J picked at the label on his 7th, no 8th, beer. He had a bit of a buzz going but it was nowhere near enough to get rid of the churning in his stomach. He had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. His mood was about as black as it could get.

He couldn't stand being around Smurf any more. Coming into bathroom when he was showering was bad enough but that morning she had tried to... He felt sick just thinking about it. No wonder his mother had turned into a junkie and his uncles were all different colors of fucked up. He'd lit out with nothing more than the walking around money that he had in his jeans' pocket. Enough for a motel for the night or to get him wasted. Getting wasted had won without a fight but he wished to god that he had taken the time to grab his wallet from the kitchen counter.

He had 50 bucks left. This was definitely the time for spirits. If nothing else, they would make him not care about crashing in his car. Hopefully it would also help him not care about how messed up his life was. Right now, he just needed to get the barman's attention. Sadly, he knew that this could take a while. The skeezy hipster prick was more interested in hitting on chicks than serving drinks.

Nobody knew him this far along the coast. The name Cody still carried weight here, but J was too new on the scene to be recognized as one of them without making a thing of it. So, while it meant he could stay off his family's radar, it also meant that he came way lower down the barman's list of priorities than whatever woman he was currently trying to talk in to bed.

This time was no exception. J knew that he should move on to another bar but even that seemed too much effort in his current mood, and this anonymous tourist place suited him. After a few frustrating minutes he gave up on trying to get service and started to watch the woman barman was talking to instead. And she was definitely a woman, not a girl. Mid 20s, with dyed red hair swept up into some kind of fancy knot on the top of her head, she didn't have the same lithe body as Nicky or Mia, or even the ex-junkie leanness of his old teacher. But if her ass was not as pert as the ones he was used to, and her legs and waist were chunkier than he preferred, she made up for it with a rack of epic proportions. He could see it jiggling enticingly beneath her vest top every time the barman made her laugh.

Fuck scotch, he thought with a maudlin sigh. If he could just snuggle up against her he'd be set for the night. He shifted in his seat to make room for his burgeoning erection and was so distracted that he knocked the remains of his last beer flying. The sound of shattering glass coinciding precisely with a break in the music.

'Fuck it!'

All eyes in the place were on him now. Oh, very fucking smooth, he thought, and his face burned with embarrassment. The barman said something to the red head and she laughed again. He could feel her eyes on him. Man, he hated that fucking barman, but at least the rush of blood to his face had made the swelling in his dick subside. He didn't want her to think he was a pervert as well as an idiot.

As the barman began to clean up the spilled beer and shards of broken bottle, Michael shifted along the bar to a clean spot. To his surprise, the woman took this as an opportunity to start talking to him.

'You look like you're having the same kind of day as me.' Her accent was odd. Not local for sure. She smiled crookedly at him and sidled closer, hips swaying invitingly.

J turned to face her and relaxed back against the bar. He considered at her appraisingly, not bothering to hide the direction of his gaze. She was older than he'd first though. Early 30s at least. Fine lines appeared in her delicate skin when she smiled. Nevertheless, her eyes were kind and compassionate. She might have been laughing but he could tell that it hadn't been at him. He wanted desperately to fall into her arms and ask her to take care of him.

'I've had better.' Despite his best efforts, he sounded like a sulky child.

'Have a drink with me then.' She smiled again and popped the remains of a bottle of scotch on the bar. 'Maybe that will turn things around for both of us.' Gesturing to the barman, she said. 'Hey mate, could you bring us another glass?'

A moment later the barman slammed a shot glass down next to J, pissed at being usurped. J smirked. Things were looking up already.

'How old are you, kid?' The woman asked quietly as she poured then both a glass.

J bridled. 'I'm not a kid. I'm 22.'

She laughed and moved nearer. They were so close now that could almost feel the heat of her body through his shirt. 'I asked you how old you were, not what it says on your fake ID.'

'20.' He stood up a little taller and ran his fingers through his hair so that there was no way she could fail to note the breadth of his shoulders or the fine muscling in his arms and chest.

'Well they certainly grow them pretty round here', she said pertly. She took a step back and looked him up and down as if she was giving him marks out of ten. Meeting his eyes unashamedly, she poured them both another drink and passed one to him, her fingers resting lightly on the back of his hand as she did so. 'Must be all the sunshine and fresh sea air.'

J's dick responded by trying to make another break for freedom.

He wasn't sure who suggested it but 30 minutes later they were walking out of the bar arm in arm with a fresh bottle of scotch. The woman, Lissa, appeared to have a stomach made of lead because she was walking and talking like she hadn't touched a drop. Prizing the car keys out of his hands she drove the six blocks to the motel where she was staying.

They barely managed inside the room before they were on each other. Lissa pushed J back against the door so roughly that his head bounced off the cheap laminate; the unopened bottle of scotch dropped to the floor and rolled off under the dresser where it lay forgotten. They kissed frantically as they ground against one another. The last few neurons firing in J's brain were thanking the gods for his good luck. Despite the booze he'd consumed his dick was already hard enough to smash through concrete.

