasped his phone.

"Get out of my face," Mrs. Anderson sneered and leveled a glare at Alessio. "You too!"

Alessio's eyes bulged, and he frantically gathered his things. "Sorry, Mrs. Anderson."

*

Bobby opted out of the free lunch, heading for the vending machines instead, Alessio in tow. "She's a fucking bitch," Bobby complained.

Alessio chuckled. "I almost soiled myself when she yelled at me," he confessed. "Why are we going this way?"

Turning the corner, Bobby made a right into the vending machine nook. Three cheerleaders were using the one that dispensed iced coffee bottles and other drinks. "I have some money today," Bobby said, using both arms to gesture at the machines. "The free lunches taste like Mrs. Anderson cooked and threatened the whole batch."

"They do seem vile," Alessio agreed. "My mom would have a fit if I had to eat them."

Stepping in front of the chip machine, Bobby said, "What do you want for half the sandwich? Pick anything, and we'll trade."

Alessio hurried to his side. "Yeah?" he asked. "My mom doesn't let me have any of this. She makes me eat carrots and broccoli, and baked chicken. Zucchini. Squash. All the fruits. Yogurt. Ugh and vegan cheese and fake pizza. I'm not even allowed to utter the word candy around her, less I be turned inside out."

The girls beside them laughed, turning to Bobby and Alessio. "Sounds like your diet, Liz," one of them said. Their group consisted of two blonds and an Asian girl wearing a sweatshirt over her uniform.

"Hey, Hazel," the Asian girl whispered and nudged one of the blonds' shoulders--the one wearing sunglasses. "Isn't he the one we followed on Friday?"

Hazel flicked the shades up, squinting at Bobby. Alessio ignored them, studying the options inside the machine. "It is him, the grabby guy," Hazel said, a lopsided grin forming on her face. "Did you end up getting lucky?" Her eyes darted to his embarrassing neck.

"You were following me?" Bobby asked, frowning. "For how long?"

The trio burst into laughter as Alessio pointed. "The fuming hots," Alessio said.

Bobby followed his finger. "Is that it?" he said. "Just get whatever you want, and I'll pay for it. I still owe you for all the other times."

Alessio gaped at him. Peered at the other machine. "Candy too?" he asked, the words coming out quickly. Bobby expected the reaction, knowing how strict Alessio's mother was; keeping him away from sweets had to end sometime. Alessio was the most reserved person he had ever met, and Bobby had trouble imagining being kept on such a tight leash. Alessio had a heart attack the first time Bobby offered him weed.

Bobby snickered. "Yeah, just don't get me in trouble with your mom," he answered. "That shit can make you sick and a fat ass."

Alessio chuckled nervously. "I've heard."

Hazel butted in, answering Bobby's question, "Duh, we people watch sometimes, and who better than two somebodies stinking like weed. Aiko took a couple videos." The smirk on her face sent a spasm of worry through his neck.

Oblivious to what the girl had said, Alessio tapped away at the chip machine. Harumphed once. Turned to go. Changed his mind and pressed more buttons.

Bobby's mouth fell open, and he rubbed his neck. "Er, what did you see?" he prompted. Alessio scooched past, aiming for the candy machine.

The other blonde filled the spot Alessio vacated. "Relax, you two were cute together and taking her to Chow's made Hazel jealous," she said and looked over her shoulder. "That's why she's grilling you."

Bobby's phone rang, and he pulled it out. It was Kate. "Fucking Mrs. Anderson," he muttered before answering, turning away from the spies. "Hello?"

"Hi, Bobby dear, this is Kate, Megan's mother," she said, sounding tired.

"Oh, hey, how's the trip going?" he asked nervously.

"Dreadful, a complete nightmare but that's neither here nor there," she said. "I got a call from your teacher, Mrs. Anderson. Regarding a photo my daughter sent you."

Bobby gulped. "Uh," he said, managing that much only barely.

"Listen, doll, you're a sweet boy, and Megan was over the moon and Saturn with your date by the way," Kate said, voice growing warm. "I remember what it was like to be young and excitable, but crimeny Bobby, keep my little girl's pictures to yourself next time." She heaved a sigh.

Bobby exhaled. "I will, I will, and I'm really sorry, Kate," he said. "Mrs. Anderson snuck up on me like a ghoul."

"Well, I won't blame you for being struck dumb by what you saw," Kate said, chuckling. "You are a man after all."

"Thank you," he replied.

"That damn woman sent me the photo, along with pictures of your chat," Kate told him, sounding amused. "Trish is still a firecracker."

Bobby spun, hurt by what his teacher had done. "Fucking bitch," he muttered, not meaning to say it aloud. He found the three cheerleaders watching with bated breath, like he was their own personal TV show. Ignoring them, Bobby opened his wallet and fed a twenty into the chip machine. The total blinked, asking for more. $27.50. He gave it another.

"Don't be so harsh on her, deary," Kate said. "She's a good woman underneath the bravado and ink. You should try sucking up to her. Having someone like that in your corner never hurts."

He laughed, watching bags of chips start falling one by one. "Thanks, Kate, but I think she hates me," Bobby said.

"Oh, nonsense, sweetness," Kate said. "Trish has had a tough life and an even rougher couple years, but she has a softer side when you get to know her. She loves daisies. Ladybugs. A show called 'friends'." Megan's mother giggled. "That was way before your time. A Tooler Swaft fanatic; Swafty's I think they call themselves."

"What?" Bobby demanded, flabbergasted. "She does not like Tooler Swaft and flowers."

"Oop, that's our flight, doll cake," Kate said. "I suggest bribing her with some memorabilia if you want to get on her good side. You have almost a full year left of that woman, and believe me, she can make your life a living hell. Toots." She made two smooching sounds. "Oh, and don't be afraid to text me for help, but you better not let her catch you doing it."

The line went dead, and Bobby put the phone away. Alessio met his eye, smiling sheepishly. "I went a little crazy," Alessio said and ducked, pulling a bag of cyorn nuts from the trap door. "I just want to try a bit of everything."

"You haven't had snacks before?" Aiko asked, bending to help Alessio get everything out of the machine.

Bobby inserted his card into the candy machine, not wanting to deal with any more change. Hazel flapped a hand at Aiko, shushing her. "Soo, tell us what happened after Chow's," she urged. "And in the dressing room. That's the better video Aiko took, of the girl disappearing into your stall and then you two coming out looking sweaty." She babbled rapid fire.

Wincing, Bobby said, "Can I see the videos?"

"Spill the details and we'll show you," Hazel said, hands on her hips. "Aiko thinks you made out in there, but I know better. It ended too quickly for that, no one worries about getting caught sucking spit, and you would have stayed longer if that's all that happened. Am I right?"

Megan would be right at home with these three, he thought. Brenda too. "She cut tags off for me," Bobby answered and reached toward Aiko with an open palm. "Happy?"

Alessio was munching Heetos next to Aiko, who was holding several bags for him. Aiko made a face. "Fine," she said. Aiko reached into her sweatshirt pocket, hugging chips with the other arm, and pulled out her phone. Unlocking it, her thumb danced around before she stopped, holding the device out to him. "Swipe left once for the second video."

Through Hazel's half-hearted protests, he played the files, which were shaky and crooked. The first was as Hazel had said, just Megan going into his stall, and the second was when he grabbed her ass after his sister left. He used his finger to speed through them before sending them to himself. "Here," he said, giving the phone back once they fully sent. "You're a terrible cameraman."

"Ugh, you're no fun," Hazel said, snapping her glasses back down.

The girls left shortly after, leaving Alessio and Bobby to their own devices. They decided to sit on the floor and eat, sharing snacks and splitting the hoagie.

"I'm going to try bribing Mrs. Anderson into liking us, well me, I think she already likes you," Bobby said, and Alessio made a face. "Do you want to come with? I'm pretty sure I know the place that sells what I'll need."

*

The rest of the day passed slowly and when the final bell sounded, Bobby waited for the classroom to clear. "I have some stuff I need to do today, Ms. Dubois," Bobby said, shouldering his backpack.

Dubois rubbed her neck, as if it hurt her. "Not to worry, young man," she said, giving him a soft smile. Her eyes flicked to the door. "Do you have a 'you know what' just in case?"

He patted his back pocket. "Uh, yeah, I put one in my wallet."

"Good," Dubois said, nodding. "Be careful and see to it that it doesn't slip off."

Bobby chuckled, fidgeting with his ear. "That's not," he said and stopped himself. "I probably won't need it today."

Dubois stretched her arms high, yawning. "I appreciate your candor, mister," she said, crossing one leg over the other. "You can always come to me with questions, or if you need another box. I know that young men are embarrassed to buy them. See me before you even think about having intercourse without one, got it?"

"Got it," Bobby agreed, shifting his backpack strap. He looked down, breaking eye contact. "I was wondering if, maybe, you know." Taking a breath, he lowered his voice. "Put it in your mouth again."

Dubois narrowed her eyes. "Out of the question," she growled and pointed to the door. "Leave, and if you ever mention that again, you'll be in a world of hurt."

"Sorry," Bobby said and turned to go.

"Apology accepted, young man," Dubois said.

*

He stopped in front of the school, where students were being picked up or gathering in groups and talking. He called Alessio. It rang and rang before going to voicemail, the guy's voice asking for a message to be left after the tone. Bobby hung up and scanned the crowd.

"Bobby," Alessio said from behind, and Bobby felt a tug on his backpack. Alessio continued speaking as Bobby turned to face him. "I can go with you, but I need to be home by 5:30."

Grinning, Bobby said, "Yeah, that's plenty of time."

Bobby ordered an oOber black, setting his destination for Backstage Collectibles. The navy Mercedes entered the line of waiting parents ten minutes later. Alessio caught sight of the vehicle first, extending a finger. "There," Alessio said. "I think that's it."

They hurried for the car, and Bobby opened the passenger door. "Alex?" Bobby asked, holding up his phone.

Alex grunted. "I didn't pay seventy grand for this baby, so I could pick kids up from school," he grumbled, scratching his chin. "Yeah, that's me."

Alessio touched the backdoor handle, uncertain. Bobby gave him a nod. "Front or back seat?" Bobby asked.

"Doesn't matter," Alex said, shaking his head. "You two are potty trained, right?"

Bobby slid into the leather seat. It was soft and contoured, almost hugging him like a good pillow. He heard Alessio do likewise, sitting directly behind Bobby. "This isn't a preschool," Bobby replied. "We're eighteen."

Grunting his response, Alex steered out of line, speeding ahead of the stopped cars and cut in front of someone just before the stop sign. The maneuver caused other drivers to blare their horns. "Shut up," Alex said and turned the radio on, raising the volume.

The drive didn't take long, and Alex pulled into a parking place in front of the store, shutting off the music. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, gentleman," the man said. "If you would kindly exit the vehicle, and leave a pleasant review, I would be eternally grateful."

