Page 20 of Take Me Slowly, Part 1 (Aurora Hollow duet #1)

LEAH

"I'm so glad you're here, they've been wild this morning." Whitney's messy bun was even messier than usual. Her green-grey eyes showed how frazzled she was, but she was smiling, regardless.

"Oh, good." I grimaced playfully. "What could be better than a room full of wild five- and six-year-olds?"

Whitney laughed and patted my shoulder. "You'll do fine. They'll sit still and listen to you."

I gave her a dubious look, but stepped into her classroom.

The kids were all seated at tables, giggling and poking each other until they realised a new person had stepped into the room.

"This is Miss Kent," Whitney said, gesturing towards me like I was the prize on a television game show. "She's going to give you an art class today."

That got a squeal in response and a bunch of kids bouncing up and down in their seats.

"Can we do finger painting?" one of them called out. A boy with straight, black hair and dark eyes.

"Not today, Kennett," Whitney said.

The class collectively groaned.

"I thought we could do some drawing," I said. "Miss Ferguson said you have pastel crayons."

"That's right, we do," Whitney said. "We only use them for very special occasions." She looked at the kids and nodded as she spoke.

"Is this a special occasion?" a girl with short, blonde hair asked. Her huge blue eyes and solemn expression made her look as though she was six, going on forty.

"I think so, Dakota," Whitney said. "Can you get the crayons out for the class please?"

"Yes, Miss Ferguson." Dakota pushed her chair back and walked over to a set of drawers on the side of the room. From there she pulled out four or five packets of crayons and started to place them in front of pairs of the kids.

"They don't seem so wild to me," I said softly to Whitney, giving her a sideways glance.

She snorted. "For you, they aren't. You should have seen them two or three minutes ago. They would have been throwing the crayons around the room."

"If we throw these crayons, we don't get to use them again," Kennett said, obviously hearing the conversation.

"Absolutely correct," Whitney told him. "We take good care of our special art supplies." To me she added, "Funding for them is limited. I wish we didn't have to police them, but if we're going to have anything to use for art, I have to."

"That sounds familiar," I said. My school was the same way. Most schools seemed to be. The arts weren't as valued as they deserved. Shame, because everyone was happy to consume art in the form of books, movies and music. How would we have those things if we didn't nurture talent in kids?

"What are we going to draw?" Dakota returned to her chair and sat with her hands clasped in front of her.

"I thought you could draw each other," I said. I counted quickly to make sure we had an even number before nodding. "You can draw your partner and then your partner can draw you."

"Who are you going to draw?" Dakota asked.

"She's sharp as a tack," Whitney whispered.

I could see that. "I thought I'd draw Miss Ferguson."

For some reason, the kids thought that was hilariously funny. They all burst into laughter, even Dakota.

"Can you make her look funny?" one of the boys asked. With bright blue-green eyes and a turned up nose, I bet he got away with all sorts of things he shouldn't. Riley and Connor probably looked the same at his age, but with fewer freckles.

"You think I don't look funny already, Lincoln?" Whitney teased.

"Yeah, you do." Lincoln grinned in delight. The rest of the class cracked up laughing again.

I couldn't help smiling. I didn't think I could do this day in and day out, but they were adorable for a little while.

"Let's get you all some paper." Whitney bustled around giving each of the kids a couple of pieces of paper and handing some to me. She waved to a chair to the side of the room. "Sit, sit. Where do you need me?"

"On the toilet!" Lincoln shouted.

Once again, the class erupted in laughter.

"How about you put a chair in front of your desk and sit there?" I suggested. That way, she could keep an eye on the class while I kept an eye on her.

I lowered myself into my seat, trying not to let on that the flare-up from the night of helping at the pub hadn't completely died down. The bath and the orgasm made it better than it might have been, but the chair was low.

Still, I couldn't stop thinking about the way Connor came on me and Riley. The surge of hot cum on my cool skin. The way Riley licked it off.

I shouldn't be thinking any of this in a room full of kids, and especially not in front of Connor's sister.

Not that she could read my mind, but if my face heated too much, she'd definitely notice and wonder why.

She wouldn't ask questions now, but knowing her, she'd ask later.

She didn't want details, but she'd want to know how involved I was with both of them.

Since I didn't even know, it was best not to go there for now.

I got out my own pastel crayons from my bag and waited for Whitney to get settled before I started to draw her.

I worked quickly, outlining the shape of her face and shoulders in black crayon, before adding in detail. Every so often, I glanced at the kids. They were mostly quiet, focusing on their paper, and their partner. The occasional giggle would break out, but never lasted long.

