Playing Musician

And so Brigitte Erikson lay her head back upon the pillow and closed her eyes, and despite some throbbing and aching in her bowels, sleep came swiftly and with a smile on her face.

* * *

Kayden James whispered her last words, closed the phone, and set it back on the nightstand. She glanced around and was happy to find the girl in bed with her still sleeping soundly. She would probably sleep until noon, at least; Kayden had plum worn the girl out over several hours of spontaneous sucking and kissing and licking, not to mention a ten-inch strap-on. It would have blown the little squirt's mind, if he'd been there.

She smiled, thinking of Josh.

His story was unbelievable, truly unbelievable, and from the mouth of anyone else, she would never have believed it. But it was Josh, and so there was no doubt in her mind. She grinned again, thinking of him during the experience, and how much fun he must have had. She was happy for him, and proud of him, and a little bit jealous, she knew, being honest with herself, and she sighed.

One thing, she realized, was abundantly clear: her little man was all grown up.

Epilogue: An Evolved Individual

It was eighth period, which meant the day was nearly done, but it was also Monday, which meant John Smith had four more days of uninspired lectures before the peace of the weekend brought its brief respite. Of course, eighth period also meant a group of gorgeous teenagers were to descend upon his class, which meant that, for the moment and for the first time that day, he was eager for the bell to ring and his pupils to arrive.

Abigail and Jessica were the first to appear, chatting in whispers and giggles as they took their seats. Both looked exceptional, as always, with brunette Abby in a flowing sundress that showed off her luscious legs and blonde Jessica in a tight pink shirt cut more than a little too low in front, presenting for his viewing pleasure the abundant cleavage between her fantastic tits.

A flurry of students followed: Darnell, Chris, Alexia, Ella, and Anthony entered in rapid succession. John cared little about the boys; his eyes were intent upon the girls. The blonde exchange student was always modestly dressed, but her jeans were so tight they seemed almost sprayed onto her skin. Ella looked, as usual, like she was five years younger than she was, which gave John a perverse thrill built of equal parts excitement and unease. His lust made him feel a little bit dirty, despite knowing the girl was eighteen.

Following the flurry, there was a short pause before the next student entered, and John was surprised when he saw Brigitte Erikson arrive; the girl was usually last, wanting to squeeze every last drop of her social time. She sashayed into the room in a mini-skirt and spaghetti-strap top, looking every bit the beauty queen, her chest thrust out and her nose tilted up. Her air of haughtiness broke only once, surprisingly, when the girl situated herself in her chair; John thought he saw her wince as she sat down, but the moment was so fleeting he just assumed he had imagined it.

Bailey walked through the door next, looking every bit the delicious cheerleader she was, but she was not alone. She was smiling eagerly at the person walking next to her, a handsome young man in a leather jacket and stylish dark jeans, with jet black sunglasses covering his eyes. He was clearly in the wrong place.

"Excuse me," John said as they passed.

The two stopped and looked back. "Yes, Mister Smith?" asked the girl sweetly, as the man she was with pushed the sunglasses up into his ruffled brown hair and added, "Yes, sir?"

And it was then that John Smith realized who it was he was addressing, and the shock at seeing Josh Redding in that moment was so acute he did not actually respond. The boy was markedly different in almost every way, even down to the simple manner of his walk.

"Mister Smith?" Bailey repeated, stifling a giggle.

John shook himself out of his stupor and cleared his throat. "Yes, yes," he stammered, "take your seats, please." The students obeyed, but there was much whispering in the wake of the exchange, and much of it was centered around Josh Redding. He cleared his throat again and said in raised voice, "Alright, people, our discussion today revolves around the Compromise of 1850. Who can tell me about it?"

And for the first time since school began several weeks earlier, Josh Redding raised his hand.

* * *

It was, more than anything, a sign of how much the weekend had changed him. He knew it as well as anyone, knew it because he was living it, although the look on the face of his teacher as he raised his hand was evidence enough.

All day, people had been staring at him, wondering just what had happened. Some had scoffed, but Josh did not care; he no longer worried what others thought, no longer worried what others had to say. He was his own person, and revitalized, and perfectly fine with it.

Bailey had cornered him earlier in the day. She talked to him, and had seemed surprised when he mentioned they shared American History. She made him promise to walk her to class, which was kind of a funny process, both the promising and the execution of the promise; the girl was clearly flirting with him heavily.

Apparently, he thought with an inward smile, he hadarrived.

He did not speak to Brigitte during class, as there was no real opportunity to do so. He watched her from his place two seats behind her, however, thinking back on the way her body had been his personal playground for one unbelievable night.

When class ended, Brigitte took longer to gather her things than usual, and so she was still sitting in her chair when he passed. He paused for just a moment and said, looking down, "Hi, Brigitte," and waited as she raised her bright blue eyes to meet his browns.

There was no recognition, however.

"Hi," she said with a look of annoyance, as if she could not understand why he was speaking to her. It was not unusual from Brigitte, who cared little for others.

"You look good today," Josh told her, and without waiting for a response turned and strolled from the classroom to where Bailey was waiting for him in the hall. He did not, therefore, see the moderate look of confusion flitter over Brigitte's face, nor the almost imperceptible wince as she lifted herself from her chair.

Bailey smiled playfully and batted her eyelashes. "Walk me to my car?" she cooed, sidling up next to him.

"Sure thing," he said, and was about to say more, but vibrations in his pocket gave him pause.

And so he flipped open his phone and brought it to his ear, in time to hear the voice of Rex Jennings say with absolute clarity and a great touch of amusement, "Josh Redding? I've got another proposition for you."

Josh grinned. "I'm in," he said, as he wrapped his arm around Bailey and headed for the building door. He pushed the sunglasses down over his eyes and walked out into the glorious sunshine.

End ofPlaying Musicianby Jack and Josephine Cutter. Future stories starring some or all of these characters might also be forthcoming based upon response and demand. Certain characters featured herein may also be found in other works by the authors, published or forthcoming. Email feedback to the address in our profile.