Page 7 of Anatomy Lessons

It’s her fault. She’s just too goddamn beautiful.

It’s going to be torture to wait to see her again. I wanted to just pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, toss her in my car, drive her back to my house, and fuck her brains out. Make her come so many times she wouldn’t even remember her own name.

But I have to take things slow with Maisy. She’s younger than me, and she’s the definition of inexperienced. Not to mention she was there with her friend, who was looking out for her and definitely would have cockblocked me with some kind of excuse for why they had to leave.

No, I’m going to have to wait.

I’m boiling up inside. My cock is throbbing, and there’s a wet spot on the inside of my thigh from all the pre-cum spilling out of me. My mind is full of filthy fantasies: teaching her about her body, how to pleasure herself, then taking over and ravaging her until she moans my name over and over and over again.

I can’t wait to see her orgasm face. Christ, if she’s as inexperienced as she claims, she might not have even had an orgasm before. I’ll give her her first.

But as I pull onto my block, I realize there’s something else going on inside me. Something deep down in my core beyond the pure uncontrollable attraction causing my entire body to buzz. Something I’m not sure I’ve ever felt with a woman before.

Love.

It’s overwhelming, ferocious, and adjacent to how I feel when I’m absolutely starving, but it’s right there in my core, burning slow and steady like a kiln. I barely even know her, but I already can’t picture a future without her in it.

A smile twists over my face. I can’t remember the last time I felt this elated. But as I pull into my driveway, I see something that causes my stomach to turn to ice.

“No way…”

Parked out front is a faded red station wagon. I recognize it immediately. And even if there was a doubt in my mind that this is the station wagon that should not be here, I see the bumper sticker on the back: Mean. Surly. Nasty. Bitch.

My pulse skyrockets as I step out of the car and walk quickly for the door. But before I can reach it, I hear a voice call out behind me.

“Hey, hubby! Not gonna say hi?”

I stop dead in my tracks. It takes everything I have not to grind my teeth into dust as my jaw clenches down and my hands ball up into fists by my sides. Slowly I turn, and there she is, standing there like it’s two years ago.

“I’m not your ‘hubby,’” I reply, my voice low. “And you shouldn’t be here.”

Karen flashes me her hallmark evil-witch grin and sways her hips from side to side. She’s wearing a pair of cut-off denim shorts that are so short they might as well be panties and a faded crop-top made from some band shirt that I don’t recognize. It’s tiny too. I guess technically she’s clothed, but she’s basically half-naked.

“Come on, Clark, it’s been two years. Don’t pretend you didn’t miss me.”

My pulse thuds heavily in my ears. “I left for a reason, Karen. That reason was you.”

She pouts her lips dramatically and moans. “Aw, do you have to be so mean?”

“I don’t even want to know how you found me,” I reply. “But I’m gonna go inside now, and you are going to leave and go back to wherever you came from.”

This is not good. Karen is the reason I left my last school and came to Greenhill College. I thought I’d put that part of my life behind me. I was sure of it.

I turn to go, but just as I slide my key into the lock, her voice stops me.

“Um, you might want to see something first.” She ducks into the backseat of her car, and when she stands back up, I see she’s holding a baby in her arms. “Clark, I’d like you to meet your son, Francis.”

Something shifts inside me. Something anger adjacent. An intensity so painful my eyes start to throb and every muscle in my body goes tense. Slowly I shake my head.

“We both know that’s not mine.”

“Do we?” she asks, taking rhythmic steps up the lawn toward me. “He’s got your eyes, don’t you think?”

I glance around the neighborhood. Most people have gone to sleep by now, but Susan, a retired lawyer who lives down the block, is out on her front porch and watching us.

“Don’t make me call the cops,” I say.

She cocks her head to the side. “And tell them what? That you preyed on me when I was your student?”