The School Grounds

His stroll was casual as he moved among the shops, browsing by way of window shopping. He had a couple destinations already in mind, places he'd seen things previously that had struck his fancy, but it couldn't hurt to look around a bit again as well. Why unnecessarily limit your options?

The first shop he ducked into was close, but... not quite there. He would keep it in mind, and in no small part because the shop keeper had been a rather friendly older lady who also did not hesitate to recommend a place he try out.

And so he was off to the newly recommended place, one he had not seen or heard of, hopeful that they might have what he was looking for. And there it was, just inside the door. He smiled, distracted, as the shopkeeper greeted him and then, much to her credit, quickly fell quiet upon recognizing the look in his eyes. No doubt one she'd seen many times before.

It was, all told, fifteen minutes from the moment he entered to the time he left, the transaction quick and friendly. And he was sure to let her know who had recommended the place to him, so that some business might be sent back her way. Karma and all that.

Back out into the sunshine, and his mind turned over to a new list of stores, new items that needed to be acquired. His strides were casual as before, his demeanor calm and unhurried. In reality, the only thing about him that had changed was the large box he now carried under his arm.
 
The numbers on the page swam as her language teacher danced around her. Not for one second was Vivi unaware of where the brunette was, even if she never looked up, or awknowledged a single whispered move or word.

"Very well, Miss Vivi.... I never said I wasn't yours...I just didn't admit to it..."

The voice was close, and Vi looked down out of the corner of her eye to catch the pink lips that were a whisper from her ear.

Wait, Vivi. Wait.

Her nails sunk a little into the leather of the chair.

"Because we both know whose I am. What I am."

A nibble, a lingering kiss, then the mouth was gone, and Vivi's nails were embedded into the leather.

Wait.

Silently, quickly and on now bare feet was the gorgeous brunette on her knees before her. Tiny little kisses to placate the redhead, to confirm a submission.

"...and I believe you wanted me to elucidate...? It will be my pleasure..."

Their eyes met, Vivi could swim in those eyes. She could and has drowned in them. Drowned in their depths.

Patience

"I'm unbelievably wet, Miss Vivi...and you've done that...you always do that..."

A kiss, a turn, a perfect picture of painful obeisance in a pretty pout. Vivi...hung on. Froze. Waited. Wanted to act, to take, to own, to conquer and demand.

"I'm on my knees for you, and you know I'll do anything for you..."
Their eyes met again.
Lingering, knowing that the next words would seal their fate, their roles, their wants.
"Which brings me back to my original question...what will you do for me...?"

Whimper

Vivi breathed in the need of the one who knelt. Heard what she wanted. Knew that she'd get it. But not until she begged for it.

The nails that had sunk into the supple leather of the seat were pulled free and that hand moved swiftly through the air.

It caught that beautiful impertinent cheek quickly, the sound of the slap ringing clearly through the room.

The shock and gasp was audible.

Vivi slid forward and grasped a chin in her hand, once more meeting those eye with her own. Her voice was low, challenging.

"You'll get nothing until you beg for it. So beg my pretty. Show me how badly you want it."
 
The slap was sudden. Her face was turned slightly to the side with the force, a ripple shivering through brunette lengths. Cheekbone popping with discomfort, forcing a gasp from her wide open mouth. It was a harsh strike, but Brit knew if she'd wanted to, Vi could have swung much harder.
That was a warning of sorts. A reminder. Of just where she was...and what she was...whose...

Delicate fingers took hold of her chin and manipulated the position of her head until their eyes met once more.

"You'll get nothing until you beg for it. So beg my pretty. Show me how badly you want it."
Brit swallowed, cheek still stinging a little, certain it was considerably pinker than it's counterpart.
And she wanted it. She wanted it badly. Very badly.

