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Extra Credit
by Terrie Relf
hona hated night school. She yawned, then yawned again, wishing that she had chosen the Saturday morning class instead. There were just too many distractions: Prof. Diaz strolling up and down the aisles; Todd clicking and unclicking his pen; her stomach growling.
Then there was Tasha with her shiny black hair slicked back with fragrant oil, her ears filled with stainless steel studs and rings, her pierced nose, her uniform of black turtle neck, black leather jacket, sleek blue jeans, and lizard skin boots.
"I get cold so easily," she said with her lisp of a voice.
The class seemed to bore Tasha, and yet she was there every night. But right before class was over, she’d slip out the back and disappear before Rhona ever got a chance to see where she was going.
Rhona had noticed her the first night of class, how she seemed older than the other students did, how the guys checked her out but rarely approached her. Even Prof. Diaz seemed a bit obsessed with her.
For Rhona, it was those obsidian eyes, and how she just knew Tasha saw into that place where she hid her darkest fantasies.
Todd turned around to ask Rhona something, but she didn’t want to talk to him. Not since the time he’d given her a ride home and he’d slid his hand up her thigh while he was driving. Not since he’d patted her on the ass as she climbed out of his convertible. He had no class. No class at all.
"Leave me alone," she hissed. Prof. Diaz glared at them both.
Prof. Diaz walked up and down the aisles with his hands held behind his back. Occasionally, he would lean over a student’s shoulder, watch their hands moving pen across paper. He rarely looked at what Tasha was writing, though, which underlined Rhona’s suspicions that there was definitely something going on with these two. She sighed wistfully, realizing that she probably didn’t have a chance with Tasha if she were seeing the teacher.
Rhona had to admit that she came to class to see Tasha, even though they never spoke more than a few words each class meeting. But they always exchanged some kind of meaningful gaze, even though Rhona wasn’t sure of the meaning. She often felt Tasha was in her mind; it was just a touch, almost a caress of a thought, as if she were quietly entering a room to check on a sleeping baby, then pausing for a moment to enjoy the exquisite beauty of their innocence.
Rhona imagined Tasha wandering the streets of downtown San Diego, stopping at this and that cafe, stirring her espresso while reading a book or writing. Perhaps she was an insomniac or preferred the moon to sunlight. Even though she was beautiful to Rhona, there were often dark circles under Tasha’s eyes, and her skin seemed too pale, as if she hadn’t slept or ate in days.
After class this time, though, Tasha hovered around Prof. Diaz, and then they left together. Leah followed them to Cafe del Noche, the trendy new place where everyone seemed anorexic and anemic and wore slinky black clothes. She knew she didn’t quite fit in, but she walked in anyway, and waited in line.
Rhona ordered a mocha, and found a table inside in the corner, where she could watch them from a safe distance. They sat outside under the stars. Prof. Diaz slowly sipped his espresso, while Tasha lazily stirred a spoon around in hers, toying with the lemon peel.
Tasha turned around and looked through the window, right into Rhona’s eyes. She smiled knowingly, reassuringly, then returned her gaze to Prof. Diaz who seemed so at ease with her outside class. After an hour or so, the two left the cafe, arm-in-arm, Tasha’s laughter reaching above Professor Diaz’ low resonant voice.
Rhonda tried to imagine them together, and how Tasha’s bedroom must be permeated with attar of roses--that, and a hint of something else. Something musky. Something metallic. Something unusual.
Attar of Roses was Tasha’s favorite scent. During class, Rhona always noticed when Tasha reached into her voluminous bag for the antique glass and silver atomizer covered with tiny pewter roses. She would tilt her head back, close her eyes, and spray perfume in a trail down her long, lovely neck. The room would blossom with the scent of her.
* * *
The next night at class, they had a substitute. It seemed Prof. Diaz was sick or something.
"I’m sure he’ll be back next week," the sub said.
Rhona looked around the room at her fellow students. Tasha was also absent, which was strange, as she’d never missed a class before. They must be all wrapped up in each other, Rhona mused, seething with jealousy.
Class ended early that night, and the sub shrugged off their concerns. "just follow the syllabus."
