Okay, get it together, Isabelle. Be professional—he isn’t your teacher anymore; he’s your colleague. Time to channel everything I learnt at the club; confidence, control, slow my movements down, and breathe. Speaking of which, I'll need to reach out and find my kinky people again. Find myself a new club.
In my mentor and friend Victoria's own words; ‘Head up, tits out, and take control.’
As we settle down and pull out the induction papers, I feel a mix of trepidation and excitement. This was my dream, to teach, and now I'm finally here. But what if they hate me or I’m no good? What if I don't actually know what I'm doing?
Deep breath, Isabelle. You passed your course with excellent feedback. It’ll be ok.
James flicks through the papers and hands me a brightly coloured timetable. I'm still getting my head around calling him James instead of Sir or Mr. Wentworth. I like it, though. He's taking his time and explaining everything, just like he used to. I love how he makes me feel so at ease, so relaxed. His smile is beautiful and genuine, reaching eyes so deeply brown that it's like looking into pools of melted chocolate.
I've seen his eyes roam over me a couple of times so far. Each time is like electricity zapping through me. My stomach flips and other parts react too. It's so strange to
Alexandra Ravensbrook
see him as something other than my teacher, but he is a man. Like every other man, he has his sexual side, which intrigues me. How different is he in normal life from the teacher I got to know?
“Right, let’s get to it then, shall we?” He gathers our notes and walks to the door, his broad back to me, and I’m struck by how strong he looks. He was always well built, but he seems stockier now, and I like it. Time has been kind to him, and he has aged well. It’s only been a few years, but he’s clearly like a fine wine.
As I take my fill of his thick thighs and ass, he turns to face me, holding the door open. I whip my gaze up to meet his eyes.
His smile is small but knowing, and for the first time in a long time, I actually blush. Oh shit, busted. He caught me checking him out. Heat washes over my face as I fight to gain control of my reaction, desperate to stay professional. Touché, James! I’m not the only one to appreciate the scenery.
I straighten up and smile at him, meeting his gaze head-on. His smile turns shy as he gives his head a small shake and stands back with the door open, gesturing me through.
“Where first?” I ask, my voice stronger than I thought it would be.
Yes, Miss
“Music room first. I’ll show you the equipment and go through the plans for this year's music exams. It’s changed a little from when you did them.” He strides ahead, giving me the perfect opportunity to watch his muscular ass flex as he moves.
By the end of the day, my mind is overloaded with information—logins for different software, multiple exam timetables, and tons of pupil information.
I stand there, trying in vain to log into the electronic whiteboard system when I hear the familiar tinkling of the piano keys. The beginning of Debussy’s ‘Arabesque’ takes form, and I slowly turn around to see James sitting at the piano, grinning at me.
“You think you can still play this, or did you block it out after the exam?” He laughs, and I’m taken aback that he remembers how much I grew to despise the piece.
I approach the piano and take a seat on the stool next to him, his soft citrus and amber scent envelopes me in memories and nostalgia, with the heat from his body warming mine. My body relaxes with the remembered sense of safety and belonging, yet my insides churn with soft butterflies, catching me off guard.
Suddenly I’m back there with my schoolgirl crush, only now it’s so much more visceral and consuming. Seriously, Isabelle, get a fucking grip, woman! It’s your first day. There is to be no shagging colleagues.
Alexandra Ravensbrook
I start to play alongside him, our hands drifting over the keys in a synchronicity borne from familiarity. His left hand crosses over my right, bringing us together, and I notice the slightly paler band of skin on his left hand where a wedding ring once belonged. A small thrill shoots through me, followed by a scolding voice telling me to stop thinking of him like this. How can I be happy he went through a divorce or loss? Am I really that shallow?
I close my eyes and get lost in the music, casting all my thoughts aside. As the final note fades away to silence, I open my eyes to see James watching me, his eyes dark and fixed on mine, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“Beautiful...” he whispers. Clearing his throat, he adds, “The way you play... You still play beautifully.”
Wiping his hands down his thighs, he quickly rises
from the piano stool.
“I’ll walk you to your car. You must be exhausted after your first day.” He holds out his hand to me, and I take it. His fingertips wrap around mine, his grip firm yet gentle, and a small shiver runs up my arm at the contact. Our eyes hold each other’s gaze as I rise from the piano stool until he looks down, a blush dusting his cheeks.
Mr. Wentworth, this big, broad man—my teenage crush and manager—is blushing. And it is too cute to ignore. An urge to stroke his blooming cheek crosses my mind, and the absurdity of the situation amuses me.
Yes, Miss
“Thank you, but I’ll find my way,” I reply softly.
