bdell1:sharona2strong:tvuckic:scatterations:I think this is one of the times I have to agree with DG Lol lol lol well, I guess she told himWell, I don’t like her books that much, I liked the first two…but I can see why she is insulted. Thi…
Bless you Disney Crossover Criminals – guilty! For making me smile on this dark day I happy to aide & abet by encouraging you to practice your craft some more. Please!
I had no choice, really. If you missed it, here is part I.
The Teacher II
Claire hesitated in front of the door, the incrusted
bronze plate shining with the letters “Professor
Fraser”, beckoning her to dare and knock. She breathed deeply and raised
her fist to announce her presence.
“Yes?” A voice answered inside, in a lilt that
made her stomach explode in a frenzy of millions of bubbles. She half-opened
the door in order to peek inside, realizing that he was accompanied by a
student, sitting in front of him in what could only be called “the hot seat”. “Ah, it’s ye Miss
Beauchamp.”
“Sorry to disturb you, Professor Fraser.” She
said in a respectful tone, watching as her colleague – another Health Management
student – looked at her with a cry for help in his brown eyes – slightly hazed from
too much weed -, his shoulders slumped in mortal shame. “I have some questions
about the essay I still have to write for your class. I was wondering if I
could go over them with you, sir.”
James Fraser gave her an uninterested look –
which could clearly be interpreted as annoyance with her presence – and finally
nodded.
“I’ll be with you presently, Miss Beauchamp.”
He said dryly. ”As soon as Mister King here understands that copying a page
from Wikipedia is not acceptable as an essay. You do realize I have access to
the Internet, Mister King?” His eyebrows were raised above the rim of his black
eyeglasses, enhancing his disappointment at his student poorly conducted machinations.
“Yes, Professor Fraser.” The boy furiously
nodded, a sinner in repentance, his neck slowly disappearing between his
shoulders as he tried to bury himself away, escaping those piercing blue eyes. “I
am very sorry, sir.”
“I’m sure ye are.” The teacher gave him a lopsided
smile, neatly pilling the sheets of paper crossed out in red ink and pushing
them in his direction. “You have until tomorrow to deliver a corrected version
of this paper, Mister King. I’ll have to grade it for a maximum “B” after this mischief, but it’s certainly better than the
current “D” – from disaster.”
He pursed his lips and waited patiently as the
student collected his belongings and made the walk of shame towards the door of
his office. Claire could barely contain a smile as her colleague grimaced to
her, rolling his eyes in despair, his back turned to the punishing master.
“Come in, Miss Beauchamp.” Professor Fraser
urged her and, quickly patting Arthur King’s back in comfort, Claire moved
inside the office and closed the door behind her. “How can I help ye?” He asked
in a dark tone.
He looked serious and poised, his forearms
resting on the mahogany table in front of him. His office was clean and
discrete, fairly organized with stacks of paper and folders thoroughly aligned
and labelled. He had a shelf filled with books behind him, silently complaining
with copious overweight – Claire recognized titles from classic economy books
but also lots of poetry and historical tomes. Over the years – both in nursing
school and now as medical student –, she had been inside many teacher’s offices.
There was a tendency for hoarding and to accumulate trinkets and photographs,
as they spent so much time working inside them.
However, Jamie’s office spoke of order and contention, only a photograph
of himself with a dark haired woman – the same blue slanted eyes smiling to the
photographer, betraying their kinship – and a small statue of a leaping stag.
“I was wondering if you could explain me again
some concepts.” Claire said in strong voice, locking the door from the inside and
slowly moving towards his desk. “I’m not sure I’m truly enlighten about them –
in spite of our class yesterday.”
“Do ye now?” Jamie quirked a brow, his voice
low and dangerous. “I thought I was fairly clear.” He rose from his chair and
came around the desk, nearing her like a graceful predator.
“Some things benefit from repetition.” She
licked her lips and, smiling widely, sat on his desk – her floral dress hiking
up as she went, exposing her fair legs to his eyes, soft and creamy.
“Christ, Sassenach.”
His mask of tight control fell – exposing his raw edges underneath it. He
moaned and strode towards her in a heartbeat, placing himself between her
parted thighs, his mouth punishing hers for the teasing, his hands grasping her
curly hair. “I just had ye yesterday, but I want ye so much it hurts already.”
“I want you too.” She panted, as he touched her
breast with his strong palm, her nipple already painfully aware of his
proximity. “I couldn’t help myself – I had to come. I had to see you, to feel
you.”
“When I saw ye standing at my door, I almost
lost it.” He groaned, his hands brushing the soft skin inside her thighs, as he
kissed and suckled her neck. “And ye – wearing this dress, ye wicked little
vixen. I thought I’d throw ye into my desk and take ye, there and then, right in
front of Mister King.”
“You’re a very good actor.” She laughed, her
hands fumbling with the zipper of his pants. “I could swear you didn’t even
like me – least of all wanted to shag me in your office.” Claire yelped as he
kneeled in front of her and bit the sensitive skin, moist and heated from his
attentions.
“This is madness.” He nuzzled her, his hands
gripping her arse to bring her closer to him. “If we behave like uncontrolled
teenagers someone will find out. We need to stop seeing each other here.”
A month before they had started seeing each
other – meeting for dinner away from campus and taking long walks on secluded
parks and on the coastline, where they could hold hands and kiss, languid and carefree.
