Page 48 of Forbidden Pregnancy
She’s here for work, so I don’t expect her to meet my lingering gaze. But I can’t stop thinking about what it was like to take this woman’s virginity against the wall of the guest house. It was hot. Spontaneous. And I want more.
Then again, I don’t want Myra to think my only interest in her is sexual just because I completely fell apart after kissing her. Cosima has to leave her lessons early today for a doctor’s appointment and I plan on using that opportunity to make a real move on Myra and ask her on a date.
“Okay, so that is past tense, not present. Conjugate it again. It’s just likeparler,” Myra says patiently. Cosima sighs, but she doesn’t fight this time. She takes her pen in her non-dominant hand and starts writing. Myra looks up at me, but once my eyes meet hers, she hurriedly returns her gaze to the paper.
“Good job, Cosima. Much better.”
Myra smiles and gives Cosima new verbs to conjugate. I can’t stop staring at Myra. I waited an entire week since Cosima fell off her horse for this lesson. They normally meet twice a week, but with Cosima’s injury it just wasn’t possible. I fantasized about Myra’s features the entire time we were apart. I agonized over her feelings and how she might be handling the sudden loss of her virginity.
Kissing her last week felt fantastic. Addictive. I study Myra’s face for any signs that she might be upset or hurt over what happened between us last week. She doesn’t seem to care about anything except Cosima’s ability to conjugate French verbs. I find that suspicious.
I’ll also admit it bruises my ego to think that having sex with me could have left Myra totally unaffected. I’m very much affected by her. And desperate to show her I care.
This time, I’m the one tapping my feet and sighing until the end of the French lesson. Myra even has to give me a dirty look to stop my fidgeting. The only thing Cosima hates more than paying attention to her classes is visiting the doctor, so she drags her feet when putting her things away.
“By the time this broken arm heals, you’re going to be fluent in French,” Myra says with the type of constant enthusiasm only teachers seem capable of mustering up.
“Do you really think so?” Cosima asks.
“Of course. And when you’re fluent in French, I will bring you a chocolatecrêpe.”
“What’s that?” Cosima asks, wrinkling her nose in confusion and possible concern that she might be agreeing to eat frog legs.
“It’s a delicious flat French pancake which I will smother in chocolate and surround in strawberries.”
“That sounds pretty good,” Cosima says, cracking a smile. “I’m going to study tonight.”
“Perfect.”
“Bye, Myra.”
“Bye, girl.”
Myra eyes me nervously. Cosima walks towards the door and looks over her shoulder at me in the doorway.
“Are you coming, stink bug?”
“I hope you’re not talking to me,” I growl, my cheeks heating up. Younger sisters are intensely embarrassing.
“Aren’t you going to stomp behind me all the way to the parlor?”
“I have to talk to Myra about her bonus,” I lie through my teeth to my naive younger sister, who shrugs and immediately buys my obvious lie.
“Whatever. Smell ya later.”
“I’ll meet you after the appointment,” I respond sternly. I would much rather lock Cosima in a puppy crate than allow herto smell me. Myra packs up her things quickly, but I immediately stand up and get between her and the door.
“We should talk about last week.”
She glances up at me in confusion that causes my stomach to sink into an uncomfortable void of despair. Women don’t normally provoke such a physical response in me and I struggle to keep my composure in Myra’s presence. What is happening to me right now? Did I stumble upon the world’s first heartless virgin?
“We don’t need to do all that,” she responds calmly. I would normally attribute her peaceful demeanor to her profession as a teacher, but today her attitude feels malicious and cold. She’s too detached and it humiliates me to feel like I’m the one emotionally unbalanced in her presence. Myra’s gaze further puts me on the spot as she holds me in place expectantly with soft yet gigantic dark brown eyes.
“Okay…” I say, powering through with my original plan. “Would you go out with me then? On a date?”
I stumble through the words and sound so stupid that my stomach sinks again when Myra doesn’t immediately respond with a “yes”. I don’t know why I expected her to act like the girls we went to high school with who fawned over me to the point where sleeping with one or the other wasn’t even a challenge.
“What’s your game here, Michael?” Myra asks defiantly, her arms folding over her chest and filling me with a deep worry that she’s going to reject me and turn further observation of her private lessons into a continuous humiliation ritual.
