#ernthefern666

Aftercare with Melissa looks like being fed, not coddled. So once your legs stop working right, she's already up, robe thrown on, coming back ten minutes later with a glass of ice water and a plate she reheated just for you. "Sit up and eat somethin'. You worked hard just now, I ain't havin' you pass out on me." You wake up to iced coffee already waiting on the nightstand, made exactly how you take it.

Her whole living room is wrapped in plastic like a crime scene, except for you. Walk in looking wiped from your day and she'll crack a beer, drop onto the couch, and pull you right into her lap, cushions be damned. "Forget the couch, sweetheart. For you I'll buy a whole new set. C'mere and let me hold you a minute."

She sleeps on the side of the bed closest to the door. Always has, ever since she was a kid running around with her uncles, and now it just means you get pulled flush against her chest all night, one heavy arm thrown over you like a seatbelt. Wake up from a bad dream and she doesn't even need to open her eyes to tighten her hold. "I gotcha. Nothin's gettin' past me tonight. Go back to sleep."

You mention once, offhand, that some lingerie brand is always sold out online, and three days later there's a box waiting on the kitchen table with your name on it. Ask how she got it and she just shrugs like it's nothing. "Don't worry about it, it fell off a truck. Go try it on for me."

Some days Abbott just empties her all the way out, whether it's Ava running the budget into the ground or a parent losing it at conferences, and she doesn't come home wanting to talk about any of it. She wants her hands on you. You'll hear the front door, then her keys hit the bowl, and then she's got you backed against the nearest wall before you've even said hello, mouth at your throat, done thinking for the day.

She loves making you work for praise. She'll tease you right up to the edge and hover there, watching you get needier by the second, before she finally gives in and her voice drops into something low and rough against your ear. "There she is. Look at ya, doin' so good for mama. Wasn't that easier than throwin' a fit?"

Some guy tries buying you a drink at the bar and Melissa doesn't bother with words for him. Her arm's around your waist before you've clocked she moved, pulling you back against her chest while she stares him down until he finds somewhere else to be. In the car her hand's already sliding under your shirt. "Mine. Say it."

She never raises her voice when you're mouthing off at a family thing, she just leans in close and drops it to something only you can hear. "Keep talkin'. See what happens to that mouth once we're home." Then she goes right back to her plate of ziti like she didn't just ruin the rest of your night.

Rocky's on in the background more than any other movie in that house, mostly because it gives her an excuse to get handsy while pretending to watch it. Halfway through the montage her hand's already crawling up your thigh, fingers slipping past your waistband like it's nothing, and she loves it most when you've got that pretty polish on because she likes watching your hands fist the sheets. "Relax. Just gettin' comfortable." She is not just getting comfortable.

Don't bother hinting at what you want, she doesn't play that game. Start dancing around it instead of asking outright and she'll stop cold, arms crossed, eyebrow up. "I don't do charades. Use your words or we're done here." Say it plain and her whole face changes, smug and satisfied, already moving to give you exactly what you asked for.

Her dirty talk doesn't waste time being pretty about it, and when she's really worked up the Italian slips out on its own. "Santa Maria, look at ya. So wet for me already." Call her babe out in public and she'll wave you off with an eye roll, but get her alone, deep inside you, and tell her you're hers, and she goes completely still for a second before that smirk creeps back in. "Damn right you are."

She keeps a mental list of everything that gets you weak, never says a word about it, and just ambushes you with it later. Mention once that you like your neck bitten and three weeks after that she'll have you pinned against the counter mid dishes, mouth already there. "What? Can't a woman multitask?"

She's got a laugh she only breaks out once she's got you exactly where she wants you, low and a little wicked, nothing like her regular laugh. Hear that one and you already know you're not walking straight tomorrow.

Try running the show while acting like you're just going along with her and she clocks it instantly, and she is not amused. She'll pin your wrists with one hand and just look at you. "Oh, you think you're runnin' this? Cute." Then she takes her sweet time reminding you exactly whose room this is.

Very vocal. “Yeah? Ya like that?” “Look at you, baby, makin’ a mess on my fuckin’ thigh. That’s my good girl.” It’s gruff and filthy and makes your stomach drop in the best way.

If you have an argument, the sex that follows is intense. Like she’s trying to apologize with every bite, every grip, every grind. She doesn’t say sorry with words unless it’s serious, but her mouth on you? That’s where she means it. Her tone’s rougher, like she’s mad at herself and taking it out on your thighs.

