“Haven’t you done enough?” she rounds on me. “First, that woman vandalising the house, calling me out as a whore—“ Her eyes are shimmering darkly at me with fierceness. “And now you’re going all nuclear with the discrimination thing against my school? Iam already in trouble, and my name and face are bloody everywhere in the media from Lands End to John O’Groats!”
Her voice echoes through the entrance hall and resounds quite loudly in my ears, but I let her. Some things need to be out before listening is possible. So, I don’t react any more than looking at her.
I believe it is refreshing to see her recognise her boundaries—something she much needs.
“How do you even know all this! Private letters and notices that were meant for me? How do you happen to infiltrate yourself into everything in my life?” she shouts in, without so much as gasping for air once. “Can’t you bloody stay away from me!”
“Miss Phillips,” I say, “You came here.”
“Stop Miss Phillips-ing me!” she roars. “You shouldn’t know about what they’re trying to charge me with. No one should! And yet some media outlets want bloody statements on why I decided to go after them with your bloody lawyer and the bloody EHRC and other associations I did not contact, accusing the school of discrimination!”
“Who contacted you and how?” I ask.
“Why the bloody hell does it matter!?” she shouts so loudly that at this point, the neighbours and everyone on the street outside might hear it.
“Because,” I say silently, “The more they harass you, the more they do to you, the more money we’ll sue out of them.”
“We!” she scoffs out with utmost disgust. “I don’t want the fucking money! You can take your fucking lawyers and fuck the bloody fuck off!”
She stands there, panting, with her chest heaving up and down, a force of nature. Red cheeks, sweat on her forehead, and angrily sparkling eyes.
My eyes wander to her slightly parted lips.
I should not.
I definitely should not.
And yet, I close the space between us, grasp her face and pull her into a feral kiss. She opens her mouth wider, and our lips and tongues meet in a wild embrace.
Her hands demand my body, and I let her. Let her hands massage my breasts, grasp me by the neck, consume me.
I let her, because I desire her.
I find myself pressed against the wall behind me, her thigh pushing between my legs. She rolls her hips against mine, and I cannot stop a smirk from appearing on my face.
“What?” she asks and stops the kiss.
We are both panting heavily, and I brush a strand of her messy hair out of her face and follow my movement with my eyes.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Phillips,” I say as I look back into her eyes. “The real one. The wild one. Messy one. Loud one. The one that takes up space.”
A grin curves her mouth.
“I did yell at you, didn’t I?” she asks with a chuckle.
“It makes you infinitely attractive,” I say. “Come with me.”
I guide her upstairs and into my pleasure room. She giggles when I push her inside.
“Undress,” I say and sit down in the armchair. “Slowly. You’re allowed to look at me.”
She lifts her pullover, pulls it off, slowly. She holds it for a moment and looks at me before it drops to the ground.
She’s wearing a tight top, showing off her hourglass figure. Next, she opens her trousers. Opens them, but does not slide them down.
Instead, she pulls the top over her head first, revealing her wonderful breasts to me.
The top falls to the ground.
