Jan. Week 3: Friday- Leah meets Mr. Bill during her planning period

It wasn't long before her planning period arrived, marking the time when the regular hustle of students into her class was nonexistent. The hour until then was blurred in a haze of anticipation and anxiety until she found herself making her way to their predetermined spot.

Upon reaching the janitor's closet, Mr. Bill was already waiting; his smile widened as he quietly stepped aside to let her in before swiftly closing and locking the door behind them with an audible click. The space felt cramped even if it was much larger with the air ducts and vents that extended to who knew where. The area was filled with the scent of cleaning chemicals mixed with the faint musk of cigarettes……or was it weed?

His eyes bore into hers as he candidly expressed his desire for something beyond their usual interactions.

"You know," he drawled slowly, each word carefully laced with provocative undertones, "it's MLK weekend—a time for celebrating freedom and unity." He stepped closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I reckon it's only timely that we embrace this spirit ourselves."

“I doubt this is how the reverend would have wanted our relationship to work.” Leah rolled her eyes, she was unamused.

“Well I guess—’I gotta dream.’ and that dream is right there between those legs.” he looked on her undeniable lust in his tone. “Oh you suck a mean dick Miss Leah—BUT—I really wanna know what the little white pussy o’ yours feels like.”

“Are you kidding me?” Leah protested, her voice cracking at the realization of what he was saying. She had never had sex with a black man. It was so taboo. Her parents still used the N-word casually and judged anyone for “Race mixing.” It was something that she had always been curious about but the social taboo of it all had always been very real—even now—even if it was an unspoken taboo that people didn’t talk about for fear of being politically incorrect.

“Oh no, I ain’t kiddin’.” His tone change almost into a mock “I wants to see what Mr. Howard’s gettin, what that poor fool fiancé is gettin—or do you only gives it to Mr. Howard?”

She cringed at the accusation. A shot in her gut and she shivered despite the room being warm. His eyes bore into hers as he candidly expressed his desire for something beyond their usual interactions with her, simply on her knees.

Mr. Bill grinned, watched her expectantly, and with the slow, exaggerated flourish of a Vegas dealer, withdrew a gold-foil condom wrapper from the breast pocket of his filthy work shirt. It was a Magnum XL, and the look of exaggerated pride he wore as he brandished it at her was almost theatrical. Leah’s eyes went wide, not just at the sight of the condom but at the implied promise of what it contained—she remembered all too well the last time she had knelt before him in this very closet, her jaw aching and her cheeks streaked with tears and spit, and how it had taken both hands to keep him under control. Now the threat was even more real, more imminent, and her heart thudded with the mixture of dread.

Mr. Bill’s laughter was a low rumble.

“Damn, Miss Leah, I swear you look at this like it’s a damn **** sentence,” he said, wagging the gold-foiled packet between his thick fingers. “You ain’t scared of a li’l black dick, are ya?” He leaned in close, his face just inches from hers, his breath hot with a trace of menthol. “Or is it the condom that got you all jumpy?”

Leah bristled, but her voice caught before she could answer. It was both—the condom, the cock, the whole situation. It was the fact that she was even here, standing in a wire cage of mops and urinal cakes and staring down the barrel of a man’s smirk and his weaponized sense of humor. She was certain that if she backed out now, he’d make good on the threats he’d whispered in her ear over the last month.

“It’s not the size,” Leah muttered, glaring at him. “It’s the… everything else.” She hoped to sound tough, but even she could hear the tremor in her voice. Bill’s eyebrows shot up.

“Everything else, huh?” He cackled, then slipped the condom wrapper back into his pocket. “I mean, if you want to do it raw, I ain’t gonna stop you.” He shot her a knowing look, as if he could smell her private shame from across the room. “I’m sure you like it betta bareback.” He pronounced it with extra relish, drawing out the word like a dirty joke between friends. “Ain’t that right, Miss Leah?”

“That’s NONE of your business,” she snapped.

“Aw, sure it is,” he countered, stepping forward until her back pressed against the mop sink. “’Sides, I don’t know who all you been with. You teachers fuck like rabbits, you know that? Who ain't you fucked huh? Principal Howard, that pretty boy fiancé of yours, sum teachers too. Heck—who aint?” He curled his lips in a sneer. “So maybe I needs to wrap it up before I take a swim in the melting pot.”