She loves teasing you in public. Just a hand on your lower back that dips too low. A whispered “You wearin’ those panties I like?” while you’re trying to order coffee.

Melissa never lets you drive. You want to go out? She grabs her keys and drives you anywhere and everywhere. She always has her hand on your thigh, playing classic rock. She likes to keep her eye on you.

Friday afternoon at Abbott Elementary brought a specific kind of exhaustion. The hallways were finally empty. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead with a low hum that gave everyone a headache.

​Melissa stood at the front of her classroom scrubbing the whiteboard with a dry eraser. She pressed way too hard. The black ink smeared into a stubborn gray cloud on the board. She muttered under her breath about the school district buying cheap supplies and how she was going to have to bring in her own cleaning spray from home.

​Her mind was already halfway out the door. She had a pot of sauce simmering in the kitchen. She pictured you walking through her front door later tonight. You had been doing that for six months now and It still felt like someone was going to pull the rug out from under her at any second.

​Then the substitute teacher leaned into her doorway.

​He was young. Maybe twenty five at most. He had perfect posture and a bright smile that belonged on a local dental commercial. Melissa paused her scrubbing. She narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

​"You lost, buddy?" she asked.

​"Just admiring the classroom," he said.

​That was exactly when you walked in. You carried a thick stack of fresh copies for Monday's lesson plan. You smiled the second you saw Melissa, but the sub caught your attention first. He shifted his weight to block the doorway. He turned on the charm the absolute second he looked at you.

​"Hey," the sub said. His voice dropped half an octave. "Didn't know Abbott had teachers like you."

​Melissa gripped the whiteboard eraser until her knuckles turned bright white.

​You laughed it off. It was a polite sound. It was the kind of laugh you gave to a stranger at a grocery store who made a bad joke in the checkout line. "I'm taken," you told him directly.

​He did not take the hint. He leaned a little closer to you. He invaded your personal space to look at the papers in your hands. "Shame. If you ever want to grab a drink and complain about the administration, let me know. I'm covering for Mr. Morton all next week."

​Melissa dropped the eraser onto the chalk tray with a sharp clatter. It echoed loudly in the empty room.

​"She said she's taken, pal," Melissa snapped. "Now keep walkin' before I show you exactly how friendly the staff here really is."

​The sub blinked. He looked between Melissa's furious glare and your polite smile. He finally took a step back. He nodded at you before wandering back down the hall toward the main office.

​Melissa saw the whole thing happen. She saw the exact way he looked at you. More importantly, she saw the math of it all playing out in her head. He was young. He was exactly your speed. He didn't come with an ex husband or a famously bad temper.

​The drive to her place was entirely silent. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands instead of resting her right hand on your thigh like she normally did. Classic rock played softly on the radio. The tension in the front seat was suffocating. You knew better than to push her when she had that tight look on her face. She needed to stew.

​An hour later, that tension was still sitting heavy in her chest.

​You stood in her kitchen. The smell of garlic and crushed tomatoes filled the warm air. Melissa stood at the stove stirring the pot like the wooden spoon had personally insulted her.

​"You makin' friends with every kid fresh outta college who wanders into my room now?" she asked. Her voice was sharp and clipped.

​You put your work bag on the counter and blinked at her back. "Melissa. He was just being polite."

​She turned around. Her jaw was set tight. "Yeah, polite my culo. He was starin' at you like you were the only thing on the menu."

​You took a step closer. The corner of your mouth twitched. "Are you jealous?"

​Melissa scoffed loudly. Her cheeks flushed a telltale pink. She lifted her chin and held her ground. "Don't flatter yourself. I just don't like punks thinkin' they got a shot. I don't like people who don't know their place."

​You tilted your head. You knew exactly how to push her buttons and get past the tough exterior. "Melissa Schemmenti. Jealous of a substitute teacher?"

​She dropped the wooden spoon onto the ceramic spoon rest. She crossed the kitchen in three quick strides and closed the distance between you. Her voice dropped low. It was tight and completely guarded. "You don't get it. You could have him. Someone young. No baggage. Meanwhile I'm here wonderin' how long before you wake up and realize you could do a hell of a lot better."

​That broke the playful mood completely. You reached up and cupped her face. She tried to look away but you held her steady. You let your thumb brush along her cheekbone.

​"Melissa. I want you."

​Her green eyes searched yours. She was looking for a lie. She expected you to flinch or take it back. She found nothing but the absolute truth. The stubborn tension in her shoulders finally cracked.