Abruptly, Lissa backed away leaving J gasping with frustration. With a lopsided grin that he was rapidly growing to love, she took hold of the front of his shirt with both hands and ripped it open. Buttons popped, and fabric ripped, but J couldn't even begin to give a damn. And when Lissa sank to her knees in front of him and unzipped his flies, he thought that all his Christmases had come at once. But that was nothing to the feeling of being in her mouth.

Nicky always sucked him off like a girl trying to deep throat a lollypop – all happy licks and awkward gagging. Mia, on the other hand, had made it clear from the first that giving head was something that only whores did. Lissa was something else entirely. Her eyes were locked on his, and she gave every sign that she enjoyed having him in her mouth. If it wasn't for the booze, he would have come the first time her tongue laved around the head of his dick. As it was he was hard pressed to last longer than a couple of minutes. In the end the feel of her hand cupping his balls was enough to tip him over the edge. He tried to restrain himself, but his hands knotted roughly in her hair and he couldn't hold back a couple of hip thrusts as he came. Concerned that he'd hurt her, he gently stroked her cheek as he pulled out of her mouth but Lissa appeared unperturbed.

Hypnotized, J watched her swallow and then lick the last drop of come from the head of his dick. 'Let's go to bed, pretty boy', she said happily. 'Now I've taken the edge off, you can show me just how grateful you are.'

J couldn't have resisted her, even if he'd wanted to.

Later when then were laying together sweaty and exhausted, he found himself pouring his heart out to her; his mum, the family business, even goddam Smurf and her weird looks and inappropriate touching. Eventually she gathered him up in her arms and rocked him against her. She stroked his back and murmured inconsequential endearments into his hair. Physically and emotionally spent he eventually drifted off to sleep.

J woke at daybreak with a pounding head, a sour taste in his mouth, and a burning need to urinate. He hoped that the motel had complimentary toiletries because he was fairly sure that he smelt like he'd just come off a three-day bender. Trying not to wake Lissa, he wriggled to the edge of the bed and slipped out from between the sheets.

'Where the fuck do you think you're going?', Lissa said, instantly awake, grabbing his wrist to prevent him moving.

J looked down at her, face unreadable. She wasn't so pretty in the harsh morning light but when she quirked her lips into a smile he felt his dick react. Playing it cool, he shrugged. 'Shower.'

'Oh hell no. Last night you were desperate to get into my bed but you never did quite manage to make it worth my while.'

'What do you mean?' He was sure he remembered her being plenty appreciative the night before.

She snorted. 'I'm not some silly teenager who's so happy that the boy with the puppy dog eyes has paid her some attention that she only wants to please him. When I'm with a man I expect to get my rocks off.' Her smile and the unspoken promise in her eyes took the sting from her words. 'You've got five minutes to get your sexy ass in order and then I'm dragging you back to bed so you can make good on your promise from last night.'

J suddenly found that he was feeling much, much better.

'Stay in bed, honey. I'm just off to get us some breakfast.' Lissa pulled her vest top over her head and checked her reflection in the mirror, pouting slightly to check her lipstick was applied correctly. 'There's a diner just down the road. What do you want?'

'Pancakes?' Watching the swell of her breasts as turned to face him, remembering what it felt like to take one of her plump nipples between his teeth, J found that he didn't really care what she brought back.

'Good choice. Give me 20 minutes.'

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Lissa spun on her heels and sashayed out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her. Once she was safely gone, Jay laid back in the bed, head resting in his cupped hands. He felt better than he had done in ages and he ached in all the right places. He hoped she wouldn't be too long getting breakfast because he really wanted to fuck her again. To show her that he had paid attention to everything she'd taught him that morning. Just the thought of it, of her, made him rock hard again.

He realised that if he didn't take care of himself while she was out he'd come the minute he touched her, and he wanted to make it last. Dragging himself off the bed he made his way to the bathroom, his throbbing cock leading the way.

On the vanity mirror, outlined in lipstick, it said Check the drawer in the nightstand.

Confused he went back to the bedroom. In the drawer he found a note written on motel stationery.

Kid, it's going to take more than one night for me to teach you everything you need to know. Call me when you're ready for your second lesson. Her number was scrawled beneath it. Then it said PS. Thanks for the ride.

He stared at the note for a moment in confusion, then, in dawning comprehension, he went to the window. When he pulled back the curtain, he was not even slightly surprised to see that his car was missing from the motel parking lot. Going through his things, he soon realised she had taken not only his keys, but his phone, his watch, and his last $50. There was no help for it - he would have to go crawling back to his family.

But despite it all he couldn't help smiling to himself. Fuck – that that had been some night.

J never seems to get much love on these forums but hopefully this will find some fans. There are more lessons to come if anyone is interested. :-)

Thanks to the person who spotted the erroneous reference to Michael in this footnote. I was watching Peaky Blinders whilst I was writing!