Alessio snickered, surely scoffing back there. Alex's attitude hadn't changed; he still sounded sulky and irritated. "Can you wait for us?" Bobby asked, opening the door. "We need to get home after this."

"I'm not going to sit around while you guys' sniff video game controllers," Alex replied, flicking his fingers toward Backstage Collectibles. "I have people to haul and money to make, kid."

The ride cost Bobby $60, and he had grown fond of the seats during the drive. "What if I pay you twenty to wait?" Bobby asked. "And leave good reviews."

Alex grunted and checked his watch. "Twenty for every ten minutes you spend in there," he said, shutting off the car.

"Deal," Bobby said and got out, taking his backpack with, and Alex followed them inside. "You don't have to look after us."

"Ha," Alex barked, scrutinizing the pair of boys. "You two look like a couple trolls. I know how it works, ask me to wait while you sneak out the back." He shook his head. "I wasn't born yesterday."

Shrugging, Bobby walked to the counter, getting an employee's attention. The walls were covered in movie posters and signed guitars. "Do you have any Tooler Swaft items?" Bobby asked, glancing inside the glass display case in front of him. "Like signed stuff? Anything from the show 'friends'?"

The woman was pudgy, with short hair, dyed yellow. "Yes, yes, and yes," she replied.

After the lady laid some stuff out, Bobby turned to Alessio. "What do you think Mrs. Anderson would like best?" he asked. There were signed albums and records, along with lanyards with passes inside and shirts. An orange jacket. "Her friend told me she loves the singer."

Alessio shrugged. "This looks good," he said, hovering his finger over the record. It was colorful and flashy.

"That's ten minutes," Alex butted in, showing Bobby his watch.

"Alright," Bobby said to Alex before turning to the woman. "I'll take that, this lanyard, and the friends frame." He pointed at the framed, sleeveless shirt that one of the female characters had worn on the show. There was a picture of the scene inside, and Bobby didn't recognize the woman.

The employee bit her lip. "The frame is $4,300," she said apologetically.

Bobby's jaw dropped. "Are you fucking serious?"

She shrugged her plump shoulders. "Afraid so," she replied.

Bobby looked at Alessio. "What do you think?" he asked. "She has to take it easy on us if we gift her that, especially if you write a nice note."

"Hmm," Alessio muttered. "I don't think she'll accept it. It's too expensive."

Bobby clicked his tongue and pulled out his phone. He dialed Kate. "Hi, Bobby, we just landed," she answered. "Need some womanly advice?"

"Kind of," he said, stepping away from the counter. "I'm looking at a shirt used in that show you mentioned, its expensive though. Do you think she'll accept something like that from me?"

"Oh, you are quite the doll, Bobby," she said. "Which character wore it?"

Bobby looked at the employee. "Who wore the shirt?" he asked.

"Phoebe."

"Someone named Phoebe," Bobby said into the phone.

Kate's tinkling laughter emanated from his phone. "Sweetness, if you buy her that, she might just kidnap you and keep you all to herself," she replied mirthfully.

"What do I say when she asks where I got the money for it?" he asked. "I don't want her calling up my mom or anything."

"How much is it?" Kate asked.

"$4,300," he said hesitantly.

Kate coughed and choked. Bobby heard Megan's voice in the background. "Bobby, what will your mother say when that money goes missing?" she rasped.

Bobby winced as a customer walked into the store, bell chiming. He racked his brain for something to say. "I made the money," he started, deciding to trust her. Anyone who didn't care that their daughter was sending nudes had to be understanding in other areas. "It's an online thing, reposting videos with ads, and my mom doesn't know about it."

"You spent your own money on Megan's dress and shoes?" she asked, her voice soft, almost a purr. "Money you earned?"

"Well, yeah," he said.

"Ooh, I could smother you in smooches, dolly," Kate told him. "If you want to spend that much on Trish, I'll talk to her and put in a good word for you."

"I think I will, thank you," Bobby said, grinning. "If she doesn't call my mom, I'll owe you one. Do you mind mentioning a classmate of mine named Alessio? He suffers her wrath too, and he's a literal genius."

"Will do, daffodil," Kate said, "and I'm going to hold you to that promise. I'll speak to her tonight, ta ta, dear."

Bobby sighed, hoping Mrs. Anderson wouldn't contact his mother. Walking back to the display, Bobby said, "I'll take the stuff I mentioned, including the frame."

The total was just over $6,000, and the woman wrapped the rigid items in gift paper, putting the lanyard in a nice bag with tissue paper. After dropping Alessio off, Bobby texted him, asking him to type out a nice letter to go with the more expensive item.

When Alex pulled up to Bobby's house, he said, "Do you need a bodyguard or something? Spending that much money can draw unwanted attention."

Bobby thought about it, the spying cheerleaders coming to mind. The group of dudes near the atm. He looked Alex up and down; the guy was much bigger than him, muscular. "Would you drive me around too?" he asked, patting the dash.

Alex nodded. "That goes without saying," he said. "Listen, let's do a trial run for a week. Call it five hundred bucks and see how you like it. That's about half as much as I make per week after taxes. I can do my normal routes while you're in school and take you anywhere when you get out."

There was no way he could afford that long term, unless he really started fucking. The idea of a chauffeur appealed to him though, but he did want Dubois to give him rides. He idly shook his head; Alex could always pick him up at home after his teacher dropped him off. "Alright, but you have to drop me off at school in the mornings too," Bobby said, extending his hand. "Deal?"

Alex shook his hand. "Deal, I'll even teach you how to spit game."

Bobby chuckled. "Can you pick me up early tomorrow?" he asked. "At six?"

Alex nodded, only a slight grunt of disapproval in it. "See you then."

*

During dinner, his mom was all smiles. She must have gotten a good price for the gold coins, but he didn't say anything. Mom had been happy, until Brenda opened her mouth.

"I asked some old friends about your girlfriend, Bobby," Brenda said, smirking. "One might say she gets around." She had on a tight, rainbow tube top and hoop earrings.

Amanda and his mother sat on either side of him, the former munching a dinner roll. Jules was in her room, eating by herself. "I heard similar about you," Bobby said.

Brenda laughed, her braless tits jiggling. "You're going to need a doctor when that one is done with you," she retorted and sighed dramatically. "Money can't buy class."

"Bitch, you dress like a homeless hooker and stink like one too," Bobby said, letting go of his fork, it clattered against his near empty plate. "Go wipe your ass better, I can smell your shit from here."

Brenda shot to her feet, pointing a butter knife at him. "I'll stuff your ugly face in a dirty toilet loser, try me!" she shouted. Her phone was tucked into the waist of her white skirt, and her belly button tassel spun madly.

Bobby stood. "Fuck you!"

His mom slammed her palms down on the table. "Enough!" his mother yelled. Amanda looked like she was about to start laughing, darting her eyes back and forth between Bobby and Brenda like she was watching a table tennis match; her lips were fully puckered in restrained amusement. "I am sick and tired of your constant bickering."

"It isn't my fault that a slut took a liking to him," Brenda said, snorting. "If he wasn't such a freak, he wouldn't have to settle for slime like her."

His mom slid her chair back with a screech. "Say one more word, Brenda, and I'll take your damn phone away," Sharon hissed.

Brenda laughed humorlessly and rocked her head from side to side, flapping her lips mockingly. "Oh please, you didn't pay for it," she said, scowling. "Maybe if you had listened to dad, we wouldn't be living in this shithole like roaches. I'm not some child you get to order around anymore."

Bobby seethed. "Fuck you, everything you're wearing is Hector's jizz money," he shouted. "Go slurp his sack for another piercing!"

Brenda snatched her near empty glass of water and hurled the liquid at him. Most of it missed the target, splashing his plate and shoe as Bobby moved away. "At least I'm not an std riddled whore," she retorted, slamming the glass down.

Gripping the back of his chair, Bobby said, "You sure as fuck look like one. If not for Hecky, you'd be getting passed around on a porno set." From beside him, Amanda squeaked and tried to stifle her laughter with a hand.

Brenda sneered at Amanda. "Keep laughing, it won't be funny when you're old and alone, with..."

Mom cut her off with a gesture, closing in on her daughter with a lengthy stride. She lifted her thumb and index finger, almost touching the two. "I'm this close to kicking you out for good," Mom said coldly, her jaw clenched. "I'm hoping that you finish that goddamn sentence so I can be rid of you tonight. I may not have paid for your phone, but I do pay all the bills around here, spending most of my money on food, and you have never lifted so much as a finger to help me. Either keep your mouth shut and show me some respect or say goodbye to the cushy lifestyle I allow you to live."

Her phone threat used to work, even as recently as a few weeks prior. Fucking Brenda, he thought and silently cheered mom on.

Brenda opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it; it was probably the fury in mom's eyes. Hector doesn't want your ass at his place, Bobby thought. Brenda turned, her footsteps growing softer as she got farther away, until they became inaudible. A few breaths later, and she was slamming her door. Once. Twice. A third time. Silence followed.

"You should force her to move in with Hecky," Bobby said and dried his chair off with a napkin before sitting back down. His pasta was doused in water.

Amanda shuddered with laughter. "Hecky, Hecky, give me a pecky," she mocked in a girlish tone.

His mother finally sighed and walked over to him. "I'm sorry, hun," she said, pressing his cheek into her slim stomach. Ran her fingers through his hair. "That girl is a menace."

Amanda continued to make fun of Brenda. Adding some base to her voice, she chanted, "Hecky, Hecky, come and write me a checky."

"Hush, Amanda," mom said softly, her belly taut against Bobby's jaw. "You shouldn't have said those things, Bobby."

*

In the middle of the night, Bobby woke up from a dream where he had been fucking Megan. He still remembered the sheen of sweat on her back and how her cheeks rippled as his hips crashed into her. Sighing, he swung his legs over the side of his bed, cock pinned to his abdomen by his short's waistband. He pushed it down and sideways.

He stumbled into the kitchen and drank a glass of sink water. The TV was still on, and he crept into the room, quiet as Santa. Brenda was asleep on the couch, flat on her stomach and ass exposed with one knee lifted up to her chest. He stared down at his cock and shook his head. Maybe he could ask Alex where to get some sleeping pills. Bobby didn't find himself attracted to her, but the thought of defiling his awful sister brought a smirk to his face.

Maybe I can cum on her foot, he thought and shook his head violently. Better wait for some knockout drugs. His eyes widened, Bobby still had a condom full of jizz in his drawer. Just one little drop in her hair would surely warrant a few thousand dollars. He hurried back to his room.