A slight twist of head and pink lips were pressed to the junction of Vivi's thumb and index finger, the hand holding her chin. Another slightly twist and lips kissed her index finger and then higher until they captured the fingertip, drawing it into her mouth and sucking gently. Eyes never moving from hers. Tongue stroking the digit, fondling it. Mind already repeating that action on several parts of the redhead's anatomy. This suckling continued for a few minutes before Brit felt it was time to do as she had been told.

Time to beg.

She shuffled on her knees slightly, making herself that little bit lower, that little bit meeker in appearance.

"Please Miss..." Hands held hers gently, turning it to let her kiss the palm, then again a little higher to press her lips to the pulse point at her wrist. "Please give it to me..."

She rose a fraction on her knees as her lips travelled up the inside of forearm.
She didn't stop when clothing got in the way, lips passing over elbow to upper arm. Kneeling up to allow her to reach her shoulder and then a soft sigh as lips found skin once more and kissed the place where her shoulder became her neck.
"Please give me what I want...what I need..."

Another kiss, a little higher, to the side of her neck. Then again, a new pulse point now.
"Because you know what I need. Perhaps better than anybody."
Jawline now.
Close, so close, to what she wanted.
"Please Miss...please give it to me..."
Cheek.
"Please..." A whine now as lips almost met lips.
Almost.
"...please..." She whimpered, her mouth hovering a fraction of an inch from Vivi's.

Waiting.

Hoping.
 
Those pretty lips dripped begging words like a leaky facet, placing pleading, pleasing tiny kisses up Vi's arm, her neck, her jaw and finally a breath away from Vi's lips.

She wanted to tilt her head and press her own lips to them, to soak in every single word that had trickled from her employees lips. To breathe her in, to curl her fingers around a soft cheek and even softer hair, to pull their bodies close, pressing their chests together, to feel the weight of her breast in Vi's hand, to curl her tongue around a needy, aching, nipple, to expose this teacher on her desk, to keep her there until Vi was done. Till she had eaten her fill, till those begging words were a sheen on her lips.

Vi didn't. She didn't move. She regarded the woman with a sharp eye, her right eyebrow raised in curiosity.

A moment of calculated hesitation. Did she let the woman kiss her, or take more. Had Ms. Brit learned her lesson or was a harsher hand required? Such was the work of the headmistress, never truly done, with her students or her wayward and difficult staff.

Without thinking, without inclination, her hand was back into her hair, sunk back into those brunette tresses, pulling that beautiful pink pout away from her. She knew it was right, but she wanted to give into that kiss.

Lose herself in those arms.

The lips and the moment was gone.
Miss Vivi reasserted herself.
Straightened her spine.
And pulled her teacher by the hair away from her.

Breathe. Pull. Grin.

"I said beg. I didn't say touch. Care to try again? Or shall we just bend you over my desk now, Ms. Brit?"

Hazel eyes idly watched those blue eyes, thrilling at the pain in them, at the lust and the need that almost seemed to over flow. Vi leaned forward and put one finger under the pretty chin.

"My sweet, go bend over the table with your skirt up. Show me how good you can be."
 
Brit whined as she was slowly but firmly pulled back. Her place in proceedings confirmed without a single word being uttered. She might have entered the office with thoughts of her own needs and wants, but now...it was about the needs and wants of the one who held her.

Who always held her, in truth.

"I said beg. I didn't say touch. Care to try again? Or shall we just bend you over my desk now, Ms. Brit?"

Brit chided herself a little. So bloody eager to please, she'd skipped over that little point. This happened all too often, especially when she started letting that needy little, subservient, bit of her brain take charge.

"My sweet, go bend over the table with your skirt up. Show me how good you can be."

Her jaw tightened for a split second, a fleeting and uncharacteristic urge to refuse flitting through her veins. It was soon gone and with a quiet nod she agreed. It was what they both knew she would do.

Brit liked to be good, loved it truth be told. She strove to be the best she could be, wanted to give all that she could. To her students, to her friends. But especially to her.

"Yes Miss Vivi..." There was a small nod. An acceptance. And she rose smoothly onto bare feet. Moving to stand in front of the table. A breath was taken in as fingers took hold of her skirt and held as she eased it up over her still pinkened rear. Letting it out only when the skirt was resting uselessly above the curve of her behind.

