She rubbed herself over her clothing until she could feel the dampness of her arousal through the fabric. A needy ache had built in her core, and she was breathing faster now. She’d forgotten how good this felt, and now she wanted it to last forever. At the same time, she was already impatient for release, becausegood lord, it had been a while.
Emboldened, she sat up and began unbuttoning her blouse, sighing with pleasure as the silky fabric slipped from her shoulders to land on the duvet. She moved it aside, then transferred her attention to her trousers, unfastening the button and pushing down the zipper.
She shimmied out of them, then lay back on the bed, teasing herself over her underwear, which was already wetter than she’d anticipated. She closed her eyes, imagining someone else’s hands on her body, a lover she refused to look at, afraid to know what face her imagination might conjure.
She didn’t want to fantasize about her ex-wife, but who else was there? In her mind’s eye, she saw a hand with neatly trimmed, unpainted nails skimming across her stomach, a turquoise ring on the middle finger. Kelly’s nails hadalwaysbeen painted, and she hated turquoise.
Relieved, Michelle surrendered to the fantasy. She slid out of her bra and underwear, one hand caressing her breasts while the other slipped between her thighs. She let out a little whimper as her indexfinger found and circled her clit, shocking her with a jolt of arousal.Yes.Oh, she’d needed this.
In her fantasy, honey-brown hair cascaded over her chest as her lover focused on Michelle’s breasts. Rose-petal-pink lips brushed against her skin.More,Michelle begged silently. She craved the feel of a warm body on hers, a hot tongue pressed against her clit. She imagined her fantasy woman burying her head between Michelle’s thighs.
Just the thought made her throb. Michelle rubbed harder, eager to get herself over the finish line before the fantasy faded. Her fingers felt good, but they weren’t quite enough. They almost never were. After stroking herself for what felt like an eternity, she started to get frustrated. She was no closer to coming, and her wrist had started to hurt.
With a sigh, she paused to give herself a breather. Her core ached for release, making her impatient. And then she remembered the present she’d bought herself after the divorce, the vibrator still in its packaging in the drawer beside her bed.Perfect.
Relieved, she sat up and slid to the edge of the bed, hissing a little at the way the duvet rubbed against her sensitive flesh. She retrieved the plum-colored box. The packaging boasted that the device had arrived fully charged and ready for use. Eagerly, she opened the box and pulled out the black bullet-shaped item inside.
It was softer than she’d expected, almost like skin. Her clit throbbed in anticipation. She pressed the little button on the base, and ... nothing happened. She pressed again, harder. Still nothing. Michelle bit back a groan of frustration. Perhaps it had arrived charged, but after leaving it in her drawer for a year, the battery had gone dead.
Undeterred, she plugged it in using the included cord, then watched as a little red light began to flash, letting her know it was charging. Then she put on a robe and went into the kitchen to refill her drink, wondering how long she’d have to wait. Hopefully not long, if her aching clit had any say in the matter.
Michelle leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping whisky as her mind wandered back to the party. Audrey had looked so beautiful inthat wine-colored dress. It brought out the golden undertones in her brown hair. She’d seemed as enthralled by their conversation as Michelle had been, blue eyes dancing as she waxed poetic about her favorite female impressionist painters.
She’d listened with rapt attention as Michelle shared her own favorites, Louise Catherine Breslau and Eva Gonzalès in particular. Kelly had told her so many times that no one wanted to hear her carry on about dead painters, and it had seemed true. Her students certainly didn’t. Her wife hadn’t. No one in the department wanted to talk to her about anything at all, except Marcus on occasion, but he usually just wanted someone to share his frustrations with.
But Audrey . . .
Michelle swallowed more whisky, tipping her head back as she relived some of the finer points of their conversation. Oh, it had been a good one. Invigorating. She would have to find an excuse to talk to Audrey again. She also wanted to get a closer look at the paintings and ceramics in Audrey’s office. She wanted to know where they’d all come from, who’d created them, and which of them were Audrey’s own works.
