Back to School, Part Four

I asked Flint if he’d hurt me and he suggested the big menacing rubber thing he’d been giving The Librarian bruises with. I agreed, if he promised to maybe give only about half the force behind each swing he’d been giving her.

He sat me down in a chair and a little pocket of people started to gather around as he began smacking my thigh with the tool. It made a wet, rubbery sound each time it hit, like a suction cup being applied and then torn away very quickly. An oval rose on one of my thighs, turning pink first, then red. The bruise began to protrude as well, bulging slightly from my thigh like an extra swell of quadricep.

A girl came over and put a sticker on my cheek for taking it so well, and we ended up having a conversation while Flint hit me to distract from the pain. 

“Somebody said you’re actually a teacher,” she said, gesturing to my outfit.

I nodded, “uh huh, yeah. I’m a teacher.” It made my get-up feel a little silly and a teensy bit degrading.

“You’re probably the hot teacher,” she grinned. “Actually, you’re definitely the hot teacher.” At first, I didn’t realize why she’d started laughing, but it dawned on me that I’d just started conspicuously blushing. 

When Flint finished, he asked if I needed aftercare and I severely underestimated how many endorphins were running through me, so I shot up from the seat. Instantly, I collapsed right back down and the girl who had been talking fetched me water, somebody else came back with some cheese and crackers. I put my head against Flint’s thigh and sucked in a deep breath, proud of myself for taking it.

“That’s going to hurt a lot tomorrow,” Lida said, inspecting the bruise.

She wasn’t lying.