Another deep breath. And a bend at the waist and she obeyed.
As Vi knew she would. As Brit knew she would.

In truth, she could have just come in and done this to begin with. But where would the fun in that have been?
 
Just like that Brit was over the table and ready for her. Sometimes it's good to be the boss. Vi had time. Brit would wait.

Into the bathroom she went dropping her skirt and pulling open a drawer she withdrew her favorite toy, a strap on. Useful and simple, it was pure in purpose, just like the organ it mimicked. Only this one was double sided.

So they'd both end up filled and fucked.
How many men could do that at once?
Exactly.

The strapon was pulled up and inserted with a little lube and a soft sigh. She left her bra on, but left her shoes and shirt discarded on the floor, before padding out to her office where Ms. Brit waited.

She wasted no time in placing herself behind the woman and sliding panties out of the way. But she paused before pushing forward.

"Yes or no, Ms. Brit?"
 
Brit waited. Patiently. Obediently, although nothing specific had been said.
She wondered what would follow, knowing the redhead was no longer in the room. Hearing strange noises, rifling through objects, the rustle of fabric.

Was it going to be pleasure or pain? Punishment for her outspokenness earlier or reward for later good repentant behaviour?

She waited, laid on her employers desk. Not a question or a murmur of any kind passing her lips.

Then came the shuffle of feet on the floor and she felt a presence behind her. The nudge of something firm against the back of her thigh. Underwear was moved, repositioned. She was prepared.

"Yes or no, Ms. Brit?"

The answer she was sure Vivi already knew. It was an unspoken agreement almost, going back a long way. To a question asked in a much different time and place. And no matter how often it was asked, the answer would always be the same.

"Yes, Miss Vivi."

A moistening of lips as hands reached out towards the edge of the desk, ready to hold on.

"Yes, please..."
 
The consent was given no sooner did Vi slide into Brit. Both women were wet. From the teasing, the kissing, the slaps, and the power...one of those things, but probably all of them. She was sure that her teacher had moaned, but maybe that had come from Vi, herself, unable to tell from the pleasure at the first entry into her own body was matched by that of her teacher.

"Oh Fuck.."

She pressed her hips forward, slamming them both into the desk, Brit's hips taking the brunt of the onslaught. Vi slid her nails down Brit's back till she took hold of the other woman's hips and began fucking them both earnestly, in cadence, in mewling, whimpering, desk clinging, oh-fuck-yes, cadence.

"Fuck."

Vi dripped around the rubber inside her, she gasped and moaned with each stroke of her hips, staring unseeing at the ceiling while she moved in and out of both their bodies without thinking.

Her hand flashed down with one stroke and she slapped the ass of her language teacher, loving the whimpers it evoked in time with her fucking.

She couldn't get enough, the strikes from her palm onto the soft skin, her wild and deep thrusting, how each movement filled her and the woman she employed.

The Headmistress made her language teacher pay for each thrust, each drive into their bodies. Soon her hand and Brit's ass were red. Not that this stopped her. Not that anything could.

Fucking her teacher, in her office, on her desk, while she moaned for more?
It's good to be the boss.
 
That first thrust. The one that stole her breath along with all her cognitive abilities. She barely remembered her own name in that instant when toy pushed deep inside. Claiming. The action pinning her against the desk, placing her firmly where she belonged. Beneath the woman behind her, between her and whatever she decided would be the most fun, the most potent.

The first withdrawal. The one that made her whine with regret as she felt suddenly empty. That moment of panic that she would be teased and tormented, made to beg for it. She would. Brit knew she would. And it would be delicious but she needed it. Far too badly to be able beg properly. And Vivi deserved nothing short of her best.

Luckily Vi was in something of a benevolent mood. Hips crashed again and again, wet sounds accompanying every move that was made. Brit gripped the desk as she was fucked across it, hips banging into the wood - they'd be bruised. Brit didn't care. Given how red her ass was going to be by the time they were through it was the least of her worries.

