SubscribeStar Story: The Tutor, Part 27

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Part 27

Like everything else I had been going along with, there was a part of me that knew it was a bad idea to obey. But I did.

My eyes fluttered closed and I lost sight of the red haired girl cupping my cheek. Part of my obedience was because I was holding onto the hope that Annabelle meant what she said about getting back to tutoring soon. Whenever we got through whatever this was. Something told me her definition of ‘just a minute’ would be the loose, teenage version. Also, closing my eyes somehow felt safer. At least, the personal darkness meant I didn’t have to deal with eye contact or the daunting height Annabelle had on me when we were standing so close together.

And I waited. For an agonizing few seconds, nothing happened. All I felt was her hand on my cheek; all I heard was silence and perhaps the nervous beating of my own heart. Finally, she gently brushed her thumb against my skin and let out a quiet sigh. “You really are pretty. You know that, don’t you?”

I could feel my blush return as her warm breath tickled my lips. How close was she? Because we really shouldn’t- Then her words hit me. I was speechless. I mean, it’s not like I was unattractive; I knew that much. However, I had always considered myself on the cuter side of things at best. And my academic streak didn’t leave me too much time to worry about my looks in the morning when I was already exhausted all the time. So to hear a gorgeous, confident girl like Annabelle compliment me like that . . .

“Tell me that you’re pretty,” she said, when I didn’t answer what I had hoped was a rhetorical question.

“I-I’m pretty,” I mumbled. My eyebrows twitched in discomfort, threatening to open. Saying something vain like that was so unlike me, even when directly prompted. Annabelle was quick to remind me to keep my eyes closed.

“And do you remember what pretty girls do?” she gently asked.

That’s right. Before, she had subtly preyed on my insecurities and my relaxed state when first talking about how I should behave. That was when I let her undo my bra. I immediately felt conflicted. This time around, it didn’t seem like there were any strings attached to the compliment, and then there was the way she said it. She sounded so kind, and genuine, and almost affectionate. Now I had to somehow reconcile that with how she approached the simple yet effective word. Because as much as I considered myself a girl who didn’t need validation from anyone, Annabelle had a way of somehow drawing such desires from me. And I did want to be pretty.

Annabelle brushed my cheek again, comforting me with her touch despite being the one who brought about the pain in the first place. Her other hand gently landed on my hip, although I managed to avoid flinching this time around. I wasn’t scared. I was brave. “What do pretty girls do, Mere?” she asked, “You’re a smart girl, too. Come on.”

“Pretty girls . . . behave,” I said. My cheeks must have been crimson at that point, and I was morbidly curious about whether or not her hand could feel the heat radiating from my face.

“Mm hmm,” Annabelle hummed. Her fingers idly traced my bare side just above the waistband of my skirt, and she continued speaking in that calm yet ever so slightly demanding way. “Pretty girls behave. And brave girls are honest.”

It was all I could do to nod. Both phrases were familiar at this point, and both of those qualities were things that I wanted to be known for despite the doubt about whether or not I actually deserved them. Was I really that brave? Or pretty, for that matter? Annabelle seemed to think so.

“And you promised to behave, Mere. To be a good girl for me,” she continued, “How about another promise? Do you promise to be honest . . . ?”

Of all the questions asked of me, this one was the easiest to get through. I did consider myself honest. Nodding again, I replied, “I promise.” After an awkward few seconds of silence following my answer, I clarified, “I promise to be honest.”

“Good girl,” Annabelle said. Grazing her fingers from my cheek to my chin, her body somewhat shifted forward as well. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel the movement through the contact her hands had on me. Before I knew it, her lips lightly brushed mine. “Be honest, Mere. Do you want to kiss me?”

My lips lightly pushed back against hers. Purely out of reflex, similar to when I kissed Annabelle back that first time earlier on this very same day. Her question barely registered before I murmured a quiet, “Yes.” I was supposed to be honest, because I was brave, yet the simple black/white answer was enough to make me falter afterwards. “I mean . . . ”

“Mere.” The way she said the nickname that had become more and more regular throughout this session sounded like ‘pay attention’ in its inflection. “Be brave. Say the whole thing.”

I could feel her lips nudge mine here and there as she spoke in such a close proximity to me, and her warm breath cascaded over my own lips with the exhale that followed her directive. During our first session, when she had been doing lingerie-clad yoga, I had insisted that I wasn’t into girls. At least, outside some cliché university experimentation that the redhead didn’t need to hear about. But with Annabelle, the eighteen year old girl who could socially run circles around me without breaking a sweat, I was far less sure. Even without her demanding gaze, she had a way of captivating me with her voice, and her touch, and her words that kept me flustered and confused. At the moment, I was not at all the version of myself that arrived earlier prepared to lay down the law and set some serious boundaries for these tutoring sessions.

“I, umm . . . ” I trailed off, flinching as her lips pressed into mine. It took everything in me to not part my lips and technically be the one who initiated the kiss. Even though she started it. Instead, I shifted back ever so slightly and simply brushed against hers in a similar manner to what she did moments ago. Somehow asserting that I wasn’t afraid, but also maybe shouldn’t be doing this with her?

It was one thing to kiss her back. That was a reflex anyone might have; purely physical in its nature, before the mental side of things kicked in.

And then, when I kissed her up here, it was . . . to prove something? I couldn’t remember the exact progression, but it was similar to the bravery thing.

But this was notably different. This was saying that I wanted it. That made me culpable, and admitted something I wasn’t sure was true, despite how we were poised to do that very thing and I had yet to make an attempt to pull back or voice my concerns. My hands were both free. I was more than capable of pushing Annabelle’s hand off my waist, or slapping her away from the intimate and borderline possessive way she held my chin while my eyes were closed. Especially with the collar, but . . . I decided to push that transgression away while focusing on the current situation.

Kissing Annabelle.

Well, at least ‘confessing’ that I wanted to. Which I didn’t. Probably. Even though I blurted it out without a second thought.

Annabelle leaned in and more fully pressed her lips against mine. “You are fearless, Meredith.” I could feel her way more than before this time. Every syllable grazed and brushed my lips as she formed the words against me, and the tone this time was a combination of sultry boldness and unexpectedly intimate flattery. It made me want to melt right then and there, despite the distant thought that she might have ulterior motives for such a seductive compliment.

Without thinking about it, I leaned in and tried to kiss her. But didn’t succeed. The moment I felt the smallest hint of pressure between our lips, she pulled back. Teasing and baiting me, but I was too wrapped up in the moment to realize. Instead, I inched forward to take the kiss that only felt more tempting now that I had to chase for it. Once again, I couldn’t do anything more than the lightest attempted peck before she stole away from me. “Annabelle . . . ” I whispered in frustration.

“What do you want, Mere?” she asked. I didn’t need to see the smirk. I could practically hear it in her voice.

“I-” I shivered as she nudged her nose against mine and leaned in herself, only to give me a third false kiss that didn’t actually lead anywhere. ’Fuck you, Annabelle.’ It’s what I wanted to say.

Instead, I offered the simple current truth, “I want to kiss you.”

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