Walk of Shame Read online

  So, let me back up just a bit more. I don’t consider myself a high maintenance girlfriend whatsoever. I’m independent as hell; I don’t require male validation to see my worth, and I’m comfortable in my own skin. But, for whatever reason, Stuart’s assertiveness and ‘take charge’ personality tends to overshadow those traits in me and render me a ‘girly girl’ or so Eva contends. I personally don’t see it.

  I make a mental note to phone Stuart tomorrow. It’s strange for him to be coming on a Sunday and staying through Tuesday. It actually was my turn to make the trip to Springfield, but I hadn’t planned on doing that until next weekend. I planned it that way because I would be on my period then.

  Does that sound fucked up?

  Yeah, it does to me as well.

  Let’s get to the nitty-gritty here. Stuart is the one and only man I’ve ever been sexual with. He and I had gone out for nearly five months before I allowed him to deflower me. And yes, I know that sounds goofy, but any way you word it sounds just as weird, trust me.

  It’s not that Stuart hadn’t been trying before that, believe me, but I kept waiting for that feeling of love to overwhelm me to the point that I simply couldn’t resist his advances any longer.

  Sound corny?

  I think so too. At any rate, that overwhelming rush of love that manifests itself into pure, unadulterated lust never did show up.

  Finally, my own curiosity to see what all the fuss was about won out. I capitulated to his ‘Roman’ hands and ‘Russian’ fingers as we used to call it back at St. Albert’s private school. And although I realize that the first time isn’t usually pleasant, by the sixth or seventh time, and at twenty years of age by that time, I still didn’t get what all the fuss was about.

  I made the fatal mistake of confiding this to Eva.

  Bad move.

  Bad, bad move.

  She promptly told me to ‘drop the dipshit,’ her words, not mine, and then surprised me with some battery-operated doodads that she assured me I needed to use so that I could locate my erogenous zones and direct ‘dipshit’ there if I had no plans to drop him any time soon.

  After that, I played it off that I had followed her instructions because I knew how relentless she could be and I didn’t want to hear it. But, the truth is, I’ve never opened the packages in that bag she handed over from The Story of O Sextique. Instead, I learned to fake orgasms, complete with shrill moans that reach a high pitch that even Renata Tebaldi would envy.

  Hey, don’t judge. No harm, no foul. Actually, it kills two birds with one stone. It keeps Eva off my back; and Stu is pleased that he is such a magnificent lover. So everyone is happy, right?

  I shower and then crawl into my bed where exhaustion finally takes the wheel and thoughts of Stuart and elusive orgasms melt away. My last waking thought is neither of those. I think of the crude boy with the sex hair and the note on the twenty-dollar bill that Weston left for me under his plate. I smile as sleep overtakes me.

  Chapter 4

  The quiet in the room was deafening. Weston finished the last question on the sample test that Penny had given him. Thank fuck he felt that he had passed.

  He handed it over to her, and he didn’t miss the arching of her brow. Yeah, he had finished it prior to the timer going off. Imagine that?

  “Finished already?”

  “You seem surprised,” he replied grinning. “I studied all damn weekend.”

  “Oh, really? I didn’t hear anything on the local news about that.”

  “Say again?” he asked. “About what?”

  “About hell freezing over,” she replied, not looking up from where she was starting to grade his test.

  “Smart ass,” he mumbled, sprawling out in his seat, clasping his hands behind his head. He watched her and it was obvious by the lack of red checkmarks she generally scribbled over incorrect answers that he had, in fact, aced this fucking test. So, maybe the fact that he had stayed in on Saturday and Sunday, with the exception of weight training and hockey practice, had served a useful purpose after all.

  Finally, Penny raised her head, pushing her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose and looked at him with those magnified brown eyes. “Well, well. I must say, Matthews, you have proven to me that you certainly have the intelligence to ace this course. So, just as I thought, it comes down to the self discipline element that is lacking. What do you think would’ve happened had I agreed to your request to pick another book?”

