Page 3 of Dock

Simple.

I’m taking this shit because…

I don’t know.

I guess the last tourist I fucked kinda got to me.

She gave me a bunch of shit about being uneducated.

Still let me bang her in the bathroom.

And again, in the rec shop supply closet.

And once more in dressing room stall of the suvy shop while her newly employed Haworth Enterprises accountant fiancé took another call on their engagementmoon.

Which isn’t a real fucking thing.

Educated enough to know that.

And how to make a woman come hard enough to fucking cry.

There’s something they don’t teach in school.

Or fuck…maybe they do.

My experience in this department is low.

Real. Fucking. Low.

Pretty sure I’m the dumbest asshole in here.

By a lot.

“Just like I was available last week after class to help you with your script writing assignment, I will be available again today.” Her burlap sack – I guess it could be a skirt? – covered ass leans against the corner edge of the teaching desk which is closer to the window than it is me. “And if you need help but can’t stay after class today,” she inches her round, gold, wide rim glasses upward, “remember, I am available for sessions tomorrow afternoon and evening as well.”

Fridays are for parties.

Clubs.

Bars.

Fucking.

Why doesn’t she know that shit?

Yeah, everyone here isn’t my age – and some are even older than her – but I doubt they wanna spend their Friday night getting tutored on a creative writing assignment for a college course they’re probably never gonna use for more than bragging rights on soc’.

Then again.

I wouldn’t mind getting tutored on something else.

I’m always willing and ready to learn how to make a woman cry out my name.

Well.

The one on my patch.

Who the fuck knows the last time I had one call me by my actual name.