At the next class meeting, they had the same sub. "Still no sign of Prof. Diaz," he said. Rhona was really curious. Had they run off together? Maybe they were in an accident or something. But there hadn’t been anything on the news. It was just too coincidental.
Then Tasha strolled through the door. Rhona’s relieved smile was not lost on Tasha.
The sub let them out early again. As her classmates milled out of the room, Rhona took her time reorganizing books and papers in her backpack. The scent of roses wafted around her. She felt the firm pressure of a hand.
"Rhona, want to have a coffee with me?"
"Sure."
* * *
They walked away from campus, then down the sparsely-lit side street that lead to Cafe del Noche. Natasha insisted on treating, and ordered a mocha for Rhona and an espresso for herself.
While Rhona chattered nervously about this and that, Tasha listened patiently, stirring, but never drinking, her espresso.
Tentatively, Tasha rested a hand on Rhona’s. Rhona didn’t move, and Tasha grasped her hand, explored each finger, pressing here and there, slowly circling the palm with a long purple nail. Rhona shivered.
Tasha smiled knowingly. "Let’s go to my place."
They walked down the street, hand-in-hand, Tasha drawing her closer with each step.
After a few more blocks, they turned into a loft complex. How fitting, she thought.
It was dark inside, so dark that Rhona couldn‘t see a thing. After awhile, her eyes adjusted, and she watched as Tasha struck a match, then lit a group of candles.
"Would you like something to drink? Some music perhaps?"
"Water would be nice."
Tasha returned with a bottle of chilled water. "Sorry, all my cups are dirty."
Rhona opened it slowly, then titled the bottle back, drinking most of it before setting it down on the table. She noticed how intently Tasha watched her drink, how her eyes traveled from her hands to her mouth, down her neck, then rested on her shoulders.
Tasha slinked across the room toward Rhona, who sighed as the other woman gently stroked her cheek. Then, Tasha trailed one of her long purple nails across her jaw, underneath to her neck, where she rested her fingers, felt the vein throbbing against her fingertips. With her other hand, she circled first one nipple, then the other, pinching them occasionally, smiling when Rhona moaned and pressed against her.
"So soft, so soft," Tasha murmurred as she pulled off her own shirt, to feel skin against skin. Tasha wound her hand around and around Rhona’s long red hair, before clamping her mouth on Rhona’s.
After releasing her from the kiss, she laughed delightedly and announced,
"I’m going to tie you up."
She lead Rhona to the futon, skillfully bound her arms over her head, looping the cord through the boards, tying first one ankle, then the other to the slats at the end.
Kneeling before her, Tasha unzipped her jeans and tugged them and her thin silk panties down until she could slip her fingers, then her hand, between swollen folds of skin,
"Ooh, so wet, my love."
Rhona spasmed, thrashed around on the bed to the sound of Tasha’s resonant chuckle.
"You are going to be fun to play with. I knew I was right about you."
Tasha pressed her thighs further apart, revealing the fullness of her blood-engorged sex.
"So lovely," she crooned, trailing her fingers up along the insides of her thighs, extending her tongue to lap, then suckle the moisture, taking the plump mound into her mouth as Rhona tugged against the restraints.
"Oh--that was so good, Tasha," she sighed, then was startled from her erotic reverie by the touch of warmer, more gentle hands.
"Who’s that?" She opened her eyes, strained to lift her head from the futon, to see.
"Cover her eyes, darling. I don’t want to spoil our little surprise."
"Professor Diaz? Is that you?"
"And cover her mouth, too," he added, smiling wickedly at Tasha.
"Javier, darling, doesn’t Rhona need an extra credit assignment or two?"
"Yes, something like that," he chuckled.
They laughed, and Rhona would have joined in if she could, but something told her that she should be frightened, that the fun and games were over and the real purpose of her being there was fast approaching.
She’d forgotten all about the bliss earlier in the evening as one on each side, they untied her legs, then bent and pressed her knees against her chest. Rhona shivered uncontrollably as she felt their chill breath against her skin. Fingers lightly traced the path of a desired vein before their fangs penetrated her flesh.
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