Tenure

7. James

7

James

I swirl the amber bourbon around in my glass and it spills up and over the sides, running down my fingers.

I’m drunk.

Because I’m still in high school.

Because I’m still in high school.

Because I’m still in high school.

I got pushed in a pool once, when I was young. Before I knew how to swim. Some fat redhead with an ugly brown bathing suit came up behind me while my legs dangled in the water and shoved. I sank to the bottom, water flooding my nose and mouth and throat, and I came up choking and spluttering and gasping for air.

This feels like that.

Tess called twice, but I sent it to voicemail. She said she’d be in town this weekend. But I’m not in the mood for her. I’m not in the mood for anybody today. I canceled my afternoon lecture and came straight home. Keys hadn’t even hit the counter before I was pouring myself a drink.

The first of fucking many.

I wander around my apartment barefoot, the glow of the setting sun reflected in all the high-rise windows.

How old is she?!

I can’t get the taste of her out of my mouth. No matter how much whiskey I swallow, no matter how much my belly burns, all I can think about is the feeling of her jugular pounding against my fingertips, her teeth scraping my tongue, the soft skin of her abdomen flexing against my palm, and the smell of her.

Goddamn.

Because I’m still in high school.

I throw my whiskey glass at the wall, and it smashes to bits, the amber liquid sliding down the boring off-white paint the decorator picked out.

I flop down on the couch, arm hanging off the side, my dick hardening for the hundredth fucking time today. I shift uncomfortably, crotch aching like a teenager, and I snort.

Like a teenager.

Fucking hell. I’m almost forty.

But my cock continues to press uncomfortably against my fly despite the half-bottle of bourbon.

The way her back arched had my dick weeping. She bent backwards so gracefully, like a willow tree I wanted to climb—

Fuck. Quit math and become a poet. Jesus Christ.

I try to shake off the thoughts, but I can’t. My mind is flooded with the feel of her, my cheek still tingling, my body restless and aching.

I will not jerk off to her.

I will not jerk off to her.

I jerk off to her. Twice.