Private Tutor by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub

Matthew

Matthew pedaled his bike down the quiet streets to Kate's house. He had to force himself not to go too quickly, fighting the urge to sprint there as fast as he could.

I need these last few minutes to steady my mind.

Matthew ran through dates and names and and other obscure facts as he pedaled. The last six days had been a blur of studying. After leaving Kate the last time, Matthew had locked himself in his dorm room and done nothing but run through the flash cards that Kate had given to him. Emerging only to eat, use the bathroom, or get a light jog in, Matthew had spent hours lying on his narrow dorm bed, the stack of cards resting on his chest.

There were almost two hundred cards in the stack. At first, Matthew had despaired at the mountain of facts he was going to have to memorize. There was just too much of it, too many random bits that he could not even organize into a coherent mental picture, let alone commit to memory. Staring at the stack that first day, Matthew was sure he was going to fail.

Not just the exam. Kate, too.

The memory of Kate's naked body is what drove Matthew to push on with the flashcards. He pictured how heavy her breasts were, how thick and red her nipples were. He remembered the drops of wetness that had glistened in her dark pubic hair, evidence that her pussy was ready for him.

Every time he faltered, every time he wanted to just toss the cards in the air and watch TV, Matthew remembered what he had seen at Kate's house. Every time Matthew wanted to quit, he remembered her promise to him.

You get to fuck me.

After that first night of despair, Matthew tackled the flashcards head on. He applied the advice that Kate had given him before, to treat the flashcards like plays in his playbook. Kate had already broken down the cards into colored sets:

Pink cards were dates.

White cards were Union and Confederate leaders.

Blue cards were battle maneuvers.

Yellow cards were everything else.

Matthew treated the cards like play sets. He started with the dates, imagining they were pass blocking schemes. The white cards were run blocking schemes. The blue cards, which were the most complex, Matthew treated as passing routes. The yellow cards, by far the most numerous and diverse, he treated as scramble plays, plays that told him where to go when everything else broke down.

"I can do this," he'd said to himself as he assembled his new "playbook."

For the first few days, Matthew's head felt like it was about to explode. Gradually, though, things began to slot into place. Facts connected with other facts and a coherent picture began to take shape in his mind.

It was like his senior year on the high school team. After years of playing football, Matthew could finally see things as a whole, knowing how his part fit into the entire scheme of things. The game slowed down for

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