Ship: Brittany/Santana (side Kurt/Sebastian, Quinn/Rachel)
Rating: Nc-17/M.
Author: Forwood/EdyFerrone.
Summary: Santana Lopez is a total nerd and she's fine with it. The only problem is that the badass girl Brittany is making her life impossible. Everything chances eventually when Santana is designed to be Brittany's tutor. (Badass!Brittany, Nerdy!Santana. Side Kurtbastian and Faberry)
A/N: Please, read the notes carefully.
This is story is linked to the Kurtbastian one, Come And Take A Walk On The Wild Side (posted on EdyFerrone's account). It is not necessary for you to read both, but it would help you getting through the verse better. We also wanted to give you some warning before you read: this story includes dub-con, bullying and eventual use of pot and drugs. If you don't feel comfortable with any on these themes, I suggest you don't read the story.
Please, let us know what you think about it!
Beta: Itsnevergettingbetterthanthis.
/
Prologue
"So ..." Emma Pillsbury takes a deep breath before she begins. "The reason why we're here today has nothing to do with punishment or all of these things that you teenagers think are counterproductive or anything like that. We're here because we believe it's important for you that you realize that your educational situation is slightly above mediocrity. A disastrous school career at the limits like yours might affect your life, your future, your family and-Kurt! Get your feet off the desk!" She screams out anxiously at the thought of how many germs are invading her daily territory.
Kurt smirks and stares at Miss Pillsbury, smugly, right in the eye, challenging her with his gaze. For a few seconds he considers ignoring her order, but, even though he is usually so out of control and arrogant, he knows that his didactic situation is dramatically serious. He's not stupid. That's why he calmly shifts his legs, allowing Ms. Pillsbury to sterilize the desk with her wipes.
"That's just what I was talking about!" Emma exclaims angrily, probably more horrified by the bacteria left by the student's shoes. "Not only is your situation tragic, but your teachers also complain about your behavior. We're only a few months from graduation, don't you have any dreams for college? For your future? Or would you rather be stuck in this school forever?"
The blonde girl sitting next to Kurt snorts and shoves a hand in her pocket to pull out a cigarette. She quickly leads it to her mouth, wrapping it with her lips, dyed in a sparkling red that would surely leave a mark. An arrogant smirk comes over her face and she looks so proud of herself for acting so out of line.
"Brittany! No smoking here!" Mr. Schuester scolds her, standing next to Emma, who has begun to cough because of the cloud of smoke that is spreading through the room.
"That sucks Mr. Schue!" Brittany exclaims, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.
"Put it out, now!" Mr. Schuester orders again and this time Brittany is forced to obey, but she doesn't betray her style.
Kurt gives a smug look while Brittany stubs out her cigarette on the desk directly in front of Will and Emma 's shocked eyes.
"Oops." Brittany murmurs innocently, before laughing out loud with Kurt.
"Enough!" Will exclaims firmly, slamming his big hand on the desk to restore order and shut the room up.
Hearing the strong and authoritarian tone Schuester was using, Santana - sitting in the other corner of the desk, next to her best friend, Sebastian – almost jumps off of the chair, scared. She hates when people scream, or worse, when kids lacked respect for adults. As a child she had received a rigid upbringing and the first thing she learned from her family - besides discipline being his life motto - was just to respect the adults.
Santana can't really see two people of her age so bold as to challenge their teachers and disobey the rules. If she'd ever do such a thing, her parents would probably throw her out of the house.
However, neither she nor Sebastian have figured out yet why they're in Ms. Pillsbury's office along with those two jailbirds. Even being in the same room with them for Santana is sort of a crime, a violation of law.
She doesn't even dare to look up to meet these ice-blue eyes that occupy her thoughts, because she's afraid.
Brittany S. Pierce is Santana Lopez's worst nightmare.
She never understood why this girl enjoys torturing her so much, making her life difficult, so much that more than once Santana had planned to talk to her parents and to ask for a transfer to another school to spend her Senior year in peace. But the idea of abandoning her best friend, Sebastian, at Kurt Hummel's mercy had crushed any hope of living a serene adolescence.
She sighs and begins to move her legs nervously, waiting to know what Schuester and Pillsbury have in mind.
"Mr. Schue," Brittany begins, wrapping an arm around Kurt's shoulders, "now that we know we won't pass the year, we can go?" She asks annoyed.