  He shrugged. Okay, what was she doing now? Trying to psycho analyze him for Chrissake? “I don’t know. Why does it matter?”

  “Because,” she replied, grabbing a tissue from the box on her desk and blowing her nose loudly, “I want you to understand the importance of being able to succeed at an assignment regardless of its appeal to you. I realize the book and the subsequent essay I gave you to read by the same author typically would not appeal to a rich, super jock such as yourself. But you only missed one question on the sample test, and I read through your essay summary while you were taking the test, and you did a fairly good job with it. You’ll get bonus points with Professor Lindquist, so make sure you turn it in with your test tomorrow.”

  Weston leaned forward, placing his elbow on her desk. “Hold up a second, Penny. Was that supposed to be a compliment? What the fuck do you have against jocks?”

  She stopped shuffling the papers and released a sigh. “I didn’t mean it to come across like that,” she replied, “don’t get so defensive.”

  “Oh yeah. I see. Like there are so many other fucking ways I could take it, right? What is it about homely…” And he stopped himself before he finished that thought. But he knew that Penny got where he was going with it.

  “About homely girls that don’t swoon over college jocks? Is that what you were about to ask, Weston?”

  Now he felt like a total dick. Why did he even let her push his buttons like that? “No, that’s not it,” he replied, turning away, “I don’t like to stereotype people that way.”

  “Yeah, right,” she scoffed, snapping open her briefcase. She pulled out his new study guide for the upcoming chapter, along with the book she had selected from Lindquist’s list.

  Another chick book.

  Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen.

  Fuck me.

  He kept his mouth shut because protesting about her book choice wouldn’t do him a damn bit of good. Maybe she was teaching him something; or maybe he just didn’t feel like giving her the satisfaction of thinking that she was punishing him with that assignment. He accepted the book and guide that she handed over.

  “So, good luck on your test tomorrow, Matthews. I will see you Friday at three to give you a sample test on the first ten chapters of Pride and Prejudice.”

  “Whoa, hold up, Penny. It’s only four fifteen. We still have another hour and fifteen minutes before our session is over. I mean, my old man pays for five hours a week of your time. Are you shortchanging him?” Weston felt like being a shit because of last Friday, and because he knew that he could.

  For the first time Penny appeared to be flustered. Go figure. She continued putting her files away. “Tell him to dock me then, or I can squeeze another hour and fifteen minutes in on Wednesday if you want to schedule a time in late afternoon.”

  Weston smiled as he stuffed the book into his backpack. “Nah, just giving you shit because, well, you’re the one that’s a stickler for using up the clock.”

  “Agreed,” she replied brusquely, “But…well, my boyfriend is picking me up this afternoon. My car had to go in for service and he dropped me off and is picking me up here. I have to pick up my car before four-thirty when the garage closes.”

  “Seriously, Penny. No explanation required,” he replied quickly, though he was genuinely surprised that she had a boyfriend. He didn’t hide it well.

  “You seem surprised, Matthews.”

  And now he felt the egg on his face. “No, not at all,” he lied. “I told you I was just giving you shit, that’s al
l.”

  “That’s not what I meant. But I think you already knew that. See you Friday then.”

  She was out the door before he had a chance to respond, which was good because actually she called him out on it just fine. There wasn’t anything he could have said to cover that up.

  As he stood up to leave, he noticed that she’d left her daily planner on the chair next to her desk. He grabbed it and quickly made his way out into the hall. He could see her walking towards the stairwell and truthfully, he could have called out her name in order to get her attention because they weren’t all that far apart. But he didn’t.

  Weston was curious. No matter how much of a shallow prick he was, or how much he disliked his tutor, something inside pushed him to see for himself just what type of boyfriend someone like Penny had snagged for herself. He chuckled to himself wondering if the guy was even of the two-legged variety.

  He dropped back a bit until she rounded the bend in the stairway, and then he picked up speed. Once he reached the ground level of the building, he peered down the hallway and saw her walking out the north entrance towards the student parking lot.

  He followed behind and once he reached the pavement, he spotted a late model black Jeep Grand Cherokee pulling up to the curb where Penny was waiting.