​"What the hell do you see in a woman with a quick temper and a lifetime of grudges?" she whispered.

​"I see you."

​Melissa surged forward. She kissed you hard. It was all teeth and heat and desperation. She backed you roughly into the kitchen counter. The cold edge of the granite pressed hard against your spine. Her hands were everywhere at once. She grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head in one violent motion. It landed somewhere on the tile floor near the fridge.

​"Christ," she muttered against your jaw. Her breath was hot and heavy on your skin. "I've been wantin' this since the day you walked into my classroom. Had the guts to look me in the eye like I was somethin' special."

​"Then take it," you gasped.

​She didn't need to be told twice. She grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the kitchen. You walked past the living room couch with its plastic covers squeaking slightly as you brushed by. She led you straight down the hall to her bedroom and kicked the door shut.

​Melissa pushed you onto the mattress. The heavy quilt caught your fall. She hovered over you for a second. She took in the sight of you spread out on her bed. Her eyes were dark and incredibly hungry.

​"Look at me when I'm talkin' to ya," she demanded softly. You met her gaze immediately. "Didn't say you could look away."

​She unbuttoned her blouse with quick, practiced movements. She discarded it on the floor. Her bra followed a second later. She stood by the edge of the bed in just her work slacks. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths. She was beautiful. She had full curves and soft skin and a demanding confidence that required absolute attention.

​She climbed onto the bed and settled right between your knees. Her hands found the button of your jeans. She undid the denim with one flick and pulled them down your legs. You kicked them away until you were completely bare under her gaze.

​Melissa traced a finger down your stomach. She watched your muscles shiver under her touch. She slipped her hand lower. She pressed the heel of her palm firmly against your core.

​"You're soaked. All for me?" she rasped.

​"Only for you."

​"Good," she growled. "Because nobody else gets this. Nobody."

​She sank two fingers inside you. You gasped loudly. Your hips arched off the mattress on pure instinct. Melissa curled her fingers upward. She hit the exact spot that made your toes curl into the sheets.

​She leaned down and caught your mouth in a bruising kiss. She swallowed your moans. Her fingers pumped inside you in a steady, relentless rhythm. It wasn't gentle. It was fiercely possessive. She wanted you to feel exactly who was touching you and who you belonged to.

​You whimpered into her mouth. Your hands gripped her bare shoulders. Her skin was warm and slightly damp with sweat. The only sounds in the room were the wet friction of her hand and your ragged breathing.

​Melissa pulled back. She dragged her tongue down your neck and over your collarbone. She bypassed your chest entirely and moved lower. She settled between your thighs. The heat of her breath ghosted right over your wetness.

​"You're mine," she murmured against your thigh. "I'm gonna make damn sure you remember that."

​Her mouth closed over your center. Her tongue flicked right against your most sensitive spot. You cried out. Your hands tangled in her red hair. You pulled gently, but she held her ground. She sucked hard. She plunged two fingers back inside you at the exact same time.

​The sensation was entirely overwhelming. Her tongue was relentless. Her fingers stretched you wide. You couldn't catch your breath. Your vision blurred at the edges.

​"Melissa," you sobbed.

​She hummed against you in response. She didn't slow down. She increased her pace. She knew exactly how close you were. Her thumb joined her tongue. She pressed hard against your clit while her fingers fucked you deep and fast.

​Your body tightened like a coiled spring. The climax hit you like a physical blow. You screamed her name. Your thighs clamped down tight around her ears. Your internal muscles spasmed violently around her fingers. Melissa drank down every single drop of your release. She swallowed your taste while you trembled violently on her sheets.

​She waited until the final aftershocks faded before she crawled slowly up your body. She kissed you deeply. You tasted yourself on her lips. It was salty and incredibly intimate.

​"Beautiful," she panted.

​She wasn't finished. She shifted her weight and straddled your leg. She guided your thigh right between her legs. The slick heat of her core pressed firmly against your bare skin.

​"Touch me," she commanded.

​You reached up and cupped her heavy breasts. You rolled her nipples gently between your thumbs. Melissa threw her head back with a guttural groan. She started to grind against your thigh. Her hips rocked in a slow, agonizing circle. The friction built a loud, slick sound between your bodies.

​"Oh fuck," she hissed. Her Philly accent thickened as she started losing control. "Yeah. Just like that."

​You kept your hands on her chest. You praised her quietly while she took exactly what she needed. She set the pace. She rode your thigh with an urgency that left you breathless all over again. Her nails dug deep into your hips to anchor herself in place.