"I can't breathe in here. There is too much stink of failure." Kurt adds, pointing at Sebastian and Santana at his right with the index.
"Guys, please." Schuester says while Emma sinks into the chair, still deeply shaken by their behaviors. "What we're trying to do here is for your own good."
"How can our good to include these two?" Brittany swings, looking into her eyes without a second glance.
Santana bites her lower lip nervously, clutching her chair and controlling her breathing that suddenly getting agitated. She can even feel her cheeks grow hot and probably colored along her cheekbones, but she can't help it; every time that Brittany's there, she has no idea how to justify the feelings of discomfort that invade her, forcing all these terribly nervous gestures.
"Not a word." Schuester replies firmly, tired about their impudence. "Do you want to graduate? Do you want to build a future or want to throw your life between alcohol and drugs?" Will continues seriously.
"What Will is trying to tell you is that, along with Principal Figgins, we've decided to assign you tutors to improve the subjects in which your situation is really critical; biology and chemistry, Spanish and French." Emma explains. "And this brings us back to you, guys," she adds, pointing to Sebastian and Santana.
"W-what do you mean P-Miss Pillsbury?" Santana asks stammering.
"No one told you can speak, nerd." Brittany growls towards her.
"Brittany!" Will shouts, ordering her to be quiet.
Santana thanks Schuester with a shy nod, though her eyes have become hopelessly wet. Whenever Brittany assaults her with bad words - no real reason behind it all – she immediately feels the need to cry, the need to be protected.
"We believe that you're the right people for this task. It won't be easy, but Brittany and Kurt need to learn from model students like you. That's why we have compiled for you a program and ..." Will turns to Kurt and Brittany. "... Santana and Sebastian will be your tutors."
"What!?" The four students cry at the same time.
"This is madness!" Kurt mutters, shaking his head.
"We can't breathe the same air they breathe for more than ten seconds, how would it be possible to spend our time together to study? Forget it, Mr. Schuester!" Brittany rebels, throwing a disgusted look at Sebastian and Santana, who look down at the pavement, frightened.
For the first time in their lives, they both seem to agree with Brittany and Kurt.
Neither Santana nor Sebastian approves Schuester's freaking crazy idea. Neither Santana nor Sebastian is excited to help two people who have done nothing but hurt them in the last few months, making their high school lives a living hell.
They both want to express their opinion, make it clear to the two teachers how uncomfortable this bizarre situation is, but the fear of saying a word in front of their worst nightmares is so great their words are lopping off in their throat.
Santana can't help but think that there would be consequences to her words, that Brittany would see it as an absurd lack of respect and, therefore, she might take revenge in worst ways she already has.
"We're not giving you an option," Schuester repeats more seriously. "This is essential, not optional. Your situation is catastrophic; you might lose the school year. "
"But we don't want-"
"No complains, Kurt," Schuester interrupts him before he can finish the sentence.
"This is your calendar," Emma adds, placing four small pamphlets that have cute and chubby little men with books in hand on the cover and within the schedule for the entire week on the desk. It says at least one and a half hours of study for each subject.
"I'm sorry to destroy your precious castles of conviction, but we really don't wanna get involved with losers like that," Kurt protests again, supported by Brittany. "I mean, did you see yourself in the mirror?" He asks, turning to Sebastian. "Those sweaters scream 'older than my grandma'. You're an insult to good taste!" He exclaims laughing along with the blonde at his side.
Sebastian immediately becomes red with embarrassment and clenches his hands into fists, he wants to punch the arrogant look off of Kurt's face.
There's nothing wrong in his sweaters; they're warm and comfortable.
Santana shakes her head and puts her hand on Sebastian's shoulder as if to comfort him, but Kurts's words seem to have a deep humiliation reserved for him.
"And look at her ... Nerd, have you ever thought to lock yourself in your house and never come out again? No one would miss you here at school," She croaks acidly, exchanging a nod with Kurt.
Santana immediately feels uncontrolled tears sliding down her flushed cheeks and she shrugs, more vulnerable than ever.
She wants to get away from here as soon as possible.
"Enough!" Will snaps again. "You have no choice, you'll study with them and if your grades don't improve ... there's no way you're graduating. Do you want to refuse our help? Okay, I'm ready to call your parents and tell them you're about to be suspend for a month."
At these words, Kurt and Brittany freeze in their chairs, even unable to laugh.