Opening the drawer, he studied the condom. It was tied so tight that he would have cut off the knot. He searched his cluttered desk and found what he was looking for. Scissor in hand, he snipped the top off the condom, and it fell to the carpet soundlessly. Bobby brought the now opened end to his nose, sniffing. Recoiling in horror, he barely kept hold of the thing. "Gah," he muttered. It must have gone bad, he thought, disgusted.

He picked up the end that had fallen away and rushed to the bathroom. It was too funky to spill on his sister; she would surely smell it and wake up immediately.

*

The next morning, Bobby was up early and set the wrapped 'friends' frame on his mattress, leaving the other two gifts safely hidden under his bed alongside the remaining Porkemon stuff. Alessio had texted him, saying the letter was typed and should do nicely as an apology. Bobby had responded, offering to pick him up for school and hadn't heard back yet.

His phone pinged. It was Alex, informing him that he was outside waiting. Bobby had paid the man his money upfront, figuring he would get robbed or he wouldn't and hadn't worried about it from there. Alex turned out to be trustworthy as far as his day one duties were concerned. At least he wasn't honking the horn.

He quickly got dressed and snuck outside, gently setting the massively expensive gift in the trunk. Alex's face was puffy, with red creases along his cheek and forehead. "You look like garbage," Bobby said, buckling his seat belt.

Grunting, Alex put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. "I get up at nine most days, and I forgot to change the timer on my coffee pot," he said, scratching the stubble lining his jaw.

"Do you remember where Alessio lives?" Bobby asked. "I need to pick something up from his house, and him maybe."

Alex gave a sigh and yawned loudly. "Yeah," he said, tapping his temple. "I've been oObering for five years and recent rides kind of get stuck in my head for a while. I'll be in the store or on a date and poof, I recognize someone I gave a ride to, and their destination pops into my mind."

Bobby chuckled. "It's working out for you," he said, patting the center arm rest. "This is a great fucking car."

Alex changed lanes, speeding by a vehicle about to turn. "I do alright," he said. "No one has puked in this car yet, luckily. It's always drunk girls who do the spewing."

Alessio texted him back. "Mom wants to drop me off," it read.

"No worries, can I come by to pick up the letter?" Bobby texted.

"Yeah, but hurry," Alessio replied.

Bobby put the phone down, tucking it under a leg. "Have any of those girls ever given you a blowjob as a bonus?" he asked, smirking.

Alex laughed, tilting his head. "Eh, a horny fat chick did once and an older lady took me up to her place," he said, rubbing his elbow. "Both happened after I got the Mercedes."

Snickering, Bobby said, "How are you going to teach me anything when you only got lucky twice?"

Alex snorted, turning on his blinker and got in the right lane. "That's twice on the job, kid, with women I only knew for fifteen minutes," he corrected, holding up a finger. "Outside of work, I get plenty of pussy. I'm fucking a pair of strippers right now and a barista."

"Oh, that's pretty good," Bobby relented. "I've gotten my dick sucked a couple times and some handjobs but that's it."

"Not bad," Alex said, grinning. "What are you, a sophomore?"

"I'm a senior," Bobby corrected.

"Never mind, you've been lagging," Alex said and turned, using one hand to manipulate the wheel. "You should stop wasting your money on teachers, unless you think you have a chance of fucking them. I had Mrs. Anderson my senior year too, you know, and there's no way in hell she fucks a student. Fancy dates and charm is the only way to go at your age. Take a girl somewhere nice and she'll be creaming her pants by the end of the night. Lift weights too, join the football team. Even better if you're good."

Bobby watched Alessio's house grow bigger and bigger. "Having a driver can't hurt either," Bobby said, crooked smile tugging his lip. "A driver that can buy me vodka and shit."

Parking across from Alessio's house, Alex said, "Illegal stuff will cost you extra and if any of your little girlfriends' puke in my car, you're cleaning it up."

Bobby hopped out, ignoring Alex's final words and jogged up to Alessio's front door. He knocked. Alex hadn't said no about booze, which was a good sign and the fact that the man knew strippers was a bonus. They were known for loving all kinds of drugs.

Alessio's mom answered, wearing a tight-fitting yellow dress that sat just above the knees. Alessio's dad must have been darker skinned because his mother was pale and had orange hair, woven into a braid that disappeared down her back. "Good morning, Bobby," she said, stepping aside. "The letter is on the kitchen table. Alessio is in the shower but come in and grab it."

"Thanks, Ms. Granger," he said, walking past her and caught the scent of coffee in the air. He decided against asking for a cup for Alex; the guy could get some later. There was an envelope sitting on the table with neat cursive writing that spelled out 'Mrs. Anderson.'

"How are your studies coming?" Ms. Granger asked.

The woman had a rather large nose that dropped halfway down the bridge, and she wore little makeup. Bobby wouldn't call her pretty, but she did have nice legs and breasts. "No complaints," he said and grabbed the letter.

*

Peeking through Mrs. Anderson's window, Bobby sighed and slowly opened the door, her gift under one arm. It was fifteen minutes before school started, and she was already sitting behind her table, grading papers with a frown on her face. She looked up, meeting his eye, expression unchanging.

He cursed himself inwardly for not calling Kate to make sure they had spoken. Clearing his throat, he said, "Morning, Mrs. Anderson. Do you have a minute?" Bobby shuffled his feet, stopping in front of her.

"Good morning, Bobby, what can I do for you?" she asked, setting down her red marker.

Bobby gave a little cough. "Did um, did Kate give you a call yesterday?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably. There was no way he'd hand over the framed shirt without confirmation.

Mrs. Anderson's eyes narrowed. "She did, sang your praises as if you were her own flesh and blood," she said sharply. "Referred to you as an angel in fact." Mrs. Anderson's tone implied that her own opinion differed on the matter.

He took a lung full of air, gulping, and Bobby placed the gift in front of her. "It's from Alessio and me," he said, adding the envelope next to the bow. "Kate mentioned some things you like, and I decided to get this for you. As an apology for what I did in your class and the other times I've misbehaved."

Her lips were pressed into a thin line. "How kind of you," she said flatly, unmoved by the gesture. "Now beat it, I have work to do."

When it was time for Mrs. Anderson's class, Bobby met Alessio at his locker. Alessio was hurriedly munching a bag of leftover chips. "Did you give it to her?" Alessio asked, dumping crumbs into his mouth.

"Yeah," Bobby replied.

The bag crinkled as Alessio balled it up. "Well?" he asked eagerly. "Did it work?"

Bobby shrugged slowly. "I couldn't tell," he replied. "She sent me away without opening it."

"Hmm," Alessio muttered, closing his locker.

They joined the crowd of rushing students. "I guess we'll find out soon enough," Bobby said, avoiding a collision with a football player.

Alessio drew the back of his hand across his forehead. "I'm nervous, no teacher has ever yelled at me like that before," he admitted.

"You got off easy," Bobby said, recalling an incident where spittle had flown directly into his face. Walking into her classroom, he didn't see the gift anywhere; not on the table near her desk, not on her desk, not on the floor where she sometimes kept her purse, and not in the trash. Unless it was buried at the bottom.

Mrs. Anderson was writing on the markerboard with her back turned. She was wearing a maroon, sleeveless shirt that buttoned, made of material that shimmered as her tattooed arm moved. It was tucked into extremely faded jeans. She had a little butt, nothing special but it had some shape to it.

As if sensing Bobby's eyes on her, she turned, locking gazes with him. She dismissed him a moment later to look at Alessio. Their teacher didn't spend much time on Alessio either and went back to what she had been doing. The woman didn't rage at them, so that was something.

When the bell rang after class, Mrs. Anderson pointed at them. "You two, stay," she said forcefully.

The final student fleeing, Mrs. Anderson strode up to their table and crossed her arms. Glared at each of them in turn. She opened her mouth to speak. Closed it. She definitely unwrapped it, Bobby thought.

Her expression softened. "Whose idea was it to get me that?" she asked.

Alessio audibly sighed. "Bobby's, and he paid for everything," Alessio spat the words out like a speed reader, as if he couldn't hold back the flood. "I just went with and only selected one of the things. Please, don't be mad at us." He interlocked his fingers in front of his face, hope in his eyes, and Bobby suppressed a grin.

Mrs. Anderson pinched the bridge of her nose. The muscles in her jaw rippled. "Thank you," she said. "The letter was particularly well written and endearing, Alessio, I'm assuming you wrote it?"

Alessio glanced at Bobby, hair swishing. "He wrote it," Bobby said. "Alessio is more..." he paused, searching for the correct word.

The ghost of a smile played at Mrs. Anderson's lips. "Eloquent than you?" she proposed.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed, nodding.

Alessio's fingers drummed the table nervously. "Did you like it?" he asked softly.

"Ugh," Mrs. Anderson growled lightly. "What am I going to do with you two. Yes, Alessio, it was thoughtful." Her eyes roved over Bobby, then Alessio. "Go on, get yourselves some lunch."

*

Megan awaited him outside of Dubois' classroom, sitting on her butt, back propped against a locker. "Nice going, dummy," she said, pushing off the ground. "What kind of idiot gets caught like that?"

He assumed she was talking about leaking her tit pic to Mrs. Anderson. "Me, apparently," he said, smiling sheepishly.

She hugged him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her soft body into his. "And what did you do to my mom?" Megan asked and let him go. "She can't stop talking about how sweet you are."

Bobby shrugged, and they walked into class together. "She helped me bride Mrs. Anderson," he said, smiling at Dubois and raising a hand.

Megan snorted and lowered her voice. "Are you free tonight?" she asked, plopping her backpack on her desk. "My mom wants you to come over for dinner."

Nodding his head, Bobby said, "Yeah, sure."

Megan smiled and spoke directly into his ear. "If Emma goes narcoleptic before mom gets home, we're going to have some fun with her," she teased.

Bobby slid into his chair. "You know some girls took video of us in the mall?" he asked, unlocking his phone. "Nosy bitches followed us around. Here, I'll send them to you." Selecting both videos, Bobby texted them to Megan.

Her eyes widened, and she ducked her head closer to Bobby. "Did they catch us outside?" Megan whispered as her phone buzzed.

"No, just me grabbing your ass in the store, and you going into my dressing room," he replied in a similar tone.

She pulled up the videos, watching them silently, her brow furrowing in anger as they played. "Cunts," Megan muttered as the bell rang. Jumping off his desk, she took her own seat after tugging up the corner of her blue jeans with a shake of her hips.

As Dubois taught, Bobby daydreamed about what to spend his money on. Over sixty thousand dollars, he reflected, waggling his toes in his worn sneakers. Bobby's mind drifted to his mother and whether she was in the clear regarding bills and debt. Could he plant another bag of gold coins in the basement? Maybe he could buy rare coins or an old watch to hide.

"Hello, earth to dummy," Megan said, waving a hand in front of his face.

Bobby shook his head. Students were clearing out of the room, someone's shoes squeaked. "What?" he asked, pretending like he had been alert the entire time.