Every thrust drew a moan, every slap a whimper. Moaning and whimpering, bucking back against the onslaught every time. Trying to her get deeper, to be filled as fully as possible.

"Oh...yes...yes please..." Brit growled, head rolling up as back arched. Spilling brunette straightness over her back and pressing breasts down against the unforgiven surface.

"Oh...fuck...fuck..." Brit's thighs were soaked, ridiculously so and as her climax began to build with frightening speed through her she knew that was only going to get worse.

"Please...please can I...?" She begged, tone wanton and desperate and dripping with need. Shaking as her body began to tremble, clit crushed between body and woodwork again and again.
 
Those begging words would have been coming out of Vi's mouth if she had the ability to speak, but she didn't. Her focus was all on not losing control. On staying upright and not falling to her knees in absolute awe of this woman, her sounds, of fucking her, of being on top.. of having this amazing piece of rubber inside her.

It wasn't all beautiful. Sometimes fucking someone just felt fucking good.

Like right now. As much as Brit begged, as much as she wanted to tell her no, Vi didn't. She only fucked them both harder, till the words falling from Brit were echoed internally by Vi.

Finally she was ready, she could feel her own orgasm building. She reached down and gripped Brit's hair and dragged her back onto the cock in them both.

"Cum. Now."

Which apparently was all Vi needed, before her own thighs were shaking and she was crying out her own ragged and deep orgasm, which gushed all over the toy and down her legs. Her nails digging into the hip of her teacher.

If Brit had finished, Vi didn't know.
She didn't care.
It felt fucking good to finish. Very fucking good.

And so she held herself there. Still hard and inside herself and her staff. While she worked on her breathing.

"Oh.. fuck."
 
Brit begged, over and over, not really aware of what she was saying any more. The slap of skin against skin speeding up in frequency, the rhythm growing more savage, more needy. Then came the tug on her hair and the toy was pushed as deeply as was humanly possible.

"Cum. Now."

Before the words had fully left those altogether too tempting lips, Brit was already starting to fall over into that gulf where everything went deliciously insane. Where control was a thing of the past and everything, everything, was about pleasure. Even breathing was something she felt could do without in those moments.

She was a writhing, jerking, twitching mess beneath her boss, between the woman who employed her and the desk at which she worked. Cries carried out into the hallway beyond and Brit couldn't have cared less. Her sex clutched the toy tighter and tighter as her hips rolled beneath, against, Vi's.

Wave after wave after wave. Another high, then another. Leaving her with a flushed, sweat beaded, face resting against the polished surface of the desk. Body trembling and dripping down her thighs.

"Oh.. fuck."

"...th-thank you..." The words were surprisingly loud but shaking incessantly. "Thank you, Miss Vivi..."

Without the desk, she'd have collapsed onto the floor long ago and now she made the most of it, recovering, catching her breath and trying to rein in her brain - to force it into remembering the basics, walking and talking. The things she'd likely need before long.

"Thank you so much."
 
Vi let go of her language teacher and let her slump against the desk, while she pulled out and stepped back.

The toy was unbuckled and tossed aside to be cleaned up in a bit, while the headmistress leaned over the woman working on her breathing, and kissed her shoulder, softly, intimately, sweetly even.

Her voice however, was all business, "thank you Ms. Brit, your raise will be confirmed and you'll see it on next month's paycheck."

Another soft kiss. Another sweet caress down the woman's side.

"Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. I trust that your needs have been met and that you're satisfied with our agreement."

Vi left a kiss on the top of Brit's spine.

"I have other matters to attend to. I trust that you can find your way out, I'll see you in 90 days for your review. And Ms. Brit?"

She squeezed the woman softly.

"My door is always open to you."

Vi pushed herself up and sauntered off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her and jumping into the shower. Vi would make sure that Brit's raise was substantial, the woman did great work.
 