Maybe she’d be able to catch Audrey between classes on Monday. Actually, Audrey had gotten her thinking about her Eliza St. Claire research again. Michelle knew so much more about the woman than the average person did. She could write a whole book about her. In fact, she’d been wanting to do just that, and maybe this was the perfect time to start. After all, she had the whole weekend ahead of her, completely devoid of plans.
In the meantime, she was still restless and aroused. How long had she been standing in the kitchen? Surely fifteen minutes, at least. Could the vibrator have charged that quickly? She hurried to her bedroom, only to discover that the light was still flashing. Michelle slipped a hand inside her robe, wondering if she should try again with her fingers. She hissed as she made contact with her hypersensitive clit.
Wait.Her shower had a detachable showerhead! Surely that would get the job done. Impatient now, she shed her robe and went into the bathroom to turn on the shower.
She wet herself under the spray, then removed the showerhead from its bracket. First, she checked that the temperature wasn’t too hot. No need to scald herself in unfortunate places. She aimed the water first against her breasts, teasing her nipples into hardened peaks. It felt so good, almost as good as her imaginary lover.
Inhaling sharply with anticipation, she directed the spray between her legs. An involuntary moan escaped her lips as the hot water massaged her clit. God, it was perfect. Bracing one hand against the wall of the shower for balance, she used the other to work the cascade of water over herself in a rhythmic pattern, rocking her hips into the spray.
Her core clenched as the pressure inside her built. Again, she succumbed to fantasy, imagining that the mysterious woman with honey-colored hair had buried her head between Michelle’s legs, bringing her ever closer to her release.
Please,Michelle begged wordlessly.I can’t wait any longer.
Her hips bucked, and she brought the showerhead closer to herself, subtly increasing the pressure of the spray. Her body tensed as she reached her breaking point, and for several agonizingly blissful seconds, she hung on the precipice, hips grinding against the stream of water as she waited desperately to tumble over the edge.
And then she was coming, nonsense spilling from her lips as waves of pleasure rolled out from her core. She gasped and shook, reveling in every moment. When it was over, her knees gave out, and she slid down to sit on the tiles, more relaxed than she’d felt in months.
On Thursdays, Audrey finished teaching by three. She could leave early if she wanted to, but today, she had a rather unorthodox idea for how to spend the rest of her afternoon. Michelle was currently in the middleof teaching her introductory art history class, and Audrey couldn’t resist the temptation to sneak in and observe for a little bit.
She wanted to see her former professor in action. They seemed to have turned a corner last week, after the committee meeting and then again at Stuart’s party. She and Michelle had sat together, sipping drinks and talking about art forhours, and it had been one of the most intellectually stimulating conversations of Audrey’s life.
It had also been frustrating, because as she watched Michelle get all starry-eyed talking about Louise Catherine Breslau’s impressionist paintings, Audrey could no longer deny that her crush was still alive and well. Worse, this had the potential to become more than a student’s silly infatuation with a teacher. They were peers now. Audrey actually knew Michelle, and she liked her a hell of a lot.
But she still couldn’t date her ... not that Michelle had ever seemed interested in Audrey that way, not now and certainly not when Audrey had been her student. But while dating a coworker likely wouldn’t be a problem for a tenured professor like Michelle, it wasn’t a smart career move for Audrey.
She needed to prove that she deserved a permanent position here, and sleeping with another professor in the department wasnotthe way to make that point. She’d always been more focused on her career than her love life, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
So she would force this crush to the back of her mind while she pursued a friendship with Michelle instead. Maybe, if they spent more time together, Audrey would find out how the passionate teacher she’d known in her youth had become the bitter woman she’d found upon her return. As they’d chatted at Stuart’s party on Friday, Audrey had seen glimpses of the old Michelle. Her enthusiasm for female artists was still there, so why was it hiding these days?