"What are we going to do about the bitches who spied on us?" Megan said, sounding annoyed, as if she had repeated herself at least once. "I'm not letting this go."

He hadn't given revenge any thought. "Nothing, they were probably just bored," Bobby said with a shrug. "Where do you live by the way? What time did your mom want me to get there?"

Megan's eyes were narrowed. "She gets off work at five," she said, allowing him to change the subject. "That gives us plenty of time to have some fun."

*

Alex picked Bobby and Megan up. "Who is this?" Megan asked as she piled into the back seat.

"The name is Alex, who are you?" Alex replied tersely.

"He's sort of my bodyguard," Bobby said, sitting in front.

Megan laughed. "Why do you need a bodyguard?" The trio bickered, shooting the shit until they reached Megan's house.

As soon as the front door shut behind them, the devilish look Megan gave him sent a tidal wave of arousal through him. "Follow me, virgin," she said, turning down a hallway with family photos lining the walls.

She opened a door, staring back at him and slipped inside, her boob pressing against the doorjamb. Bobby followed. The room was a faint shade of yellow, with dirty clothes strewn about or dangling from a chair and the corner of a dresser. There were posters of different bands and male singers Bobby disliked hanging on the walls, along with two full bookshelves on either side of the bed.

Emma was asleep on top of the covers and sucking one of her thumbs, her jaw muscles working. Megan sat next to her older sister and slid her dress up, revealing a pair of off white panties. "Come on, virgin, get your pants off," Megan ordered as she caressed Emma's golden thigh.

He gulped, stepping forward, eyes drawn to the woman's butt cheeks, where pale skin showed against her deep tan. She had a fat ass, plump and bouncy, better than Megan's. Reaching for his button, Bobby undid his pants as his heart thundered in his chest. "You're so bad, Megan," he said, willing to do anything she suggested, nearly.

She gazed at his throbbing length. Licked her lips. "You have no fucking idea, virgin," she said, slipping her fingers into her sister's underwear and pulled them down to her knees before running her middle finger up Emma's crack. It disappeared for a moment between those thick cheeks. When it reappeared, Megan made it vanish again, plunging the digit into her mouth.

Bobby kicked his shoes off, cock flapping as he hopped, trying not to fall while he ditched his pants. Megan giggled, undressing herself calmy from where she lay next to Emma. When Bobby freed himself, he stopped her progress, crossing the gap in an instant and pressed his lips into hers.

She bit him hungrily, using one hand to hold his head in place and the other to stroke his cock. Their tongues clashed and he tasted blood. Megan pulled back. "Slow down," she said, breath coming in swift gouts and let go of his shaft.

Her neck was already coated in a thin layer of sweat, and Bobby buried his face into her sweet, fragrant flesh. She smelled like desire, and he lost himself in that scent, licking her delicate skin and smearing his own blood across it. "Shit," he muttered and stopped, touching his lip.

Megan flung her pants away, black thong catching her heel and stayed behind as she spread her legs, rubbing her fingers along her sex. A clearer invitation had never been sent, and Bobby dove on her, getting between her knees. His bloody lip was an inconsequential and distant memory. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him in place with all her strength and driving Bobby's hips and manhood into her pubic mound. "Shut up, dummy," Megan said, yanking his shirt up.

He raised his arm, propping himself on one elbow, and Megan ripped the shirt off awkwardly. It landed on Emma's back, her substantial ass jiggling from their frantic movements. Megan's grip on him lessened, and she reached down, taking his length in hand and guiding him inside of her. When he felt his tip enter Megan's warm embrace, he ground his hips forward into her wet, tightness. "Ah, you feel fucking good," he moaned dumbly.

Megan latched onto him with her boney ankles and calves again, forcing him deeper until his sack met her sweaty nether region. A bolt of pleasure struck him as Megan arched her neck, digging the back of her head into the pillow and exhaling violently. Bobby couldn't move if he wanted to, she had him pinned and clamped all at once but that was enough for now. All he could handle. "Do you like it, virgin?" she hissed, baring her bottom row of teeth.

Her squeeze relented, and Bobby's length slipped out halfway. He gasped, not realizing he had been trying to back out of her the entire time. Her fleshy ridges grazed his throbbing cock, cloying and terribly soft. "Fucking good," Bobby managed to rasp, holding his breath.

She moaned and groped his flexed chest with her fingers, roughly. Scratched him. Megan tensed her legs like a cue for him to move. Hovering above her and propped on both fists, Bobby gripped the comforter and pumped his hips. Her dripping, creamy flesh, parted for his spear, and Bobby convulsed, erupting inside of Megan and dashing her cervix and walls with his seed. "You're such a virgin," she breathed, teasing him still and pulled him to her; his chest against her covered breasts and bearing most of Bobby's weight.

He shuddered, groaning as his cock spasmed. "Shut up, ho," Bobby muttered, huffing in her face before pressing his lips into hers. He knew she was about to criticize him again and didn't want to hear it at that moment. Bobby was sure Megan hadn't felt as good as him. Maybe Dubois would offer some tips, he could not survive the shame of asking Megan what to do. "Fuck!" He released her mouth with a smack. "I forgot to use a condom."

She giggled, running a finger along his neck. "You are the condom," she said and tensed her legs before unwrapping them from Bobby's hips.

"What the fuck does that mean?" he asked with a crooked grin and got off her, pushing to his knees. His member glistened from their combined fluids, still swollen and beating.

Megan shook her head, wry grin teasing the corners of her mouth. "Don't worry, I told you I'd let you come inside me," she said, running a hand through her frazzled hair. "How was it?"

It had been overwhelming, for as long as it lasted, like a powerful tidal wave that swept him in any direction it pleased. Powerless was how he truly felt. Small.

"Amazing," he said, the brief act had felt incredible, his feelings notwithstanding. "But, are you on birth control?" He eyed her leaking pussy and smirked, she was getting his cum all over Emma's bed.

She followed his line of sight, quirking an eyebrow. Reaching for his seed, she said, "Yes, can you go again?"

He watched her shove two fingers in, and Bobby glanced at her sleeping sister. What was wrong with them? "Come over here," he said, walking backward on his knees, "and turn around."

Flushed, Megan crawled forward on her hands. Grasping his rigid shaft, she forcefully drew his tip across her lips like cold ChapStilk. Her tongue slipped out, flicking Bobby's glans before swallowing him to the root. "Gulk. Gulk." She choked and coughed, expelling his cock from her throat. Her eyes watered, going red, but Megan went back for another helping. "Gulk. Gulk." Her head bobbed rapidly, and she gagged, throat muscles clenching around his slick manhood.

His mind was a thrumming haze and all he could do was pant like a dog. "Stop," Bobby croaked, grabbing a handful of her damp hair, a couple strands snapping. She bit down, and he sucked his teeth, holding her hair tighter in response to the slight pain. Megan stopped, mouth still full and made eye contact before sinking her teeth into him again. "Ow." Bobby flinched and balled his fist on the side of her head, yanking her hair, and she withdrew her teeth with a purring moan before lashing his rod with her tongue.

"Mmm, mmm," Megan gargled, thick webs of saliva gushed from her mouth and traveled down his shaft, coating his taut sack and dribbling lower.

Bobby let out a guttural, hissing breath. Squeezing his fist tightly, he pulled her closer, forcing more of himself down her throat until her running nose met his abdomen. Megan seemed to melt as he directed her with her hair, following his lead without protest or teeth. "Gah, shit," he bellowed, holding her firmly in place and bucked his hips before pulling her off.

She gasped, drawing in a spluttering breath. "That was fucking hot," Megan said, her chin dripping. Megan turned around, giving Emma's ass a squeeze as she rotated on her knees. She waggled her cheeks before him. Rubbing her darkly toned, meaty pussy, Megan flaunted her assets with an arched back. Her aggressive fingers sloshed, mixing up her lips and revealing the most enticing shade of pink he had ever seen.

"Fuck," he muttered, sweat beading on his brow and directed his cock toward her entrance.

Her fingers stopped when she felt his prick and grasped his shaft, impaling herself and driving her hips into him with a moan. Her momentum forced him backward as his dick vanished, swallowed by her weeping warmth. She nearly knocked him on his ass. Moving forward, she unslung his shining length and ground her hips back again. He met her motion with an awkward thrust, and they smacked together as the headboard knocked against the wall. Megan took in a sucking breath, and they collided once more. "Fuck me," she moaned and tossed her head like a moody horse.

A blossoming chill radiated through him, and he grabbed her tan hips. His cock felt like a swelling diamond that was about to shatter, and he grimaced. A mute snarl. He tensed his stomach and plunged into her suctioning tightness with a slap, trying to keep pace so he wouldn't be knocked over his feet like a rag doll. "Slow down," he groaned, pushing with his hands, but her skin was slick and she didn't listen.

"Right there," she hissed, looking back at him and baring her teeth. "Ah." She cried out and buried her face in a pillow. Her body shuddered as the bedframe bashed the wall and something fell. Her ass cheeks smashed against him, jiggling and wobbling as sweaty juice ran down his sack.

Clutching her hips, he tried stemming the tide, not wanting his pleasure to end, but Megan kept gyrating and filling herself with his fuming rod. He let out a moan, feeling himself swell and she tightened around him with her clinging flesh. It was too fucking intense. So good that it pained him, and he convulsed, letting loose a yelping breath as his cock spasmed and released.

Megan's horizontal movement stopped, but she wriggled slightly as his buried manhood filled her. He pulled her hips, pinning her ass against himself and delving as deep as he could, pumping everything inside of her.

Panting, his jaw slackened. "Fuck," he sighed and slid out an inch, her lips trailing his shaft. Pushed back in, slowly. His cock fired again, and with some effort, he pulled all the way out.

Megan flopped onto her back, giving him a wicked grin. "That was pretty fucking good, virgin," she said.

He chuckled, crawling off the foot of the bed and stood. "Yeah," Bobby agreed, feeling fully spent. "Are you going to call me that forever?"

"Are you going to stop me?" Megan asked.

She had raised her knees, and Bobby couldn't see her expression, but it sounded like a challenge. The way she had bitten his cock the second time flashed through his mind; she wanted him to be rough with her. He didn't know for certain though, and it was a great question to ask Dubois, assuming he was willing to tell her about it. Getting his teacher to demonstrate things was near the top of his bucket list, and inquiring about sex may lead there. "Yeah," Bobby said, and grabbed one of Emma's crumpled tank tops, "but not right now."

Megan giggled, and Bobby wiped his wet dick and balls on the shirt.

*

"You two should have showered," Alex said, wrinkling his nose. "You smell like pussy and dick and butt."

Megan slammed the car door, situating herself behind Bobby. "Fuck you, asshole, no we don't," she fired back.