"Thank you Ms. Brit, your raise will be confirmed and you'll see it on next month's paycheck."

Each soft kiss was greeted by a quiet little sound. Somewhere between a whimper and a sigh.

"Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. I trust that your needs have been met and that you're satisfied with our agreement."

A nod. An attempt at a reply. A failed attempt.

"I have other matters to attend to. I trust that you can find your way out, I'll see you in 90 days for your review. And Ms. Brit?"

"Y-yes, Miss...?"

"My door is always open to you."

She was gone before Brit could reply. Which was fortunate in some ways, because Brit had no words at all. Ironic given her position in the School.
When the door was slammed shut behind her she allowed herself to slump off the desk and onto her knees. Shaking and catching her breath for a moment or two.

After a pause, she rose to her feet, clumsily slipped her feet back into her heels and eased her skirt back down over her rosy rear.
With a remarkable amount of control she managed to walk across the room, out of the door and across to the elevators on the other side of the hall.

"Ms Fiala? I'm taking a sick day, please inform any students that I'll contact them to rearrange." She didn't turn around. Not that she didn't know that that secretary hadn't heard almost all that they had done but she didn't need to show her the flushed cheeks and the hazy smile that painted her face.

A ding and the doors opened. She fell gratefully inside and hit the button for the floor where her rooms were located. Grinning as the doors slid shut and the elevator began to rise.

That had gone well.

Very well.

A giggle and then a sharp wincing hiss as she leant back against the wall and her behind stung.

Another giggle.

Very well indeed.
 
Ring ring.

The chime of the door as he hit the street was friendly, almost jolly, and it may have put just a hint of a bounce in his step. The fact that he had found exactly what he was looking for, and in the first shop he visited, only helped. It, in a smaller box than the first, was now carried under his arm.

There was one final destination, a last place he had to stop in to and one final item he had to pick up, and his trip would be complete. It was saved for last, because he knew exactly what he needed, and exactly where it was, meaning he'd not have to carry around yet another package as he searched for the first two he held now. So far, everything had gone far smoother than he had thought it would. There was only one potential point for a hiccup after this, and he was fairly certain he had that handled as well.

One more stop, and he could head back.

A glance at his watch, a smile at the time.

So far, so good.
 
It was a half hour from the time he entered the last shop until the time he was back out on the street, and another box had been added to those he carried. Comparable in size to the first, it was in fact a bit heavier and a fine signal that the time had come to return.

There was a bit more hurry in his step as he made his way down sidewalks and around corners on his trip back to the school, the weight of his packages seeming to grow with each square of concrete he passed over. Still, he forced himself to slow as he approached the school so he did not attract any more attention than he already would with boxes under each arm.

Up the steps, through the front door, and he was relieved to find only the secretary in the entrance. He grinned at her quizzical stare, tipped his head in silent greeting, and breezed past her desk and down the short hall to the elevator.

His heart rate took a small uptick as the elevator carried him up into the building, and the risk of getting caught before he was ready grew. An empty hallway as the doors opened was a welcome site, and he made quick work of slipping into his quarters and pushing the door shut behind him.

Boxes were placed on the bed.

The shower was started.

One was opened.
 
Steam and water, and the day was washed off of him.

He took his time, his shopping excursion having finished quicker than he expected and leaving him with more time than he initially thought he'd have. The fit was flawless, though given what he'd paid and the initial trip for measurements, it was to be expected.

A step in front of the long mirror and he gave his reflection a final, satisfied nod. The open box on the bed, now empty, was left to be dealt with another time and the two remaining, one smaller than the other, were lifted into his arms once again.

He paused at the door, listening for sounds of movement in the hallway outside. The coast clear, he slipped out of the room much in the same way he entered it. A final glance at his watch, and he smiled to himself. Timing, as they said, was everything.





It was an uneventful, and almost entirely unseen trip to the Headmistress' Room. Quick work was made of opening the door, and he closed it tight behind him once inside, secure in the knowledge that he'd made the trip safely.