​"I wanna feel you," she begged softly.

​You shifted your hips upward. You met her grinding with your own movement. Your clit slid perfectly against hers. The direct contact sent a fresh jolt of electricity straight down your spine.

​Melissa gasped sharply. Her eyes squeezed shut tight. "Christ."

​She picked up her speed. Her breasts bounced heavily with every single thrust. You wrapped your arms around her waist to hold her close. Her skin was burning up. She ground down against you so hard you felt the impact in your bones.

​"Look at you," she ground out. Her breath hitched in her throat. "Makin' a mess on my bed. My good girl."

​The dirty praise hit you right in the chest. You climaxed for a second time. It was messy and incredibly sudden. Wetness rushed between your pressed bodies.

​Melissa felt your release and it pushed her right over the edge. She let out a loud, ragged cry. Her hips slammed against yours one final time. Her body went completely rigid as her orgasm tore through her. She collapsed heavily onto your chest, completely spent.

​You wrapped your arms around her shoulders. You listened to the frantic beating of her heart against your ribs. Your legs were tangled together in the heavy quilt. The smell of sex and garlic sauce filled the quiet bedroom.

​A long time passed before anyone moved.

​Melissa finally rolled off you. She didn't say a single word. She stood up and grabbed her silk robe from the back of the door. She slipped it on and tied the belt tight around her waist. She walked out of the room without looking back.

​You laid there for a minute. Your muscles felt like warm jelly. You didn't panic. You knew exactly how she operated.

​Ten minutes later, she returned. She carried a tall glass of ice water in one hand and a plate of reheated ziti in the other. She set the water on the nightstand with a heavy thud.

​"Sit up," she ordered gruffly. She held the plate out to you. "Eat somethin'. You worked hard just now. I ain't havin' you pass out on my watch."

​You pulled the sheet over your chest and sat up. You took the plate from her hands. The food smelled absolutely incredible. "Thank you."

​Melissa crawled back onto the bed next to you. She claimed the side closest to the door. She didn't ask. She just threw one heavy arm over your waist. She pulled you flush against her side while you held the warm plate.

​"You know," you said quietly. You picked up your fork. "I really do just want you."

​Melissa rested her chin on your shoulder. She watched you take a bite of the pasta. She pulled you a little tighter against her chest. She let out a long sigh.

melissa schemmenti who didn't care about straight A's so much as whether you tried. "you gave it your best shot? good. now don't lie to me about it."

melissa schemmenti who started planning your halloween costume in july. no explanation. just fabric on the table one day and "trust me."

melissa schemmenti who packed the car with folding chairs, a cooler, and every cousin she could round up for a friday night game like it was a family obligation. because it was.

melissa schemmenti who showed up to every backyard trampoline afternoon with a bag of philly pretzels, "so nobody's whinin' about bein' hungry in an hour."

melissa schemmenti at sunday dinners, gravy on the stove since morning, the house so loud with cousins you couldn't hear yourself think, and somehow she still heard you the second you needed her.

melissa schemmenti who kept a fleetwood mac cd in the glovebox for the days she didn't feel like talking, and you learned real quick not to ask.

melissa schemmenti whose kitchen always smelled like garlic and sunday gravy. never measured a thing in her life. smacked your hand if you went for a taste before she said so.

melissa schemmenti who drove with the windows down and the radio too loud, singing off key to billy joel, and you pretended to be embarrassed but you weren't, not really.

melissa schemmenti who watched rocky with you every single time it was on, no matter how many times that was, mouthing half the lines without meaning to.

melissa schemmenti who taught you which uncle to actually listen to and which ones were, her words, "full of it."

melissa schemmenti who yelled at the eagles game like the refs could hear her all the way from south philly.

melissa schemmenti who had opinions about your music before the song even finished.

melissa schemmenti who sat you down before your first day of high school and said exactly one thing. "you don't gotta be liked. you gotta be respected. big difference."

melissa schemmenti in the passenger seat for your first driving lesson, white knuckled, yelling directions half a block before you needed them, and still handing you the keys again the next day.

melissa schemmenti who never had extra money lying around but you never once felt like you were missing something. she made sure of that, quietly, every time.

melissa schemmenti who stayed up way later than she let on, waiting to hear the front door, pretending she'd just been up watching action news.

melissa schemmenti after your first heartbreak, who didn't say much, just made your favorite food and sat with you until you were ready to talk. and when you were, she just listened. no lecture. that came later.

melissa schemmenti who met the first person you brought home with a look that could strip paint off a wall, then made them a plate anyway.

melissa schemmenti who showed up early to every school thing and sat facing the door, pure habit, no real reason she could give you.

melissa schemmenti who dropped you off on the first day of somewhere new, all bravado in the car and quiet a block away, watching in the rearview a second longer than she needed to.

melissa schemmenti who let you go when it was time, packed your car herself, cried in the house after you pulled away and denied it completely when you called that night.