Alex glared at her, the car rocking from the force of the slam. He looked at Bobby for help, or to chastise Megan and when Bobby only smirked, Alex said, "Well, you look like you smell like it, and that's worse."

"Can you buy us some wine?" Bobby asked, directing the conversation elsewhere. After they had showered separately, Megan had said that her mom allowed her to have wine with dinner sometimes, if said wine was so good that Kate raved about it. After that, she would be more lenient for the rest of night, and Megan wanted to get drunk.

"That's why you called me?" Alex asked and touched his heart.

"Yeah," Bobby said, "and weed from a dispensary, if you're up for it." He held off asking about sleeping pills for Brenda in front of Megan, but he had a suspicion that she wouldn't mind.

Alex frowned and put the car in gear. "You know that's illegal, right?"

"Who is this fucking dude, Bobby?" Megan questioned, butting in. "I know people that can get us both, we don't need this douchebag."

Bobby laughed as Alex pulled away from the curb. "I didn't say I wouldn't," Alex said, shrugging. "There are risks involved in handing booze over to a couple newborns, and I think I deserve a little compensation." Alex adjusted the rear-view mirror. "Nothing crazy, just a bottle of Jick Dunnels."

Megan grumbled, and Bobby couldn't make out what she said. "That's fine," Bobby said, even though he disliked the idea of getting shaken down every time he wanted alcohol. He had the money, and Bobby supposed there was some risk to it. His bank account was a touch over $195,000. Having sex with and finishing inside Megan twice had granted him $120,000 by itself, not including the blowjob she had given him. Interestingly, cumming inside her was more lucrative than the sex by $10,000.

They reached the dispensary first, and to Bobby's shock, Alex left the car running for them. It was a button start, and as Bobby sat there, he came to the conclusion that there must be some mechanism stopping the car from being stolen.

"How long have you had a bodyguard?" Megan asked, emphasizing the last word in a mocking tone.

Bobby turned to face her, grinning. "You don't like him?"

"He acts like a frat boy loser," she said, scoffing. "Doesn't even know me but feels the need to tell me I stink like sex."

It had been rude, but Alex was an ass from the beginning. "Maybe he's jealous that I got to see what's underneath those clothes," Bobby said. "That pretty pussy and tight ass. Your dirty fucking mouth. I'd be mad too."

She suppressed a grin. "Shut up, virgin, what do you know about it?" Megan teased.

"You're like a shark with that on/off button they have," he said. "They're all teeth and danger until you flip them upside down."

Megan blinked at him. "You think you can handle a shark?" she asked, tinkling laugher escaped her lips. "Turn one upside down and control it?"

Bobby had no response for that. He was in over his head. What the fuck had he been thinking, trying to talk like that. Like he didn't just cum in record time, back-to-back. Fuck me, he thought and gulped, regaining some of his lack of confidence. I did alright the second time though, he amended.

Alex saved him by opening the car door and climbing in. Thank fucking god, Bobby thought, hoping there wasn't a word for shark wrangler that Megan could use against him. Alex tossed a box of pre rolls into Bobby's lap and fished the receipt out of his pocket, handing it to him. There was a ten-dollar bill folded within, and Bobby moved to stuff it in his wallet.

"Hold on," Megan said seriously. "Turn it upside down and make sure it's the real thing."

Alex recoiled, as if she had claimed the car belonged to her now. "Huh?" he grunted, peering in the back seat.

Bobby glared at her but the innocent, dumb look on her face disarmed him. She was making fun of him, sure, but she wasn't letting Alex in on it as far as he could tell. Pressing his lips into a flat line, Bobby turned the bill over and wracked his brain for something to say. He couldn't insult her, less it backfire catastrophically, so he opted for the next best thing. "You're right, Alex does seem shifty but the ten looks fine," Bobby said, staring at her. "If a little beat up and scratched."

"You think I walk around with half printed, fake money?" Alex asked, looking at Megan with a scowl on his face.

"I wouldn't put it past you," Megan said with a lecherous grin and crossed her arms over her chest.

They reached the liquor store ten minutes later. The drive had been quiet, awkward, and Bobby spent most of the ride gorgling the best wines. Prices had surprised him somewhat; Bobby expected them to be in the neighborhood of a thousand dollars each but that wasn't the case. He screenshotted a handful of bottles and sent the pictures to Alex.

After Alex chose a parking place far away from any other cars, Bobby gave him the nine, one hundred dollar bills he still had. "Can you get at least six bottles?" Bobby asked and leaned over, stuffing his wallet back in his pocket. "Try to get the ones I texted you but if they don't have that just mix and match with other pricey shit. Maybe ask someone who knows about it."

Alex nodded. "Do you need a corkscrew?"

Bobby turned, facing Megan and raised his eyebrows. She had a little smirk on her face. "We have corkscrews," Megan said, tucking a length of hair behind her ear.

"Alright, I'll be right back," Alex grunted and gingerly closed the door after getting out.

Bobby scratched his cheek. "What is your mom going to make?" he asked, facing forward and peering out the windshield. A woman was pushing a mini cart with a case of beer and two jugs of vodka. He could hear the wheels rattling as she moved.

"Probably a roast," Megan said and sighed. "Potatoes, carrots. It takes forever to cook when she makes it, and we probably won't eat before eleven. Don't be surprised if she forces us to play a board game while it's in the oven."

He liked Jinga and Monop, and he had played Yaksee with Alessio before but that was it. Bobby's family went their separate ways after dinner, choosing to spend time alone or with Hecky, in Brenda's case. "What game?" Bobby asked.

"Scrubble, my mom fucking loves it," Megan said. "Inviting you over for dinner could be her excuse to play doubles."

"Huh," he said. Bobby wasn't a wordsmith to say the least, but it didn't sound so bad. He knew some big words. Freeing his phone from his pocket, Bobby texted his mom, letting her know about the late dinner Megan's mom was making. She replied in the positive, asking that he keep in touch. The woman allowed her kids plenty of leeway as long as they weren't failing any classes, and Bobby had never cashed in the leeway before.

Megan snorted. "You're such a dork," she said and kneed him through the seat. "That's all you have to say? I thought you would be mad; Johny was, Andrew was, even Phil grumbled about it, and he's a chess player."

"I don't need a list of the people you've been with," Bobby muttered.

"Don't worry, they're all terrible in bed," she complained and climbed over the armrest, grabbing the pre rolls in his lap. "Andrew tried rubbing my clit with a knuckle."

Bobby held back a chuckle; Megan said the last as if he knew what she meant. "I don't want to hear about that," he said, wincing.

She laughed and kissed his cheek before sitting. "I didn't say anything when I found out my sister blew you," Megan said.

He snickered. "You're the one who put my dick in her mouth," Bobby said.

Giggling, Megan said, "That made me so hot."

A while later, the trunk snicked open, followed by a thud and the chiming of glass bottles colliding.

*

Megan opened her front door, and Bobby followed her into the house, carrying the wine. They had been placed in a cardboard box with the flaps folded inward and the necks sticking out, taller than the rim. Conversation reached their ears as they headed for the kitchen, Emma must have woken from her nap.

When he turned the corner, Bobby froze. Megan's mom was trimming a large hunk of meat, and standing next to her, smiling and cutting potatoes, was Mrs. Anderson. "Shit," he whispered and sent a glare Megan's way, but she only shrugged innocently.

Kate must have heard him because she lifted her head and said, "Don't worry, doll. Tricia left her teacher's cap at home. You won't mind sharing a table with her, will you, Bobby?" Kate's cheeks bunched into sweet smile. "I ran into her at the grocery store and couldn't bear the thought of her eating alone and grading papers all night."

Bobby's feet moved of their own accord, walking closer to the marble countertop. "No, of course not," he answered and cleared his throat, chancing a peek in Mrs. Anderson's direction. She was staring at him. "Er, hi, Mrs. Anderson."

Megan's mother laughed, wiping her brow with the back of her hand; the one holding the knife. "Call her Tricia, sweetness," Kate said and blew a hair out of her face. "I won't stand for any titles under my roof."

Mrs. Anderson protested silently, sneering at the back of Kate's head. What a fucking shitshow, Bobby thought. Before anyone could respond, Kate said, "Ooh, what do we have here." She hurried over and eyed the box. "Is this for me, dolly?" Her voice was sugar, and her skin was glittering cinnamon.

Bobby nodded, setting the bottles on the counter. "Yeah, I hope you like them," he said, awkwardly and caught Mrs. Anderson making another face.

"Alcohol?" Mrs. Anderson asked. "Who bought it for you?" The tattooed woman peered over Kate's shoulder, leaving the potatoes behind.

"Oh, hush, Trish," Kate said and set her knife down, freeing her clean hand to grab a bottle. When she read the label, something akin to a moan escaped her throat. "A 97' Rimshaw Gantcliff. I knew this was going to be a good night." She gave the bottle to Megan. "Open it for me, will you?"

Megan grinned, striding past the fridge and rifling through a drawer.

"Kate, the damn boy just brought booze into your home," Mrs. Anderson said, looking none too pleased.

Kate freed another bottle, making that sound again. "They are both adults, and we were far worse at an even younger age," she said and winked at Bobby before lowering her voice. "Trish and I had fake ids before high school."

Bobby chuckled, resting a hand on the edge of the counter; he was acutely aware of them and didn't know where to put the damn things. "Thanks for inviting me to dinner," he said, feeling Mrs. Anderson's stare and decided not to comment on their youth.

Kate wasn't having it. "You should have seen us, getting drunk before and after class, smoking cigarettes, dancing all night," she said fondly and raised her arms above her head, languidly moving her body to music only she could hear. She twirled, facing Mrs. Anderson and treating Bobby to eyeful of backside. "Ease up on him, Trish, he's a damn sight nicer than other boy's I've met."

Mrs. Anderson's jaw clenched. Her gaze flicked to Bobby, and he looked away. "Fine, but I better not hear him repeating anything you've said," Mrs. Anderson replied.

A hollow thunk sounded, and Megan said, "Mom, stop dancing, nobody wants to see that." She tossed the cork into the sink, where it bounced and somersaulted.

Her mom sent her a withering look. "You're no fun either," she pouted and stopped. She redirected her attention back to Mrs. Anderson. "Thank you, now pour us all a glass while I get everything in the oven."

Mrs. Anderson heaved a sigh before opening a cabinet and grabbing four glasses. Bobby's eyes widened. "Are you going to waste the 97' on them?" Mrs. Anderson asked, sucking her tongue. "Its nuances will be lost on them."

Bobby smirked. He had never heard Mrs. Anderson use anything close to a playful tone before and it kind of excited him. "You're right, I can't tell the difference," he said, slightly annoyed that she would keep him from trying something that he bought.

