The Substitute

Eighteen

This fall day had been warm enough to walk home in, so instead of taking the bus, or going to the art room, I started to walk home. Crunching the leafs beneath my boots with every step, it was relaxing.

When I was ten minutes away from home, a car pulls up to me, the driver keeps a straight face at me. I walk up to the car widow,

"I was expecting you in the art room." Mr. Smith said, turning his music down a bit. I shrugged,

"It was a good day to walk home."

He waited for me, finally I got into the passenger seat. Sighing quietly, but I knew I loved the attention, especially from him.

He smiled at me then drove in the other direction from home, I didn't bother to question him.

"So, Samantha. How was the other night? In your honest opinion." he asked, not taking his eyes off the road. Tingles went up my spine,

I thought about him holding my arms behind my back, mumbling in my ear that it was going to be okay. how he covered my mouth when I started to get loud, the throbs and the thrusts, how I scratched down his back and yanked his hair when my hands were free, the music playing in the background. How gentle he was. How my bed now has a slight squeak in it.

"It was amazing, but it was hard. With my mom downstairs and all. Especially with it being my first time.." I watched him as I spoke, his face turning a light shade of pink. I set my hand on his thigh just like he had that night.

"I really did love it, Adam."

Taking his eyes off the road, he smiled at me, "I really loved it too, Samantha." He slowly set his hand on top of mine, my heart beat started to thump out of control.

~

I zoned out for the rest of the car ride, the music playing, him rubbing my hand that still remained on his warm thigh, until the car came to a complete stop.

When I climbed out of the car, I was greeted by apartment complexes, standing in front of apartment number 42 it was so clean; flowers well taken care of in the garden, green grass freshly cut, clean sidewalk.

Mr. Smith walked me up to the porch, jingling his keys as they turned in the lock, the door flew open and I walked in behind him. His house was totally him.

White satin curtains in every room, light shag carpet, a light blue sofa in the living room, dark wood flooring and marble countertops with a pale yellow table cloth and seat covers that matched the pale yellow wall in the kitchen,

He poured me something to drink.

When he turned, he handed me the cold oddly- shaped glass. I took a sip and he smiled at me,

"It's homemade wine, I know you're underage, but I'm pretty sure you're parents wouldn't mind. It's just a little wine." He said, before taking a sip of his own glass, I smiled taking another drink, then setting the glass on the counter.

"It's delicious." He smiled at the compliment and set his glass down too, then he guided me upstairs.

We stood in his studio, where I examined his many unfinished projects, most of them just plans for a project on a sheet of paper.

I sat at his desk where he had an uncompleted sketch, all his supplies scattered about.

"I wanted to finish it, that's why you're over here." He said plainly, I smiled over at him,

He wanted me to sit near the window so I did, not smiling. He said he wanted a serious one, so I respected that.

When he finished, he wouldn't let me see the sketch.

I really wanted to see it.

"Lemme see!" I jumped on him playfully, he held me up smiling, shaking his head.

"No baby no," these words made me feel like fainting, this man was the most beautiful creature I'd ever came in contact with.

"Yessss Adam," I nibbled his neck, causing him to moan out quietly, it echoed in the small room. He ran his hand up my shirt and began to tickle me, I squirmed and giggled.

I hated to be tickled, but when he did it, I didn't want him to stop.

"Never," he whispered into my ear slyly, stepping out of the studio and closing the door behind us. Jerk,

I looked at him, with a passionate look, but with a touch of upset. He kissed me hard, his moist, soft lips my drug. I kissed back, he slowly walked backwards, pushing open a door to a bigger room, closing it after we were in the room.

When the kiss had ended, I found to be in his room, when Mr. Smith set me down, I sat on his bed, upset that he had ended the kiss.

He looked at me with a straight face, I looked back at him and couldn't help but to smile. His shirt half tucked, half untucked, a misplaced button, his hair shaggy and out of place. It was the cutest thing,

"It's not funny," he said in a serious tone, but his face smiled, he took off his shirt as I got comfortable.

That's when I noticed his flat, defined stomach, and his tattoos. Names and words scattered across his upper torso, trees and plants, quotes. Colors. I wasn't expecting him to have so many.

Next he threw off his pants, allowing me to admirer the source behind his boxers a bit, my heart ached.

He threw on some sweats and right as soon as he grabbed a shirt, I stopped him.

"Please.. Leave it off." I held up my hand at him, he obliged almost immediately.