"In addition, if you just try to still make fun of these two guys, I'll take care of it personally," he adds, turning then to Santana and Sebastian. "If have any problems, please contact me and Miss Pillsbury. Don't be afraid guys." They both nod shyly. "That's all for today."
/
Santana and Sebastian spent much of the next hour sitting on the floor of the girls' bathroom, their back resting against the wall, talking about it and describing the apocalyptic depressing situation in which they're forced to spend hours a week with their bullies to get them to study. It's already an impossible mission; imagine if you add to that the fact that Brittany and Kurt have full control over them, since they look like they're too good to be afraid of anything.
Eventually, the ringing sound of the bell signals the end of the break and the beginning of the last hour of lessons, the one they can't miss (just like all of the others). Sebastian and Santana hold the record for least amount of absences in the whole school, maybe that's why they were considered the quintessential of nerd by all of McKinley.
That nickname had never bothered them so much. Actually, they were kind of proud of being nerds. They were meant to be the children that their families had always wanted, pupils with the highest averages of the school.
Of course, this affected their social life, but they are trying to make it together at least. They don't have many friends - none actually - but they can surely rely on each other.
Santana walks down the hallway with her head down: she hates to have all eyes focused on her as if she were an alien. There's nothing wrong with her. Usually Sebastian's presence at her side helps her to ignore the terrible cheerleader jokes, but unfortunately the Spanish lesson is the only one they don't have together.
Holding her hands tight wrapped around the books, walking faster to the classroom where she's going to feel safe, but turning the corner, she bumps against something, or rather someone.
"You're supposed to be the little useless silicone nerd that should teach me something." Brittany rests her elbow on the wall, as if she has been waiting for her. An evil grin is spread on her dyed red lips, and those blue eyes are staring at Santana to intimidate her. "I'm not interested in surgery or collection of stupid comics you've got to read from the first to the last page, so tell me ... what could I get from you?"
Santana freezes on the spot and her body reacts by immediately starting to shake, visibly. She's sure that her legs are going to fail if only she dares to look up and cross those ice-blue eyes.
"I-I-I can to help you to ..." Santana sighs, trying to calm the trembling in her voice that makes her even more ridiculous than she is normally, "... Improve your grades." She mutters, biting her lower lip, ready to face the next insult without being able to rebel to her.
"Oh, and how? I'm not going to spend my days sitting in a high school classroom, alone with you, like a poor loser." Brittany replies, not even hesitating a bit with her voice, cold and cruel. "Unlike you, I have a life that doesn't only consist of comics, video games and afternoons spent cleaning glasses. It must be very sad, I guess ... "
Santana feels her eyes become hopelessly shiny and wet, new tears forming at the corners, ready to fall down her face. But she's not going to cry in front of her, not again.
"W-Why are you so mean to me?" Santana mutters. "I haven't done anything-f ..."
"Oh, but you have." Brittany answers immediately, putting her hands on her hips. "The mere fact that you breathe the same air in Ohio as I do, means you have. You have no idea what it means for a person like me to just even know that you exist." She lifts an eyebrow, firmly determined to go all the way.
Santana tries to collect herself, she tries seriously. But the result is just a silent cry.
"S-stop ..." she whispers in a faint voice. "Stop insulting me, stop treating me like this!" She tries to fight back, not knowing what to expect in response.
"Why?" Brittany asks, raising an index to point it threateningly against Santana and enjoying her reaction, the way she sighs, startled by the fact that she could hurt her. "I would never stop doing something that I enjoy so much. Maybe if you'd stop being so fun to mistreat I'd give it a try, don't you think?" She gives her a wink, sarcastically.
"I-I will talk about this with Ms. Pillsbury and Mr. Schuester!" She exclaims, trying to intimidate the taller girl, with little success. "I don't want to have anything to do with you!" She fights, sobbing.
"Do you really think they could do something about it?" Brittany asks with a grin, reaching out a hand to her shoulder in an ironic way to pat her. "They've never helped you, they never will. No one can protect you, nerd."
Brittany is right. In all those months of torture, no one has ever lifted a finger to put an end to these acts of bullying. Sure, Santana never had the courage to denounce harassment she suffers everyday for fear of further consequences, but it isn't a mystery in the eyes of Principal Figgins or teachers that many students are targeted by that group of petty criminals.