Two boxes were stacked one on top of the other on her bed, and he buttoned his jacket. Another glance at his watch.

The liquor cabinet grabbed his attention now, and he poured himself a small glass of dark rum, neat. Back across the room, his pace casual. The jacket was unbuttoned again, and he sank into a chair.

The glass lifted to his lips.

The only thing left to do now was sip the rum.

And wait for her arrival.
 
She'd been out running errands, finally returning home in the back of a cab. She got out quickly and headed upstairs with her phone, food and coffee in hand. Vi's meetings with various supporters meant that she always looked like a headmistress, her uniform of a pencil skirt, and hair piled atop her head, with at least one pencil stuck in the curls somewhere.

The office was silent as she made her way to her rooms, and opened the door while staring at an email on her phone, the croissant still between red lips and the coffee set down on the table, while she scanned her phone and frowned at it.

Then it hit her. She wasn't alone.

The bread was pulled away from her mouth while she stared at him, wetting her lips in an attempt to say something smarter than asking what he was doing there. He obviously had a plan.

From the look of that suit, it was a good one.
Or it had better be, after realizing that he'd broken in.

Vi took a deep breath and shook her head. This was her home ground, her space, and she'd not go crawling across the floor to him. Not even in that fucking suit. At least not...yet.

"Mr. Bubbles," She grinned and walked over to kick off her shoes into her large closet, "what brings you to my neck of the woods?"

Vi leaned casually against the door and sipped her chai and shot, keeping him, that suit, and the scent of him at a distance.

Safety first.
 
Rum was washing over his tongue when he heard her approach the door and saw her enter the room, and the glass was lowered to rest on the arm of the chair he still sat in. A grin fixed on his lips when he realized she didn't yet know he was there, and so he simply waited until that sixth sense kicked in and...

There it was.

The grin grew, threaded into a laugh at her greeting, and he lifted the glass to his lips to take another pull of rum as he watched her kick off her shoes.

"Oh," he began after swallowing the liquor. "Just a few things I thought you should see."

His lips met the glass again, and he drained the remaining rum.

Rose from his chair.

Crossed the short distance to the bed, where the boxes sat waiting.

The smaller one was lifted off the larger and set aside for the moment. The lid of the larger one was lifted then, and set to the other side of the box. Out of it he carefully lifted a dress, then turned to let it's full length unfold in front of him.

"It took significant scouting to make sure I had the right measurements, but I think you'll find it fits you rather well."

The dress was then laid across the bed, the hem just off the floor, and his attention turned to the smaller box. Again a lid was lifted off, and this time a pair of shoes were pulled out.

One more he turned, a finger hooked in the back of each and his other hand supporting the bottoms.

"These, also, should fit you quite well. And if you'll notice..."

He paused, stepped aside so she could see the dress again, and then tilted the toes of the shoes up towards the ceiling so she could see the bottoms.

"Black and white for us both... except your soles and your hair."

The grin returned to his lips, and then he set the shoes by the bed just under the hem of the dress.

"I'll wait here while you dress. We've got reservations for drinks..." he paused, a glance at his watch, and a satisfied nod at what he found there, "...in a little bit, and I would hate for us to be late."

And with that said, he lifted his glass again and crossed back to the liquor cabinet, where a splash of rum was tipped into the clear confines.
 
Soundlessly and rooted to the spot where she stood, she watched him pull out the dress, and then the shoes.

His words were lost on her, something about timing, about drinks, but her eyes stayed on the glimmery fabric, on the shoes, knowing that if she said anything, if she moved or spoke or tried even meet his eyes, she'd cry. He always did these things, moments or words or actions that left her in this same quandary. Most of the time she bit it back, she covered it with humor, or changed the subject. It was hard to show him that she cared or had feelings, better that he rip them from her. That he not see them, or realize they were even there.

So while he made himself another drink, helping himself to the always available rum or scotch she made sure she had on hand for his visits, because she didn't drink the stuff herself. She turned on her heel, and ran.