Whitney warned me in advance they might have short attention spans, so I finished up the rough sketch of her before putting down the crayon and standing to walk around the room and look at the kid's work.

Dakota was drawing Lincoln with great care.

"Make sure you do my eyes the right colour," he said. "My mother says if you're going to do art, you have to do it right and make things look how they really are. She said people don't really have three eyes."

"Art is creative," I said as diplomatically as I could.

"Things don't always have to be perfect.

Lots of it isn't. If your creativity tells you three eyes is a good idea, I say go for it.

" I didn't want to contradict his parent, but there was no right or wrong way to be creative.

If there was, no one would have ever heard of Picasso.

"Can I draw you with three eyes?" he asked eagerly.

"Of course you can," I said.

While Dakota finished off the picture of him, he grabbed up a bright green crayon and started to draw something that didn't resemble me as far as I could tell, but he seemed to be enjoying the process a lot more.

"You're good with them," Whitney said from beside my shoulder.

"I don't like to see people suppress creativity," I said. "He might be an artist too some day."

"He just might," she agreed. "Or an art teacher."

"Yeah," Lincoln said. "I can be an art teacher that plays pro hockey. And builds houses with my dad."

That was certainly ambitious. I hoped whatever he did, he'd be happy.

"My mum says I'm going to be a doctor," Kennett declared.

"I'm going to be a lesbian like my mothers," Dakota said softly.

"Her mums are the best," Whitney declared. "They're the best plumbers in town. If you ever need one, just call on Gina and Serena. They'll sort you out right quick, right, Dakota?"

Dakota nodded, still solemn but now with a hint of pride on her face. "I'm going to work with them."

"That's awesome," I said. "The world definitely needs more girls in trades."

Dakota blushed faintly before looking down at her drawing and fixing up lines here and there.

"They remind me so much of myself at that age," Whitney said. "I used to sit in this exact classroom. My brother's class was next door. You can imagine how many times I heard the teacher yelling at him and Riley." She made a face and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

"I bet you all were adorable back then," I said.

"Of course we were; we're still adorable," she replied, pretending to be offended.

"Absolutely! Of course you are." I wasn't sure that was the word I'd use to describe either of those guys. Attractive, arrogant and hot; those fit better.

"Finished!" Lincoln declared. He held up his picture, three eyes and all.

I made out a face with a ton of spiky hair and big ears. "Do I have two mouths?"

He giggled and nodded. "One to eat and one to talk."

"That would be useful." I glanced sidelong at Whitney, who was trying not to laugh. I could see what she was thinking. Two mouths would be useful for sucking two cocks at once. Except now I was thinking about sucking Connor and Riley's.

"Very useful," she agreed. She wasn't being very helpful at helping me to keep a straight face. Her expression made me want to laugh, but I didn't want Lincoln to think I was laughing at him. That wasn't how talent was nurtured. Or enthusiasm, for that matter.

"You could laugh and eat a burger at the same time," Kennett said.

"I'm starting to be envious of a drawing of myself." I was relieved to have a reason to laugh, this time at myself.

"Do you want to keep it?" Lincoln, suddenly shy, offered me the sheet of paper.

"I'd love to," I said. "But you need to sign it first. Then, someday, when you're famous, I can show everyone my Lincoln original artwork."

He grabbed up a bright yellow crayon and wrote his name in big, awkward letters before offering me the paper again.

"I'll cherish it forever," I said. "I'll put it on my fridge when I get home."

A thing my mother never did. If she kept any of my childhood artwork, she stashed it away where I couldn't see it. My stepfather had a couple of pieces my stepbrother did framed and hanging in his office, but nothing of mine. I'd cherish this picture all the more because of that.

Lincoln grinned. "Thank you, Miss Kent."

"All right, class," Whitney said.

Before she could say another word, the bell rang and the kids bolted from their seats, grabbed up their bags and ran for the door.

"Well then." She laughed at how fast the room emptied. "Thank you for doing this today. They had a lot of fun. You're welcome back any time."

"Do you want to see my drawing?" Now I was suddenly shy. People had varied responses to seeing themselves on paper. Sometimes good, sometimes not so good.

"Of course I do." She followed me over to the table and gasped. "Oh my God, Leah, that's incredible! You made me look so pretty."

"You are pretty. I picked up the piece of paper and handed it to her. "You can keep it if you like."

"I like, I like," she said with a smile. "I like it so much." She managed to tear her eyes away from the drawing long enough to give me a hug. "You're so talented."

"I'm okay," I said modestly.

Yes, I could draw and paint, but it wasn't where my whole heart was. Although, my heart hadn't been whole for a long time. Not since my body started to be so broken.