"That's not true!" She lies, maybe more to herself than to Brittany. "Mr. Schuester will b-ban you if only-"
"If I only?" Brittany asks, with an evil grin that spreads more and more. "If I only hurt someone small and insignificant like you?" She lowers her voice and comes over to whisper the words directly on Santana's face. "Nobody cares about a freak like you."
This time she doesn't even try to hold back the tears that flood down her face.
"Go away!" She exclaims, trying to dry her wet cheeks with the palm of her hand, but the excessive proximity to Brittany limits her movements. She's so scared that she wouldn't even have the strength to cry out loud if Brittany hurt her physically.
"Oh, someone here is trying to provoke me …" Brittany says, tightening her fingers around her shoulder, never letting go. "Don't do that, sucker. You would regret it, and you know it, don't you, Santana Loserz?"
Santana simply nods, unable to utter a word. She just wants to end this nightmare, with Brittany letting her live, she just wants to go to her class and do her homework and then go home and cry in her mom's arms.
Perhaps, if she doesn't fight her, Brittany will leave soon.
"Very well, now that you understand exactly how things are going, Loserz, I'm not going to waste even a minute more of my precious time on your mute lips," she replies, with a grin, wrinkling her nose. "I look forward to the end of this torture seriously, so I can breathe the smell of winning again."
A glimmer of hope is kindled in Santana. Brittany hates her company as much as Santana hates hers. Is this the end of her nightmare?
Santana lifts her wet - but hopeful - eyes to cross Brittany's damn blue and clear ones as if to ask permission to go.
But all that she does just is show her how weak she is, how much power Brittany has over her, she's showed her just how Brittany's words can really affect her.
Santana Lopez feels like nothing. Santana Lopez is nothing.
"Enjoy your asocial day, loser." Brittany grants, greeting her with her hand in an ironic way. "I have people to see. Real people, I mean. Not characters in pixels."
She doesn't even know why she's nodding at her words, maybe it's just a habit since Santana seems to be a robot whenever Brittany is around.
Santana has never felt like a person, to be honest. At least not in that school.
From the moment her path had crossed Brittany's, her life had lost all value.
A person differs from a machine, they don't have feelings.
Santana doesn't have that characteristic, not anymore. She's just an object that satisfies the whims of a young immature and rebellious girl, a person who has made life a living hell.
She turns and runs sobbing toward the classroom, still accompanied by the laughter of her worst nightmare.
/
The moment she crosses the threshold of the gym, Brittany is already feeling out of place: the stupid place is one of the most unknown places to her, since she has skipped carefully all the lessons that would provide physical activity - as well as other subjects actually.
Her eyes are becoming accustomed to capture the prey, they immediately point at the girl in overalls who shrugs at each ascent of the women's volleyball team, terrified that some of these big girls could take choose her as a target.
Brittany grins at the thought and walks over.
"How many balls hit you today?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest and getting the attention of those dark eyes that were turned firmly to the floor just a few seconds ago.
"None." Santana murmurs soon, as she's also afraid of talking.
It has only been two days since that incident in the hallway - 'bless the weekend' Santana thinks - two days when Santana is back to feeling like a person, not an object to mistreat and throw, two days in which Santana hasn't shed even a single tear about her miserable life.
And now, with the start of the new week, she'll be forced to see Brittany for an hour and a half. Every day.
Nowhere to run.
She has done nothing but curse her teachers - something that she's immediately regretted because, despite everything, Santana doesn't know what hatred is – who have forced her to meet the girl who is ruining her adolescence.
She's imagined every possible scenario for this experience and certainly her expectations aren't the best. She wonders how many times they are going to interact before Santana burst into tears again.
"I have prepared schedules for our lessons." She explained, intimidated by Brittany's gaze on herself. "I have a c-copy for you too," she adds hesitantly, handing her one of the papers clutched to her chest.
"Oh thank goodness." Brittany mutters, absently taking the paper from her hands and looking down at it. "Do you realize that because of your f-fucking stutter I thought that you were going to say 'I have a c-crush on you," she even mimics her voice.
Santana immediately blushes and looks down in embarrassment. She has never focused on the aesthetic side because she has never had the chance to actually stare at Brittany for more than ten seconds in a row without bursting into tears or looking away because she was unable to keep up with her.
Her eyes, however, are the only thing she remembers perfectly about her, perhaps because she's too used to reading into them the hate and disgust that Brittany feels toward her.