Kate arranged potatoes and chunks of carrot on the bottom of a baking pan. "She's only teasing you," Kate assured him. "Megan, take Bobby and Trish into the dining room and get the Scrubble board set up. I'll join you in a few minutes."

Megan took a half-filled glass from Mrs. Anderson and shot Bobby a grin. "What did I tell you?" she asked and had a sip of the wine. "My mom dreams of Scrubble."

Kate flapped a wrist in Megan's direction, eyeing Bobby. "Don't listen to her," she said, as Mrs. Anderson handed him a glass of dark red liquid. "She secretly loves playing; we always have fun."

Mrs. Anderson placed the wine bottle on the dining table, and Megan left to fetch the board. Bobby sat as far away from Mrs. Anderson as possible and took a gulp of wine, wiping his chin where a drop had escaped his lips. "Relax, Bobby, as long as you keep your mouth shut about the drinking we won't have any problems," Mrs. Anderson said, swirling the liquid in her glass.

"I won't say anything," Bobby replied and swallowed another mouthful. He grimaced, willing it to kick in so he could calm down.

Mrs. Anderson shook her head slowly. "It isn't meant to be chugged," she said. "The flavor is strong and anything more than a sip can be off putting. Ask Kate for beer if you only want to get drunk."

Bobby scooted his chair in. "I thought it was supposed to be terrible," he said, lips still turned up in a grimace.

She sipped hers and sat down. "What do you taste?" Mrs. Anderson asked.

He rubbed his cheek, feeling like he was back in class and being called upon to answer an impossible question. The flavor that came to mind wasn't something he wished to speak aloud. "Er, I don't know, cherry?" he lied. Saying piss would surely put her in a worse mood.

Mrs. Anderson had another sip, made a thoughtful expression. "You taste cherry?" she asked, seemingly interested in his opinion.

Bobby tensed, feeling guilty about the lie in the face of her earnestness. He decided to be honest; she already disliked him at best and if she hated him for the truth then so be it. "No, I made that up, all I taste is, well... it tastes like crap." He stopped himself from revealing his full feelings.

She sighed and drank more, the tattoo on her neck shifting as she swallowed. "Christ, Bobby, do I frighten you that much?" Mrs. Anderson asked and gestured at his near empty glass.

He slid it over, carefully. "A bit, yeah," Bobby admitted, another near truth. The reality was that he expected her to rip his head off any moment, or worse, smile and reveal long rows of serrated and pointy teeth.

"I suppose that is to be expected, considering how I run a classroom," she said, giving him a refill. "If I order you to relax again, will that help?"

Bobby chuckled lightly. "Probably not," he said and leaned forward, retrieving his glass and taking a tiny sip.

"How about we start over?" Mrs. Anderson asked. "I'm Patricia, it's a pleasure to meet you..." Her eyebrows rose.

"Bobby," he supplied, despite the surprise at hearing a different name than Tricia. "Er, good to meet you, too."

Mrs. Anderson drained her wine and splashed some more into her glass. "Do you come to this bar often?" she questioned.

He laughed, some tension leaving his chest. "No, I'm not much of a drinker," Bobby replied and copied her, swirling the contents of his wineglass.

"What brings you here now?" She inquired, smelling her wine.

"My boss has been breathing down my neck all month," he replied. "I needed to get out and relax." Belatedly, he realized that his statement landed pretty close to home. He took another gulp, covering up his reflexive head jerk.

"A real tyrant, is she?" Mrs. Anderson asked, rolling the stem of her glass between her fingers. She hadn't looked at him since their reintroduction.

He held up his hands. "No, no, she's great," Bobby said, afraid even to speak negatively about his hypothetical, female boss.

Mrs. Anderson raised her eyebrows. "That bad, huh?" she asked and whistled.

Megan strolled into the dining room, carrying another bottle and the Scrubble board. She sat her empty glass down and put the game box between Bobby and Mrs. Anderson. Grabbing her bottle, she dumped wine out, filling her glass nearly to the rim and sat next to Bobby. "You're alive then?" Megan asked, grinning and drank thirstily. The ruby colored liquid left a faint trail curling away from her lips. She licked them. "I've never had Trish as a teacher, but I hear she's quite the shark. Is it true?"

Bobby gaped at her, and he swore there was a twinkle in her eye.

Mrs. Anderson cleared her throat. "Stop trying to get him in trouble," she said, lifting the lid off the box and leaning it against the wall on the floor.

Megan huffed and raised her glass in front of Bobby, and he clinked his into it. He drained his wine and scowled. "This one is better," Megan said and snatched his glass. She pointed at the bottle near Mrs. Anderson with her pinky. "That 69' tastes like hot piss and cigarette."

Bobby coughed and snickered, covering his mouth with a fist. "It wasn't so bad when I tried a speck," he said after recovering.

Megan snorted and topped him off. "Are you going to suck up to her all night?" she asked.

Bobby felt Mrs. Anderson's eyes on him, probably enjoying his discomfort. What was I thinking, agreeing to this damn dinner, he thought, and glanced at Mrs. Anderson. She seemed to be holding back a smile, or maybe it was the curved glass distorting her lips. "No, I do that with my grades," he said, some of the alcohol finally setting in.

Mrs. Anderson laughed, a single, short bark of it. "All those C papers and B- test scores really get me going," she replied and lazily swung a fist across her body.

Bobby grinned, accepting the glass from Megan as her mom swooped into the room, carrying a third bottle. Kate surveyed the seating arrangement and shook her head. "Up," Kate said, gesturing at her daughter. "First game pairings are Bobby and I."

He was partially relieved when Megan stood and rounded the table. Kate had never teased him or put him in an awkward position during any of their limited interactions. She settled into the chair beside Bobby and pulled out the board, tiles, and little stands. "We each get our own rack, sweetness, and alternate turns between us," Kate explained. "Unless you want to play the variant where we share a single rack?"

"No!" Megan and Mrs. Anderson said in unison.

"It'll just be you playing for him," Megan said.

"I agree," Mrs. Anderson added. "That would be unfair."

Kate scoffed, flapping a hand like she was swatting away a fly. "What do you say?" she asked Bobby. "You're the guest, doll, you get to choose."

There was no way he would pass up an opportunity to irritate Megan. "Let's brain share, I need all the help I can get," Bobby said and took a swig. The wine Megan had picked was a lot better.

"How did I know you were going to say that," Megan said, situating a rack in front of Mrs. Anderson and herself. "You're such a cheater."

Bobby laughed as Kate began fishing tiles from the sack, the wooden pieces clacking and chittering. "It isn't cheating, it's a variant," he said.

Kate murmured her agreement, arranging their tiles on the rack after handing the bag to Mrs. Anderson. When she finished, Kate drank from her glass and sighed, patting Bobby's thigh. Her eyes were fixed on the letters in front of them, and her hand didn't linger but its effects did. A drop of adrenaline raced through him as Megan and Mrs. Anderson whispered, discussing what to play, he supposed.

Leaning into him, Kate whispered in his ear, "Any ideas, sugar?"

Her breath was hot and damp. Bobby could think of several things he wanted to do with her, but he ignored those thoughts in favor of studying their letters. Kate had fussed with the rack, and it read: brevisj. He considered for a moment. "Uh, rib, or sir," he said into her ear, softly. "Oh, jive would be good."

Kate tittered and had a mouthful of wine. "Whenever I start jiving, Megan yells at me for embarrassing her," she said in a hushed tone. "You're impressive for a novice, honeybun, go ahead and play jive." She reached across the board, touching a square. "Put the j here and continue this way." Her finger swiped downward.

He followed her instructions, and Kate kept score as Megan and Mrs. Anderson drained their glasses together. Megan had probably been trying to convince Mrs. Anderson to drink with her, he thought. Mrs. Anderson grimaced, and Bobby smirked at her, knowing how intensely pissy the 97' tasted.

Kate pulled more tiles from the bag, and Megan slapped down a word. "Hmm," Kate muttered, rubbing her chin and glancing at Bobby. "This one is easy, doll, I'll place it myself if you don't mind."

The rack read: riblets. Bobby shrugged. "Nice find," he said.

She beamed back at him and stood, placing the tiles. "We jive on bingo!" Kate declared, giggling and languidly rocked her hips back and forth like a winding, lazy snake. It reminded him of a belly dancer. Her suit pants were loose in some areas, but form-fitting where it mattered, and Bobby tore his eyes away before Mrs. Anderson or Megan caught him leering.

When Kate sat down, she touched him again, pressing the palm of her hand into the side of his thigh and rubbing gently. "Forgive me, deary," she said. "I get carried away sometimes." Kate brought her glass to her lips and drank deeply. "Are you having a good time?" Her fingers crawled over his pocket, stopping just before reaching his crotch.

"Yeah, I'm glad you chose me as your partner," Bobby said. "I'd be lost without you."

She smiled and the faint lines framing her lips and eyes deepened. Kate lifted her curious hand and tapped him on the tip of the nose with a finger. "You are quite the charmer, aren't you, Bobby?" she asked, voice low and conspiratorial.

He fiddled with his glass, emptying it down his throat. "You're the first person to accuse me of being charming," Bobby answered with a smirk, as Mrs. Anderson and Megan deliberated their next move, loudly. Kate was the only person, aside from his mother, to heap praise and compliments on him. She had said he was thoughtful. Sweet. Bobby had to disagree, considering what he had done to both of the woman's daughters and the tentative plans he had laid out for Brenda.

Kate took his wineglass, brushing the back of his hand and thumb with her fingers. "Are you not guilty of the crime?" she posed, raising an eyebrow.

"I plead the fifth," Bobby answered, feeling loose and far more at ease than earlier. He was beginning to like wine; it didn't kick in too fast or too slow.

Kate let out a cute snort, and her breasts jumped slightly. She had on another overly tight, off-white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. A few buttons were undone near her neck, but she kept her chest under wraps, and all Bobby could see was the slightly careworn skin of her breastbone. She was tucked in, even well after getting off work. "Overruled," Kate responded and laughed.

Mrs. Anderson moved, leaning over the game board and placing a word. Her tattooed fingers were clumsy, and she dropped a tile. "Your honor, I have to object," Bobby said as Kate poured. "Section c, dash h, dash a, dash r, dash m, protects me under the constitution."

Kate giggled. It wasn't quite like her daughter; Kate's was less devious and happier, more innocent sounding. Bobby cringed internally. Here I go again, he thought. "Don't make me swing my gavel and hold you in contempt, dolly," Kate said, wagging a finger at him.

*

The game had proceeded normally from there, aside from Kate dancing four more times, nothing of note happened. Everyone had continued drinking as the smell of roasting onions and meat filled the room, causing his stomach to groan and rumble like thunder.

