AVA'S P.O.V
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"Read it! Read it! Read it! Read it!"
I peered over Leslie's head in the dim light.
We were on the first floor, in one of the many re-adjustable rooms. Long rows of cushioned seats lined up from the back to the front.
I glanced at the new clock on the wall as the girls continued their two-syllabled chant. They thumped the floor with their sock-covered feet and smacked the back of the seats with their palms.
Tanner was late.
It was 11:30 in the morning, time for our first class of the day and unlike us, the section heads were allowed to waltz in any time they wanted.
If any of us tried that we'd have to sleep with a section head for as long as they wanted and think of a "creative" position every night.
That never ended well for any of us.
"Read it!" Someone whined.
I turned in time to see Skitty succumb to the giddy chants.
This type of excitement didn't come in regularly. We'd hate to cut back on any chance to make someone else smile with their entire face and not just their lips.
It'd be a while before any of us had something to genuinely smile about and Skitty knew that.
So she raised the letter and turned it toward the blinking light and read:
"Us and a candle-lit dinner under the stars.
You can have anything you want, diamonds or cigars.
It is with you that I always wish to dine.
Say yes and I'll bring every wardrobe from Givenchy to Klein."
Slowly, as everyone waited with bated breath, she folded the pink paper and set it on the empty seat next to her, took a deep breath, crossed her toned legs, and smiled.
"Sugars, we're going to Paris."
The room bubbled with giggles and dreamy sighs.
Paris, huh?
"The city of love," someone squealed.
"And freedom," another added bitterly.
Skitty tsked like a berating teacher. "Not just love and freedom," she ran her hands over her skin, "the city of everything. We'd take walks, kiss handsome strangers, warm our beds, nibble on handmade pizza and watch the city lights all night long."
"That's hot," Leslie smirked. "What else did he say in the letter?"
Skitty shrugged, "the usual, him taking and me giving, and, you know," she traces a line across her throat with her forefinger, "if anyone dares to meet my eyes."
I chuckled, "that's much better than the last guy."
"I know right? Who tells someone they'll give them a bouquet of bleeding human hearts if they agree to beastiality?"
Lucia pulled her leg over the seat and slid down. "And what were you supposed to do with those? Eat them?"
"Believe it or not, that's actually what he said." She rolled her eyes. "Creepy weirdo even tried to take my thong with him, talking about he wouldn't last a day without me."
Skitty, our personal entertainer, was known for exaggerating everything, which was why she received those creepy love notes from some of our clients.
Apparently, she was 'very hyper in word and deed.' She didn't get the name 'Skitty' for nothing.
She was like me and had a nickname for an actual name. Only a handful of people knew her real name was Jasmine.
"One of them made me sit on all fours the entire night." One girl, Kiki, in the back, announced. "Can you believe that asshat sat in the chair, drank vodka, and watched me in that position till the sun rose? Then he pulled me down and started cutting my kitty hair with bloody nail clippers."
Leslie and I snorted in sync, the entire class laughing with us.
Guila's eyes watered, "damn, he must have paid a lot for that."
Kiki went on, her teeth clenched, "he was so drunk and out of it that the second the bastard started clipping, he fell face first in my junk and went to sleep."
At that point, we were hollering.
"Coochie cushion," someone choked out and I keeled over, coughing and laughing until I could barely breathe.
Skitty sniffed, wiping her tears, "girl, I can one up that."
Lucia, ever the sucker for entertainment, moved over to Skitty, her tube top and panties crinkling, then perched on the wood next to Skitty's head.
"I bet you can't," she challenged.
Her back was to me but I was ready to bet a liver that she had that competitive glint in her eye.
Lucia would challenge anyone to anyone. We'd jokingly dared her to lick the stained underside of a bed and not only did she lick it clean, but she'd also begged us to dare her to lick another.
Dragging her out and scrubbing her tongue with three rounds of toothpaste was the only thing we could do in reply. No one had ever risked daring her ever since.
Skitty smiled slowly at Lucia, her dark lips widening, and said, "Hun, I got a suicide note. Get on my level."
A couple of 'oh please's and chuckles ran through the class but they were cut off a moment later when the door swung open.
Leslie heaved off my shoulder and we stood in sync, our left legs snapping to rest on our table at a perfect 90-degree angle.
It was our mandatory style of greeting each teacher.
Tanner banged the door shut behind him.
The bulb above shook as his green eyes inspected our clean-shaven legs. He strolled between desks.
No one dared to breathe too loud.
I didn't dare to breathe at all.
Tanner was one slinky, testy sonnuvagun. If you blinked too slowly, walked too fast, or zoned out for a millisecond, you'd get on your knees.
No one had ever walked out of his room without a bruise. As far as funky tastes went, he definitely took the cake, the crown, and the damned cup.
For someone who looked as innocent as he did, with cornflower blue eyes, a soft jawline, a wide smile, and swirling hair, he was the literal definition of 'never judge a book by its cover.'
Every class, he'd walk in, we'd pose our legs on the table and he'd look out to pick someone with a wilting posture to use for his needs.
I'd had him a few times, well, each of us had, but he seemed to have an eye on Remmie.
He'd slept with her once and never touched her again. If I hadn't been in the same class, I would have found it hard to believe.
A dull tapping on a seat slithered through the silence.
He'd picked someone.
Air whooped from my lungs, my racing thoughts disintegrating. I turned to see the poor soul.
Damn, it was Tate.
Tate, who was next to Remmie, clenched her jaw and dipped her head, accepting her fate.
She pierced Remmie, whose posture was clearly slacking —as usual— with a withering look.
Remmie looked confused. Tate shook her head and watched Tanner return to the front of the class.
No one had the guts to tell her. Remmie barely ever held on to her emotions and Tanner was bound to find out.
That wouldn't end well.
I glanced at Skitty and she rolled her dark brown eyes.
Paris sure would have been a sight for sore eyes.