Brittany has a certain reputation in this school, but Santana has never been able to define her attractive.
She can't.
"I rated the subjects on which to work according to your grades." she decides to ignore the comment. "I think we should start with chemistry, given we have a test next week." She silently compliments herself for completing a sentence without stuttering even once.
Brittany rolls her eyes at that though, obviously annoyed by the fact that Santana has decided to ignore her joke, since she is so proud of having pulled it out.
"Chemistry is a language I've never understood." Pierce snaps, immediately setting the record straight. "I can't understand it, how can Mr. Schuester and Carrot Top think you can change that, honestly."
"Chemistry is one of my favorite subjects, Miss Summers says I'm her best student." There is a brief moment when Santana smiles. Maybe it's the first time she smiles while Brittany is in front of her. But the obviously ironic laughter that follows forces Santana to look down again. "I can teach you everything you need to know, from balancing to the periodic table, blending and-"
"You're also the teacher's favorite, right?" Pierce asks amused, with a sharp voice. "This is fucking hell," she mutters, shrugging. "The only kind of blend I know is something that you can't even imagine with your little innocent virgin mind."
Santana shrugs and hides her red face, her skin is on fire and Brittany enjoys seeing her like this.
"S-Stop it," she mutters in a trembling voice. "I just want to help you, why are you so m-mean to me?" She asks once again, but she expects the same usual answer.
"Mean?" Brittany immediately asks, wrinkling her lips, as if Santana had wounded her with her words. "Oh, no baby, you're mean for the simple fact that you exist and annoy the rest of the human race with your presence. I'm helping the world when I handle you." She reaches for the Santana's hand to grab her in her own, caressing her oddly; she can't help but be pleased with the way Santana startles.
To say that Santana was literally shaking would be an understatement. The only times she had had a physical contact with her was when Brittany pushed Santana against a locker, or something like that.
"Please don't hurt me ..." Santana pleads closing her eyes tightly and trying to pull her hand away with little success.
"Then don't make any more comments like that, got it? Calling me mean because I do something good is really a horrible thing." Brittany mutters, pretending to be sorry. "Don't you think the world would be a horrible place if there wasn't someone to hold off you losers?"
Santana nods imperceptibly, she even agrees to insult herself just to get away from her, to create a safe distance that would guarantee that she wouldn't suffer any kind of harm.
Her hand is burning in Brittany's strong grip that seems to grow every time Santana tries to pull away from her touch.
"Don't hurt me ..." Santana repeats, sure her eyes are already shining with fear.
"I'm not it." For once Brittany seems sincere, moving her thumb on the back of her hand. "I'm stroking you. If you stopped pulling your hand away, maybe I wouldn't need to tighten up around it. What problem did you have in life that you can't recognize violence from a caress?"
At these words Santana just lifts her eyes and stops squirming. Brittany is right, it's just a caress. A caress that - Santana wouldn't admit it out loud, not even for two free tickets to the Comic Con in San Diego - is deliciously enjoyable. Brittany's skin is soft and warm against hers.
But that can't erase the fear in her dark irises.
"You are my p-problem," she confesses, biting her tongue immediately for what she has said.
Brittany blinks, looking at her with confusion in her eyes, but then smiling malignant.
"Oh, no, sweetheart." She murmurs, stroking her hand with more force, almost threateningly. "I'm not your problem. Have you noticed that you haven't got hit by a single ball since I'm sitting here? And then you were like this even before I made you notice, so I'm clearly not your problem."
'I'd rather being hit by a ball.' Santana thinks, biting her lower lip to keep words that could irritate Brittany.
"You're right," she nods to please her, but at the same time, she tries to withdraw her hand again because these 'caresses' - if they can be called so - are starting to scare her.
Brittany is unpredictable and Santana has already tried that, only fail again.
Safety distance, her brain shouts like an alarm.
Immediately, as soon as she tries to pull away, Brittany stops her: she pulls her closer with her own hand to fight and Santana finds herself suddenly approaching, until she is almost on Bittany's lap in a completely unintentional clash caused from her attempted escape.
She has no idea what has happened or how it happened, but Santana finds herself with one hand resting on Brittany's leg - to avoid falling and attracting all eyes upon herself - and just a few inches from her face so that the tips of their noses are touching slightly.
For the first time Santana is staring at those lips, so thin and apparently soft, her white cheeks with smooth skin, her freckles - that Santana thinks are adorable - loosely covered with the thin layer of make-up, her eyebrows perfectly groomed and then once more those eyes that penetrate inside her with one look.