Then the game ended, and Kate flung her arms into the air and announced that they were victorious. Bobby chuckled as Kate danced, making an exaggerated stirring motion, as if she were a witch mixing a vat of potion or whatever. Clearing his throat, Bobby said, "Do you mind if I use your bathroom?" He had been holding it forever.

"Go right ahead, lovedove," Kate said. "Let's have a quick intermission so everyone can relieve themselves, and I'll check on the roast and see if I can wake Emma."

Bobby hurried down the hall and slipped into the bathroom. "Ahh," he moaned, emptying his bladder into the toilet. Stream finally ending, Bobby flushed and washed his hands, drying them on his pants before opening the door.

The dining room was empty, but he heard voices coming from another area. Megan and Mrs. Anderson were talking. Following the sound, he found them slumped on a couch in the living room, Megan puffing on a vape with one leg tucked under her butt. He plopped down next to her, and she handed him the long, rectangular puffer. Bobby took a drag; it was nicotine.

She swiveled at the waist, facing him. "Did you get lost, dummy?" Megan asked.

He blew the 'smoke' in her face, and she snickered, reaching for the vape. Bobby held it out of her reach, raising his arm above his head. "You should be nicer to me in front of Mrs. Anderson," Bobby said.

Her eyes sparkled, and she climbed into his lap, straddling him. Megan kissed him roughly. "Make me," she said and extended her arm, grabbing for the vape and pressing her tits into his face. "Give it to me, Bobby."

"No," he said, voice muffled by her breasts and brought his arm down, dodging her groping hand.

Megan sunk back onto his lap, a fire in her glossy eyes, and she breathed on his lips from an inch away. "Give it to me, Bobby, or I'll take it from you," she promised.

Bobby smirked. "How are you going to do that?"

Her eyebrows lifted high. "Don't play chicken with me, dummy," Megan said.

He didn't know what she meant, but her intentions quickly became clear as she fumbled with his zipper. Bobby could see Mrs. Anderson in his periphery, thumb and forefinger pressed into the bridge of her nose and shaking her head. Megan got his pants fully open, and she paused, her fingers intruding under the waistband of his briefs. "Bok, bok," Bobby teased, he did not believe for one second that she would pull his dick out.

"Oh, my, god," Mrs. Anderson cut in, her mouth hanging open. "Megan, let go of him."

She ignored the woman, who was staring at Megan's hands. "Last chance, Bobby," Megan said, licking her lips and breath coming fast. "Give it to me."

The alcohol was an immense boon to his confidence, and Bobby had never felt so free and uncaring. He leaned forward, grazing her far ear with his lips. "Do it, suck my dick in front of her," he whispered, quietly as two hares brushing against one another.

She chewed her bottom lip as Bobby fell back into the cushion and held his breath, regretting his decision immediately. The last time he had made a boast in front of her, Megan had mocked him for it, but his odds of surviving this one had to be higher. A handful of seconds passed, and Megan relented, slipping her fingers free of his underwear with an elastic snap.

Bobby took a long puff, glanced at Mrs. Anderson, whose nostrils seemed flared in anger. The lights were dim, and he couldn't tell. Megan swung her leg off him and leaned into his shoulder, resting her head on him. He gave her the vape and fixed his pants. She had a drag and snickered. "What's so funny?" he asked, plucking the puffer from her fingers.

She rested her arm on his leg. "I thought of a nickname for you," Megan said.

Bobby had a puff, sighed out the 'smoke'. "Another one?" he asked and winced. "Keep that shit to yourself."

Megan giggled and squirmed, ending up with her head in his lap, looking at him. Her knees were bent, completely filling the space between Bobby and Mrs. Anderson in a laying crouch. "You'll like it, I promise," she said, pouting her lips.

He snorted. "I'm sure I won't."

Mrs. Anderson coughed and reached an open palm out to Bobby. "May I have my vape back, now?" she asked.

Bobby turned his head, gaping at her. He had figured it belonged to Megan. Bobby stared at her hand, his gaze traveled to the colorful tattoos starting at her wrist and winding up her arm, across her shoulder and disappearing into her shirt. When he reached her eyes, Bobby said, "But... I used it."

"I'll disinfect it," Mrs. Anderson said, opening and closing her hand.

Megan burst into a fit of laughter, shuddering and shifting in his lap, her cheek grinding his soft dick. Snatching the vape from him, Megan took a drag before Bobby had a chance to hand it over. She gave it back, and Bobby placed it in Mrs. Anderson's waiting palm. "Thanks for sharing," Bobby said and smiled weakly. "I never took you for a smoker, a yakuza member maybe, or a cage fighter..."

He was about to say more, but Megan's laughter stopped him in his tracks. Mrs. Anderson wasn't fazed by his rambling or Megan's outburst, and she brought the nib to her mouth. Her tongue poked out, meeting the black tip before disappearing behind her lips. It was the sexiest vape pull he had ever seen, and she hadn't wiped it off; his fucking teacher. His heart skipped a beat.

Mrs. Anderson exhaled through her nose. "What else do you take me for, I wonder," she said and took another puff.

"A pitbull, a dragon, a beartrap," he said, and Mrs. Anderson chuckled.

Mrs. Anderson passed the vape back to him. "I'm not that bad," she said. "I let you drink and smoke and whatever that was." She gestured at Megan.

"That's true," Bobby muttered, used the vape. He wondered if his gift had done anything at all. "Do you remember like the fifth day of school, when you got in my face about being late?"

"I do," Mrs. Anderson replied and crossed her arms. "Are you trying to tell me that was a real story?"

Bobby shrugged. "No, I wanted say that I wasn't lying about the other thing, the... spit," he said and rubbed his neck. "I feel like you started hating me after that, for mentioning it, for lying about it. It was fucking gross, no offense, but some even got in my eye." He chuckled nervously. "Your breath was minty, though." Bobby left out how that day had traumatized him, the flying spit was secondary to the rage and disgust on her face.

"Oh," Mrs. Anderson said.

*

Bobby gulped his wine as Mrs. Anderson chose their tiles. Brain sharing was the theme of the day it would seem, and no one protested when Kate suggested they play that way. Bobby's teammate wanted to share, Kate's teammate didn't care, and Kate played all the bingos. He preferred not having to go solo.

After fussing with their rack, Mrs. Anderson leaned back in her chair, drawing 'smoke' into her lungs. "What words do you see?" she asked, not bothering to keep her voice down.

He squinted at the tiles: 'clienta'. Mrs. Anderson had made her choice, clearly, but her tone had a distinct teacher quality to it. Bobby wasn't sure if the whole thing was an actual word and having seen some of the things Kate played, his confidence in his knowledge of his own language had taken a nosedive. "Client, ten, cent, tac, at," he railed off. "Clienta?"

Mrs. Anderson drank, handed him the vape. "Define it," she said and took a whiff of her wine.

The damn thing could mean anything. He knew it wasn't the same as clientele but other than that, he had no clue. Cupping a hand over his mouth and leaning closer to her, Bobby said, "We're fucked."

Her eyes flicked to his without moving her head. They were a cold shade of blue, and Bobby's gaze fell to her plump, bottom lip. "That goes without saying," Mrs. Anderson agreed as Megan and Kate had a laugh between themselves. "Nevertheless, I want you to think about it. Is it a word?"

Wincing, Bobby gave her some space since she had continued her non whisper. He didn't want to play the student outside of her classroom; he got enough of that during the day. Sipping some wine, he ignored her and waited for Kate and Megan to play their word.

It was a bingo, and Megan joined her mother in dancing, clashing their generous hips together happily. Kate had been right, Megan did seem to be enjoying herself. When they sat down and tallied the score, Mrs. Anderson said, "What have you come up with?"

"Please, can you not quiz me here?" he asked. "Can we just play the game? Or switch to our own racks?"

She scowled but it disappeared a moment later. "Sure, I don't believe 'clienta' is valid," Mrs. Anderson said and switched around the tiles before placing the word 'alien'.

Bobby chuckled. "Damn, I didn't even know that was in there," he said, taking a puff.

Mrs. Anderson handed him the bag before jotting down their points. "As you get used to playing, you see more and more, even if you don't know as much as Kate over there," she said.

Sticking his hand in the bag, Bobby counted out five tiles and placed them on the stand. "How often do you get together and have Scrubble nights?" he asked.

Mrs. Anderson tipped the last of the 97' in her wineglass. "Rarely, nowadays," she said. "I spend a large portion of my free time grading papers and creating lesson plans."

And getting tattoos, he thought. "What about during summer break?"

Megan stood and hurried out of the room, rocking her hips side to side as she strode away. "If I'm not teaching summer school, then I'm pit fighting or wresting alligators or practicing my threats in the mirror," she said, a crooked grin exposing her gold tooth.

Bobby laughed. "What about your tattoos?" he asked. "They're pretty." He hadn't meant to say it aloud, and he coughed.

Mrs. Anderson chuckled, took a swig. "Thank you, my brother is an artist and designed most of them," she said as Megan returned with another bottle, placing it in front of Mrs. Anderson. "I explain what I want and he sketches it out for my tattoo gal."

He nodded and touched his Adam's apple, where she had a large, blue and yellow butterfly. "Was the butterfly the most painful?" Bobby asked. Megan smirked at him as she sat down.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Anderson said, "The worst for me are my feet and toes."

"You have them on your toes?" he asked, taken aback. "What would fit on a toe? A jellybean?"

Mrs. Anderson pursed her lips and grabbed the vape from him. "I don't have any jellybean tattoos," she said through narrowed eyes and got closer to their letters.

From across the table, Kate guzzled her wine and removed the hairpin keeping her swirling bun in place. She closed her eyes, shaking her head and combing her hair out with her fingers. "Do you have any of Tooler Swaft or Pheobe?" he asked, watching the small muscle in her forearm shift and bunch as she rearranged letters.

"Why are you so interested all of a sudden?" she questioned, tone harsh and accusatory.

He drained his glass and crossed his legs, leaning back. "Sorry, I was just curious," Bobby said.

Mrs. Anderson raised one eyebrow at him. "So, you aren't looking for an excuse to see my feet?" Her voice hadn't changed but the look on her face was mirthful.

Maybe she always sounds like that, he thought.

"Don't tease him, Trish, I'm sure he gets enough of that from Megan," Kate butted in. "Now play something."

*

After finishing the game and the bottles they had brought into the dining room, the group followed Kate into the kitchen to check on the roast. It smelled divine, and Bobby salivated at the sight of the crusty, golden meat. Juices dripped onto the bed of potatoes and hissed when they contacted the bottom of the pan.

There were two bottles remaining, and Megan jabbed a cork in one of them, twisting until the spiraling metal disappeared. "Do you want to spend the night?" Megan asked, pulling the cork free with a thunk.

Bobby glanced at Kate. "I don't mind, sugarplum, as long as you sleep on the pullout," Kate said.