The underlying attraction had been there from the start, they were forced to
admit – and their mutual feelings had bloomed into full spring, nurtured by
hours of solitude and touches. At first the idea of sneaking around was fun and
certainly arousing – but soon enough the burden of pretending indifference had
become a permanent struggle and a source of unhappiness.
“You can stop.” Claire suggested teasingly, her
lips tasting the hollow of his throat – skilfully undoing the first buttons of
his shirt – the pulse of desire emanating from his skin. “I won’t force you, I
promise.”
“I canna refuse ye.” He said in a hoarse voice,
his accent made more evident by lust and strong emotion, as she struggled to
free him from the constraining underwear. “Not today – nor ever, mo ghraidh.”
He played her like a violin – robbing her lips
of moans and sobs that echoed in his heart like notes of the purest music, his
eyes fixed on the way her beautiful face almost shattered, so close to be
undone. Jamie touched her until his own body hurt – a desire so powerful it
bordered on excruciating pain -, finally ready to take her. As he adjusted his
body to hers, her head lulled back as she surrendered to the eminent joining, a
knock on the door sounded – menacing and real, like a sudden tear on active muscle.
Their eyes locked in terror for a moment, their
bodies almost fused together, their breathing ragged and superficial.
“Who is it?” Jamie questioned, struggling to
compose his voice. He kissed her swollen lips one final – desperate – time and
pulled her out of the desk, quickly helping her to adjust her clothes.
“Fraser?” The voice of Professor Raymond came
from outside. “I need to discuss with you the program for the summit. May I
come in?”
“Mallaichte
bas!” Jamie cursed, gritting his teeth. “Just a second!” He shouted through
the door, composing his own clothes and brushing his hair with trembling
fingers. Like two actors in a comical play, Claire launched herself into the
chair, searching for her best concentrated and slightly bored look, as Jamie
hurried to adjust the crumpled papers on his desk. When everything seemed to be
in natural order, they nodded to each other and Jamie opened the door with a
pleasant smile plastered on his lips.
“Ah.” The little man, with silver hair and dark
all-knowing eyes, noticed Claire sitting like a student in best possible behaviour.
“I hadn’t realize you were busy, James.”
“Miss Beauchamp and I were merely discussing
her last paper.” Jamie explained, adjusting his glasses. “She had already started
it before she transferred to your class.”
“No doubt.” Professor Raymond smiled, clearly
amused. His eyes drifted through the room – in spite of their best efforts,
Claire’s lips were clearly swollen and her hair even more unruly than usual.
Jamie, although composed, had the look of a man battling a cramp in the belly –
his eyes wild and fiery, his smile a bit too tense. “I’m sorry if I interrupted
your…work.”
“That’s alright, Professor.” Claire raised from
her chair and headed to the door, her neck still flushed. “I think I have
everything I need for now. Thank you, Professor Fraser. I’ll be sure to deliver
my complete work later.”
Both men stared as she waved and disappeared,
closing the door behind her.
“Your fly is open, James.” Raymond warned him
in an amiable tone and laughed like a content toad, to Jamie’s utter dismay.
****
“Have you asked for me, Professor Mackenzie?”
Jamie announced himself, standing on the threshold of Colum MacKenzie’s – the
dean of faculty – office.
“Ah, James – yes.” Colum’s calculative gaze
turned to Jamie, as he invited him to sit with a brief hand gesture. He was
silent for a while, studying Jamie’s cordial face, his hands entwined in
thoughtfulness. “I asked ye here because a pressing matter has been brought to
my attention.” He finally said, leaning back against his leather covered office
chair.
“How may I help?” Jamie furrowed his copper
brows.
“Ye can stop seeing Claire Beauchamp.” Colum
said in a cutting voice, which froze Jamie’s insides – was he fishing for the
truth, expecting him to confirm his suspicions; or did someone actually see him
with Claire? He was certain Raymond knew after their encounter in his office,
but was confident the man wouldn’t tell a soul due to their friendship.
“That is hardly possible.” Jamie smiled, trying
to look relaxed and uncompromised. “She attends this school and I am a teacher here.”
“I was wondering if I had to remind ye of that
exact fact.” Colum admonished, harshly. “Someone informed me that you have been
involved in some kind of affair with the lass. I couldna believe it. That a
teacher – my nephew, no less – would be sae foolish and careless.”
“Who told ye that?” Jamie gripped his fist,
hidden bellow the desk, barely containing the anger in his voice.
“It doesna matter.” Colum shook his head, his
eyes demanding and judgemental. “Will you deny it, Jamie?”
Jamie endured the assault of his eyes, his own
stormy and strong. Eventually, he sighed and shrugged.
“No, I won’t deny it. I’m in love with Claire
and I’m dating her.” He confessed, tilting his chin in defiance. Colum hissed
like a harassed animal and pursed his lips in discontent. “I’m a professor here
but she isna my student – we only got involved when she quit my class. Nothing
happened before!” Jamie guaranteed, tapping his fingers on his leg.
“I had hope the girl was lying.” Colum brushed
his thinning hair. “How could ye be sae stupid? How could ye overlook what
screwing the lass would mean to this school?”
“What we have,” Jamie hissed, adamant. “Is much
more than screwing, uncle. Claire is
the woman I waited for all my life. I won’t forsake her – not even for yer
precious reputation.”
“I see.” Colum breathed through his nose, like
a resentful cat. His eyes searched Jamie’s, as they battle their unwavering
wills. “In that case ye have a decision to make – let go of the lass or yer
days of teaching are numbered.” And with a magnanimous nod of the head, he dismissed
him. “Professor Fraser.”
Tori