  This was no good; he couldn’t get a look at the driver from this vantage point.

  He quickly sprinted across the grassy area so that he was now on the driver’s side of the vehicle. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Yo, Penny!” he shouted just as she was sliding into the passenger side of the car. The driver lowered his window as Weston stepped closer to the Jeep. “Penny left her day planner in our study room,” he explained, approaching him. He tried to mask his surprise when he saw the guy and realized the dude was not what he expected.

  At all.

  Penny was leaning over looking around him and he could tell that she wasn’t comfortable with Weston being so close to her alleged boyfriend. Ten bucks said he was the mechanic from the garage giving her a courtesy lift back to pick up her car.

  That thought quickly faded as he gazed down at him now that he was standing just inches away. Weston held out the day planner, which the guy in the Jeep took with a nod. He wasn’t dressed like any mechanic Weston had ever seen. He had a lean build, blondish hair and was dressed more like a businessman than a mechanic or even a student. He looked to be mid-twenties, and his attire, while conservative, was not cheap. He had money. No one knew that better than Weston Matthews.

  He gave Weston a smile after he handed Penny her planner and turned back. “Thanks…?”

  “Oh, I’m Weston. Penny’s my assigned tutor for Early American Lit. She’s saving my ass.”

  “I see, Weston. Well I’m happy to hear that. I’m Stuart. The boyfriend.” He extended his right arm out the window, and Weston shook it, still studying Stuart.

  “Do you attend Hardwick?” Weston asked, as if it were any of his business, but what the hell, he was a curious fuck.

  “Uh no, no I don’t,” he replied. “Well, good luck with Early American Lit. I’m sure your tutor will get you through it. It was nice meeting you.”

  Weston nodded and stepped back away from the Jeep and watched as Stuart pulled out into the circular driveway and headed toward the exit.

  Kind of a pretentious fuck.

  He shook it off and headed back to the other side of the lot, to where his own car was parked. He couldn’t digest the whole Stuart and Penny thing. Talk about a mismatch. He never would have pictured those two together, but hell, what did he know about the intricacies of romance? Weston hadn’t done serious, and had no plans to in the foreseeable future. But was Penny’s relationship even serious? He shrugged it off. More power to them, he sure as hell wasn’t game.

  Speaking of game, he spotted Leanne Knox getting into her white Beamer that was parked next to his black one.

  Different models. He didn’t drive chick cars.

  She spotted him immediately and sprawled across the roof of her car, giving him her signature sexy smile. She ran a hand through her long brown hair. “Hey Weston, glad I caught you before you left. A few of us are going to a Tuesday fratsor at Delta Gamma this evening around eight. Care to join us? Your bros are invited too.”

  “Fratsor?” he asked, arching his brows in confusion.

  She giggled like a kid with a secret. “We aren’t calling them mixers anymore. We call them fratsors because, well it’s only for fraternity and sorority members, get it?”

  He laughed and pressed the key fob to unlock the driver side door of his car. “Cute,” he replied, giving her an eye roll. “I’m betting a sorority sister came up with that one.”

  “Yours truly,” she said, grinning. “So, you coming?”

  “Of course, doll. I’ll see you there.”

  She beamed her approval. Weston had made her day and, most likely, her night as well. He had fucked Leanne a couple of times and, so far, she hadn’t developed any of the clinginess that other chicks had in the past. Leanne liked to fuck. She was every guy’s wet dream in that respect.

  Except for Marcus. He had fucked her last year and complained that she was a “snapper,” and that he had no intention of tapping that again. We had given him shit about it, but he swore her pussy nearly snapped his dick off at the root.

  Weston had no such issue. He enjoyed a pussy that clenched his cock. And Leanne’s PC muscle was phenomenal. Maybe Marcus was simply a needle dick.

  Chapter 5

  “So, that’s your senior thesis project, Peyton? A dumb jock?” Stuart is chuckling as we drive off, and I notice that he glances in the rearview mirror to assess Weston one last time.