"I'll ask my mom," Bobby said, reaching into his pocket for his phone. "She might not let me.'

Kate patted her thighs, looking around. "Oh, there it is," she said, walking over to the sink, where her phone sat. "What's her number, dear? I'll call and talk to her."

Bobby told her, and Megan grabbed him by the elbow. "Let's sit outside," Megan said and hauled him out the back door. "My mom is going talk your mom's ear off until she agrees."

A big awning hung above plush, outdoor furniture in Megan's backyard. The night air was cool and refreshing against his warm ears and cheeks. Bobby inhaled, and he could smell the alcohol on his own breath. Megan directed him to the edge of the couch, where a longer portion jutted out further than the rest for laying down. He sat, kicking his feet up.

"What am I going to with you, virgin?" Megan said, speech slightly slurred. "Take your shoes off, I don't want them digging into me."

He obliged, sitting up and tossing them into the grass. She gave him the bottle and sat next to him, flopping one leg between his and wiggled her bare toes. Bobby took a swig and regretted not going to the bathroom before getting situated. "Why do you keep calling me that?" Bobby asked.

Megan grabbed his wrist, lifting it over her head, and Bobby put the arm around her. "I like it," she replied. "Unless you want me to switch to your other nickname, the new one." She giggled and reached across him, taking the bottle.

He sighed. "It has to be better than 'virgin'," Bobby said. "What is it?"

She grinned wickedly. "Orca," Megan said.

Bobby furrowed his brow as she brought the bottle to her lips. "Huh?" he muttered in confusion. "Why that?"

She gulped wine. Once. Twice. "Because, dummy," Megan said and hiccupped. "Orcas are known for turning sharks upside down and having their way with them."

Bobby grimaced, his nose wrinkling. "Fuck no," he groaned.

Megan cackled. The sound beamed directly into his eardrum, and Bobby flinched away. He got saved by another of her hiccups, and she calmed herself shortly after. "You can call me whatever you like," she offered, voice still dripping with laughter.

He had never heard of a worse, more embarrassing nickname than Orca. It was terrible and had no ring to it, leaving aside the horrifying reason she had picked it. "I could never come up with anything that bad," he said.

"I'm sorry for offending you, Orca," Megan said.

The door opened, letting out Kate's voice and a strip of light for a moment. A gentle, rhythmic slapping sounded as Mrs. Anderson joined them, sitting next to Megan on the sofa and crossing her legs. Her feet were bare and colorful. "Trade?" Mrs. Anderson asked, holding the vape out to Bobby.

Slipping the bottle free of Megan's grasp, he swapped it for the puffer. "Thanks," Bobby said, craving it.

Mrs. Anderson gave him a soft smile. "I heard her laughing and thought I'd come save you," she said and drank deeply.

Saved by the devil, he thought and felt a pang of guilt. She wasn't so bad. "Have you ever considered a student aide?" Bobby asked, puffing vigorously. "I've seen them grading papers before; it could make your life a bit easier."

Mrs. Anderson burped and blew out a breath. "Are you offering to become my aide?"

Megan laughed, and Bobby said, "No, I was..."

"Just curious?" Mrs. Anderson cut him off and recrossed her legs, displaying the bottom of her foot. She rolled her ankle in a slow motion, her foot tracing lazy circles in the air. Splayed her toes. Wriggled them.

Bobby took in a breath. He had never found feet particularly appealing but fuck if that didn't turn him on. Tearing his gaze away, Bobby met her eye, and Mrs. Anderson's brow lifted a fraction. "Yes," he said. "I mean, if you're offering, I'll do it." He was unsure what he meant by 'it', but he knew he wanted some.

She massaged her butterfly, pinched the skin where its wings met. "I'll consider it," Mrs. Anderson said, flexing her toes again. It felt like they were waving at him, teasing. "Which elective can you live without?"

"French," he replied and drew in a lung full of nicotine. "First period."

Mrs. Anderson cradled the bottle and took a sip, the liquid sloshed, splashing against the glass walls. "Are you willing to work hard and come in early if I need you?" she asked.

"You can trust me to be there and do that," he said absentmindedly, watching the soft underside of her foot move left and right.

"Ugh, you're such a suck up," Megan said and sniped the vape.

Mrs. Anderson handed Bobby the bottle. "We'll see," she said. "Are you willing to tell me if students are misbehaving or cheating?"

He had never considered himself a snitch, but he didn't feel any loyalty to anyone but Alessio. If Alessio cheated, Bobby would keep his mouth shut about it; help even. "Yeah, fuck the misbehavers," Bobby said, taking in a mouthful of wine.

"Indeed," Mrs. Anderson said and the look Megan had given him before entering her sister's bedroom flashed through his mind.

*

Bobby's bladder demanded action, and he swung his legs onto the ground, away from Megan. Pushing off the sofa, he yawned, stretching his arms high. "Be right back," he said to no one in particular and padded inside.

Kate was still on the phone, but her voice was more distant than before. On his way to the toilet, he found her sitting in the dining room, holding her phone up to her ear and smiling. She had unbuttoned her shirt to just under her chest, revealing a tight, cushy bra that had to be a size too small.

The white cups dug into Kate's skin, smushing her boobs together and out the top like plump muffins. She laughed at something, and her cleavage sloshed, jiggling as she delighted in his mother's words. "Megan was the exact same for a few years, my ex-husband spoiled her rotten," Kate said and held a finger to her lips, looking at Bobby.

"Bathroom," he mouthed and pointed before continuing in that direction.

She nodded, getting to her feet and giving him a better eyeful as she leaned forward. Kate had another dark mole on her right breast; it danced and jittered like a fishing lure as she moved. "Nonsense, don't apologize, Sharon," she said, speaking into the phone. "Tell me."

Bobby's breath quickened as Kate followed, saying nothing to him. Gulping, he pushed the door open and flicked the light switch on.

Kate entered too, leaving the door ajar behind her. She tapped her phone, and his mom's voice came through the speaker in the middle of a sentence. "... having boys is the laundry," his mother vented. Bobby knew the tone well.

Kate put her phone down next to the sink and eyed him through the mirror. Brought a finger to her lips again. Bobby just breathed, his mouth going dry. "Laundry?" Kate asked and tittered, turning to face Bobby. "Why's that, dear?"

His mom heaved a long sigh as Kate rubbed his chest. "You know, their... mess," mom said, and she sipped a drink. "In his socks, on his shirts, underwear too. It's disgusting." His mother retched. "I despise semen."

Kate smirked and sank to her knees. As Bobby went rigid, horrified by mom's words, Kate ran both of her hands through her hair, gathering it all and letting it fall down her back. "Ask him to do it in the shower," Kate said, giving him a disappointed look. "Or the toilet."

His mother laughed. "I could never shame him like that," she said and was right.

Bobby had never been so embarrassed, alcohol notwithstanding, and he glared at Megan's mother for putting him in the situation. Kate shrugged and gave him a little shake of the head, as if to say it wasn't her fault. She demonstrated how he could solve the problem by covering her own ears. He narrowed his eyes at her; the harm had already been done.

Kate flapped a hand at him before carefully undoing his button. "I'd make him do his own laundry if I were you," Kate said and moved on to his zipper, slowly tugging with her thumb and forefinger.

Mom sighed. "I can't trust him to get all those stains out," she said.

Bobby grimaced, jerking his head and looking away. As he massaged his eyebrows in distress, Kate pulled his pants down to his ankles. Fondled him through the underwear. Her hand was delicate, and she applied almost no pressure, but his half chub turned into a raging hardon under her touch. "Bobby is a clever boy, Sharon, I'm sure he can figure out stain removal," Kate said, tugging on his briefs, stretching the waistband up and over his stiffness.

"Maybe you're right," mom said.

Kate caressed his thighs, slid her hands around and felt his ass. Gave both cheeks a squeeze. Bobby felt something graze his tip, and he broke off rubbing his eyes in favor of watching Kate. Her lash's fluttered, and she smiled sweetly. "Give it a try, dear," Kate said. "What are your plans for the weekend?" Kate opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue. It was long as fuck and wide.

Shit, Bobby thought, as his shaft gradually disappeared, gliding along Kate's tongue. Her pink muscle cradled him, turning up on both sides, and his cock sunk into it like a memory foam mouth. "Bobby and I are going to clean out the basement," mom said, and Bobby's glans met an impossibly soft wall of resistance in the back of Kate's throat. "It's going to be his new room."

Kate continued to push forward slowly, her tongue unmoving, and just as Bobby thought there was nowhere else for his cock to go, it pierced whatever throat hymen she could make. He shuddered violently and bit his thumb, biting back a moan.

Soundlessly, Kate released his manhood. "Do you need any help?" Kate asked and took him into her mouth once more. She didn't close her lips around him, just opened wide and slid his length along her slick tongue.

"Thanks, but no," mom said, and Kate teased him with her throat shutter. Not granting him entry. "I have to look through it all and make sure I don't throw anything away that I'll regret."

Megan's mom bobbed deliberately, her tongue like a magnet, clinging to the underside of his cock. His tip leaked, and he splayed his fingers involuntarily. She released him without a peep or a squelch and gulped, wiping her chin where a thread of saliva dangled. "What about after?" Kate asked and gently stroked him with her hand. "I have an SUV we can load up."

Bobby's mother yawned loudly. "That would be nice," mom said, and Kate slid him into her mouth, his glans knocking at her throat knot, but it refused to open for him. Both of her hands rubbed his backside, one of them wet and cold but the glistening warmth about his shaft mattered more. "I'd hate to impose on the day I meet you, Kate; we should get together beforehand. Maybe go out for drinks."

Bobby was close, breathing rapidly and scrotum taut as a bowstring, but Kate unslung him before he could loose. "I would love that, dear, I'll give you a call tomorrow, and we can set a date," Kate said, leaving his prick untouched and throbbing. "Bye, bye."

"Have a good night," mom said and hung up.

"Forgive me, turtledove," Kate said, rubbing his hamstring tenderly and swallowed him. Mouth hot and dripping, she forced him past her previously forbidden tightness and to the brink of ecstasy. Taking his cock out of her mouth, she said, "Finish on my tongue, sweetness." She took him in both hands and stroked hard, displaying the large target and aiming him.

Her meaty tits bouncing, Bobby climaxed, letting out a hissing breath as he splashed her tongue with a negligible amount of cum. "Fuck," he groaned, body stuttering and ears thrumming.

"Naughty boy," Kate said when the last spasm was spent. She swallowed and showed him that it was all gone. "Unlike your mother, sweety, I love semen. Do I need to send a certain someone off to boarding school so I can have a full sampling?"

He winced at the mention of his mother's experience with his cum. God, he thought, I'm so fucking dumb; of course, she knew what that was. I'll never be able to look her straight in the face again, Bobby thought.