She hates to admit it, Brittany is really gorgeous.
But when she becomes aware of her body, their position, the way they are touching, Santana immediately feels like she can't breathe and her blood is pulsing in her veins so strong that she fears it's the sign of a heart attack.
"Are you comfortable?" Brittany asks abruptly, distracting her from that contemplation. "Because you know, I'm starting to think that you also want to drink a cup of tea sitting there. So is it nice, at least?" She asks, clearly sarcastically.
Before she can control it, however, her blue eyes slide over the girl's body lying awkwardly on her and she can't help but stare through the light and innocent neckline, to dwell on her perfect boobs. The vision immediately sends a shock down her spine, but she ignores it; she's still a loser, right?
Santana seems levied by these harsh words and, awkwardly, she leaves to return to her seat. This time, with her pleasant surprise, Brittany has released her hand.
"S-sorry." She did not know why she was apologizing; after all it wasn't her fault. She wouldn't have even dared to think of such a thing. She feels uncomfortable even to look at her, let alone to lie almost completely on her body.
"As you wish." Brittany mutters, too confused by her own thoughts to be able to really focus on her words, too shaken from having seriously contemplated this nerd's body. "However, can we... get back to our business? I'm seriously starting to lose too much time on you."
Santana nods quickly, messing with her papers to find the schedule that she has carefully prepared.
"It's okay for you if we m-meet here after class?" She asks, settling her rimmed glasses, maybe slightly larger in proportion to her face. "In a couple of lessons w-we can recover the arguments for the test."
"I hope so. I might be able to stand a couple of lessons, now that I think about it ..." Brittany's blues fall back on her chest before she can control it and, really, how can she have not noticed before? She's got some perfectly round boobs. It's impossible not to notice. "Yes, I can stand anothercouple of lessons."
Santana lifts an eyebrow confused. What happened to I'm not going to spend a single minute with a loser like you or I do not want to hear your petulant voice?
She's psychologically ready to take the usual insults she gets from Brittany ... if it weren't for the fact that the blonde has just admitted out loud that she wants to take lessons with her.
"Seriously?" Santana asks, in fact, sure she didn't understand it.
"Seriously." Brittany confirms immediately, a little fascinated, wondering how Santana did not notice her gaze. She shakes her head and looks into her eyes. "But don't think that this means that I like this. It means that maybe, for two hours, I won't commit suicide. "
"Oh ..." Santana murmurs, it's certainly not the compliment that she expected but seems to be a good start, however, if compared to the torture she had imagined suffering from today onwards. "I promise that we will make it fast." She nods, returning that look for only a fraction of a second.
"I hope so for your good ..." Brittany murmurs immediately, trying to sound menacing and not turned on. "Because the longer we take, the worse my revenge is going to be." She looks her straight in the eye to clarify her message.
But despite everything, Santana doesn't feel the usual thrill of fear, doesn't catch the usual threats in her tone of voice.
"Of course," she says nodding, particularly bewildered. "You won't waste your time with a loser like me." She is so used to those kinds of words that it is easy even to say it out loud.
"Exactly." Brittany immediately confirms, nodding. "See, when you realize that you're not worth it, you can even say something interesting."
Her mind meanwhile, wanders through considerations and projects that can somehow include those gorgeous boobs.
Santana sighs sadly. For a few seconds she was really deluded that Brittany would be nice, or at least nearly so, to her ... but the chances of such a thing happening are equal to the hope of catching one of those legendary Pokémon on her Nintendo DS.
"So ... I'll see you t-tomorrow." She stands up, packing up her briefcase and carefully putting together all her notes. She separates her notebooks and books for each subject, opting to hand carry the ones for biology.
She is ready to leave when she notices Brittany's lessons calendar at her feet. She bends down again, under the focused gaze of the blonde, and picks it up. "It's important that you take this around with you, always," she explains, handing it to her.
Then she leaves without adding another word.
Brittany's eyes traced the perfect curves of her breasts one last time while she was turning. Not that that would make her a unique and interesting human being in her eyes, but at least it gives her a good reason to follow the lessons. One that has little to do with education, and more with a couple of hot air balloons.
She grins to herself as she watches the volleyball game in progress.
For some reasons, suddenly, these lessons seem a bit more interesting.
