Against the fence

The lot was empty. The janitor's car was gone. I had locked my room, walked the long way, and texted two men from the band's list. Both over thirty. Both know the rule: never the school day, never anyone young, never inside, never a joke about my students. They want me. That's the whole cast.

I kept the cardigan. Skirt up, tights ripped at the thigh on purpose. The chain-link was cold through the wool. Say it, I told the first one. He said Miss. I laughed, too loud for a parking lot, and told him again, lower. He fucked me against the fence and said Miss every time I clenched. His friend watched with his hand in his jeans. A car went by on the road and didn't turn in. I wanted it to.

When they switched I was already gone, forehead on the metal. The second one spanked me while he fucked me, hard, the sound stupid in the open air. Miss is being loud, he said. I told him Miss was going to come, and I did, biting the sleeve so I wouldn't wake the street.

They came on the wool. I wore it to the car anyway and washed it in the sink at one in the morning like a criminal with a nice knit. Then I set out tomorrow's spelling list. Both things. I'm not interested in picking.