• She treats you like the ultimate status symbol. Ava loves dragging you to school events just to watch the other teachers stare. She will pull you by the belt loop in the middle of the hallway and kiss you stupid right in front of Janine just to prove a point. "Let them look. I bagged a perfect ten and they're all going home to cats and frozen dinners."

• Ava requires direct eye contact when she has you pinned to the mattress. You try to look away because it is too intense and she immediately grabs your jaw. Her acrylics press right into your cheeks. "Eyes on me baby. I'm the main event. You don't get to look away when I'm giving you exactly what you begged for."

• Her version of aftercare is strictly financial and luxurious. She is not cooking you a meal. Once you are completely wrecked and shivering on her Egyptian cotton sheets she's ordering you ridiculously expensive takeout on her phone. "Keep being a good girl and I'll let you pick the restaurant tomorrow. Now open your mouth and let me feed you."

• Ava refuses to let you drive anywhere. She specifically insists on chauffeuring you everywhere in her car with the twenty six inch rims. She keeps one hand on the steering wheel and the other gripping your thigh the entire ride. "Relax princess. I got you. You just sit there and look pretty for me."

• Her dirty talk is filthy and deeply self absorbed. She praises herself just as much as she praises you. "Yeah you like how I do that? Of course you do. I'm the best you ever had. Look at you making a mess for me. Such a good needy little thing."

• She knows exactly how to push you right to the edge and leave you there. Ava will grind against you in her office while her phone rings with a call from the superintendent. She answers it and maintains perfect composure while you are literally biting your lip to stay quiet. She hangs up and smirks. "Aww look at you. Did you want me to finish what I started? Beg for it."

• If you even mention a celebrity crush she shuts it down instantly. "Him? Please. I have more style and way better hair. Plus he/she doesn't know how to make you scream like I do. Come here and remind yourself who owns you."

• You're trying to focus on your laptop or scroll through your phone but Ava physically can't stand not being the center of attention for more than five minutes. She snatches the device right out of your hands and tosses it onto the floor. "You think that screen is more interesting than me? Delusional. I'm the masterpiece in this house. Get on your knees and show some appreciation for the real art before I step on it."

• You're playing a sad indie playlist on the bedroom speakers while getting ready and she walks in wearing absolutely nothing but a smirk. She hits pause on your music immediately. "We aren't listening to this depressing whining when I'm looking like a whole snack and a half. The only sounds I want to hear in this room are coming out of your mouth. Come over here and prove you know how to use it."

• She makes you visit her at Abbott after hours just so she can lock the principal office door and push you right over her desk. She sweeps a whole stack of student files onto the floor just to make room for you. "You see this leather chair? This is a throne. And when you're in my building you address me with respect. Say it. Say yes Principal Coleman while I make you lose your absolute mind."

• Ava loves buying you ridiculous outfits that scream high maintenance. If you try to wear a basic graphic shirt she'll literally burn it. She zips you into a skin tight designer dress and pulls your hair right at the nape of your neck to whisper in your ear. "Look at you. Upgraded. You're walking around wearing half my paycheck and you're going to pay me back in the bedroom tonight. Every single cent."

• If you talk back to her she doesn't get mad. She gets completely predatory. She'll back you right into the kitchen counter and press her thigh heavily between your legs until you're gasping. "You've got a lot of nerve running that smart mouth. Keep it up and I'll leave you strapped to the bed frame for hours while I go get a manicure. You're going to learn exactly who runs this relationship."

• She takes her doomsday prepping incredibly seriously and that includes making sure you're properly conditioned for survival. She corners you in the basement next to her floating tank and pins your wrists above your head. "When the apocalypse hits it's just going to be you and me down here. You'd better start practicing how to keep me entertained right now. Show me you're essential personnel."

• Her jealousy is completely unhinged but she spins it to sound like she's just protecting her assets. If another woman even breathes in your direction at Essence Fest she's instantly gripping your jaw and tilting your head up. "Keep your eyes on the prize baby. These broke girls couldn't afford you anyway. Now open your mouth and show everyone exactly who you belong to."