“Santa merda,holy shit!” Lucca says, looking over my shoulder.
“I’m guessing this means you didn’t know about this?” I snarl.
“Tatiana wouldn’t tell me, I did ask,” he says apologetically. “But technically, she’s not disrespecting your connection by bringing a friend to the party.”
“Technically,” I said, jaw clenching as I try to control myself. I’m not angry. I’m so turned on that it’s painful. My cock is already rubbing uncomfortably against my zipper and as Mariya spins a giggling Mala again, I’m pretty sure it’s going to break through my tuxedo pants.
“Are you angry?” Tatiana says a little aggressively, “Because you shouldn’t be.”
Lucca slides his arm around her shoulders protectively as I turn to them, but I force a smile. “No. I’m not. She had every right. I do intend to see if she'll spare me a dance.”
Tati impulsively lifts on her toes and kisses me on the cheek. “You’re redeeming yourself, Konstantin.” She winks as Lucca leads her out on the floor and I put my hands in my tux pockets, discreetly adjusting my stubborn erection.
I’ve seen it before in endless bars and multiple mating strategies; girls seductively dancing with each other, talking loudly, flicking hair, and sending meaningful stares. Hell, I’ve even taken the bait a couple of times. Mariya and Mala aren’t playing that game. They’re having fun, swinging back and forth, winding around other dancers, but it’s not seductive. At least until I see Mala glance in the far corner where some of the faculty are clustered and she moves closer to Mariya, sliding an arm around her waist. Scanning the group, I try to figure out who she’s looking at.
Ah. Professor MacTavish. He’s wearing his usual dark and brooding expression, and he’s gulping back a glass of what I’m guessing is top-shelf Macallan Scotch as he watches them. This is dangerous. Relationships between students and faculty are strictly forbidden, to the point that Dean Christie might be tempted to intervene. I heard that she used a pitchfork on a professor’s hand once after he’d touched a student.
Wading through the dancers, I give the girls an elaborate bow. “You are both looking exceptionally beautiful tonight.” Leaning in closer, I murmur just over the music, “You’re playing a dangerous game, Mala. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Mariya looks a little surprised. “Why? There’s no harm in dancing.”
“It depends on who you’re dancing for,” I said, taking both their hands, spinning them out and back in again. “I’m not here to cut in. I’m just concerned.”
Mala forces a smile. “It’s okay. I need to freshen up anyway. I suppose you’d like a dance with my date?”
Laughing, I kiss her hand. “If it’s acceptable to you both.”
Mariya pretends to consider it. “I suppose. While my date is in the ladies' room.”
My hand settles on her silk-clad hip and my fingers tighten, just a bit. “You look beautiful.”
Sliding her hands over my shoulders, she smiles slyly. “So do you. It’s really quite unfair that you look this good all dressed up.”
Pulling her closer, I take a deep breath; her perfume, her warmth, the peppermint scent of her shampoo…Bozhe moy, my god, this woman is addictive.
“What did you mean earlier,” she asks, “what you were saying to Mala?”
“It looked like she and Professor MacTavish were eyeing each other pretty intensely,” I said. “If they’re seeing each other, the Dean is going to pull out her power drill.”
“I don’t think…” Mariya looks alarmed, glancing over to where MacTavish had been standing. He’s gone. “You don’t think they would do something like that, do you? We should- well, we definitely need to do something.”
Taking her hand, I head for the balcony doors. “Let’s see if we can find them.” She’s shivering as soon as the night air hits us, and I take off my jacket, wrapping it around her.
“Would they go to his apartment in the faculty building?” she says worriedly, “no, that would be suicidal. The Armory?”
“Good idea,” I agree, taking off in that direction.
“Wait, hold up!” she says, “You’re pulling me along like luggage.”
“You’re right.” Stopping, I get a look at her high heels. They make her legs look amazing. They’re also wildly impractical on an icy pathway. I lean over slightly. “Hop on.”
“Wait, you want to give me a piggyback ride?” Mariya’s giggling helplessly.
“Yes. So get moving.” I slap her ass, enjoying her startled squeal, but she hops onto my back, wrapping her legs around my hips.
“Giddy up!”
Smacking her ass again, I head toward the Armory building in a half-jog. The building is locked and dark when we get there. I circle it twice, checking for a light. “They might not have met up at all,” I said.