  “He’s not my project. He’s just one aspect of my project. And, for the record, he’s not dumb.” My reply comes out a bit snippy. Stuart glances over at me, and places his hand on my long skirt covered thigh.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. But if I hadn’t seen for myself your morning ritual of changing your appearance, I never would’ve guessed the woman I just picked up on Hardwick’s campus was the same vixen who howled her pleasure in bed last night.” He throws me a wink for good measure.

  “Stuart,” I say, softly chastising him, “I warned you, didn’t I?”

  “That you did,” he replies. “Colored contact lenses, fake eye-magnifying glasses, wig, fake front teeth, a bra that flattens your chest, and padding around the waist---what did I miss?”

  I laugh good-naturedly, no longer upset by his comments. “The nasal spray I use to make my voice sound nasally.”

  “Ah yes,” he replies. “It seems to have worn off.”

  “That’s because I had to blow my nose earlier. That stuff makes me feel like sneezing.” I remove the fake teeth that snap over my own. “And this thing is a royal pain in the ass.”

  “So, you do this every day?”

  “No. Only on Tuesday and Friday when I have my classes at Hardwick and do my tutoring, thank God.”

  “Well, what does Eva think about this?” he asks, pulling into the parking lot of the auto shop that has my car. “Does she give you a lot of grief?”

  “Actually,” I reply, “I’ve managed to keep it from her. She’s gone earlier than I am on those mornings, and she works the early shift on Fridays at Big Daddy’s. Tuesdays are the only evenings I have to worry, but I have a contingency plan for that one. She won’t be home early today.” And I know this because, until she knows Stuart is on his way back to Springfield, she’ll avoid our apartment as best as she can.

  He quirks a brow in surprise. I don’t elaborate because he doesn’t care much for Eva anyway. He thinks she’s a wild party girl that is destined to turn me into a replica of her, which clearly is ludicrous. I feel bad for not sharing this with Eva and, of course, she’ll be pissed off that I didn’t share should she find out, but I have my reasons. I mean, I love Eva like a sister, and I trust her with my life, but what I don’t trust is her motor mouth when she’s had a few too many. I
can’t risk being outed.

  “At the risk of sounding like a typical shallow male, I am actually grateful that studs like Weston see you as your alter ego and not the real you. I’d hate to have to transfer this late in my Master’s program.”

  “Funny, Stu,” I reply as he parks his car in a spot. “You have nothing to worry about,” I reply. “Hey, you don’t need to wait. Sid promised it would be ready and I know you’re anxious to get back to Springfield. Thanks for sticking around.”

  He leans in towards me, “No problem, honey. I had that appointment to see my contact from D.C. anyway, so it all worked out fine. But, seriously, you need to think about getting a more reliable car.”

  I turn from him so he doesn’t catch my eye roll. “I told you, Stu, it’s not in the budget this year.”

  “What about your dad?” he asks. “He seems to have enough money to help your stepmother bail out her adult kids…”

  “Let’s not go there again, okay? Dad helps me when he can, but he’s got family responsibilities too, you know?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he says with a sigh. “I’ll be back the weekend after next. I don’t want you driving ‘The Beast’ to Springfield until you get new tires. I checked them this morning and they are past bald. It’s not safe, Peyton. I can lend you…”

  “No,” I interrupt, “I will take care of it soon, I promise. Have a safe trip back,” I lean over and give him a quick kiss. “I gotta go, Sid is closing up shop.”

  I get out and just as I’m shutting the passenger door, I hear Stuart call out. “I love you. See you soon.”

  Later at home, I reflect on Stuart’s comments relative to my father. He doesn’t understand that the dynamics of my family are polar opposites of his. My mother died when I was only two of leukemia. My father raised me, and my grandparents helped out as much as they could, until they passed away when I was twelve and thirteen respectively. My father’s parents had died before he had married my mother. Aside from a couple of distant aunts that live somewhere in the Midwest, and Dad’s younger brother, Dan, who lives in Arizona that is the extent of my immediate family.