A short distance to be sure. To wash the day off her, to remember how to breathe without feeling like each intake of breath was suffused with him. She stripped and stepped into the shower, letting the water drain away her feelings, to keep them hidden, not available. She wasn't ready for them.

Or him.

But the shower was soon over, and she was almost too soon ready to go back out there, to ask for his help in getting into the dress. Vi prayed to whatever god that might exist for strength to not melt from his touch, to not blurt words that she wasn't ready to say, that he wasn't ready to hear, to not stop breathing, and to be the cool and sexy awesome woman she could be.

Then she opened the door and there he was, smirk, suit and all.
Damn him.

It took her less than a moment, less than the time he needed to set down the glass before she had leapt into his arms, with less grace and more intensity than she had planned for.

"Thank you...Daddy."
 
That night had been good. Dinner, while he eyed her with those blue eyes and smiled like he knew something she didn't. She drank way too much wine, trying to escape those eyes and the intense feeling that she was also on the menu.

A show. They'd both enjoyed it, but his hand had stayed possessively on her thigh as if to remind her who the dress and the girl that wore it belonged to. She'd hardly remembered what they'd seen, the cut of his suit and his voice as he led her to the waiting taxi wiped it from her memory.

Then they'd come home. And the dress.. well... it lay in tatters in her closet. Trashed. Cut from her. Ripped, used to bind her, and he'd enjoyed every minute.

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

But work had kept her busy. The Dean had submitted his retirement, and left the school, and Vivi had been looking for his replacement.

Invariably, the replacement had been found in Mr. Scuttles, she was unsurprised when his resume landed on her desk and she had considered him for the role once before. He was an excellent fit for the dean and settled capably into the role, while still keeping up with some of his classes as well.

Her English teacher had gotten her raise, substantially more than she thought she would.

And a librarian had been found in Ms. Tess, who was excellent with the books and finishing up her studies.

It felt good to be working on her school, and fixing things, and prepping for the coming summer semester.
 
One rainy morning...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWhMrLae-7Y

I certainly haven't been shopping for any new shoes
And
I certainly haven't been spreading myself around
I still only travel by foot and by foot, it's a slow climb,
But I'm good at being uncomfortable, so
I can't stop changing all the time


The elevator opened and the young woman pushing the cart wheeled it ponderously into the hall. The newest faculty member was turned out nicely in what suited her as professional style – after all, no dress code had been enumerated. The contents of the cart were weighty indeed, books upon books upon books. The dusty and comforting smell of aged pages wafted up to mingle with the scent of lavender. One slim hand was steadying the highest stack: it had teetered alarmingly when she had exited the elevator's carriage. For all the awkward arrangement of her cargo, a determinedly sunny smile played upon pink lips. Perhaps a bit of mischief? Perhaps that bottom lip was slightly swollen on one side?

I notice that my opponent is always on the go
And
Won't go slow, so's not to focus, and I notice
He'll hitch a ride with any guide, as long as
They go fast from whence he came
- But he's no good at being uncomfortable, so
He can't stop staying exactly the same


No matter. The wheels squeaked as she steered her charge, her heels followed with faithful clicks. It wouldn't do to lose control of the handle. It wouldn't do to watch as books scattered in rocketed confusion, the delightful jumbling of spines hitting the floor. No. It wouldn't do at all. And so she pushed, humming slightly tunelessly. She checked the watch on her wrist. Was there a purplish smudge there?

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine


She sighed. Running a bit late. She had meant to bring up several more cartloads than this, but had been distracted with the unpacking of said contents onto shelves and reading tables. She couldn't resist flipping through the pages to find sentences that leaped out from velvety paper, commanding her to mouth their syllables with soft tongue and teeth and lips. She was quite sure she would end up tripping over a chair one day from pure inattention – such flights of fancy were not unusual to her, and so she would watch herself more closely. The creaking continued. She grew close to the doors that had been her target all along, muttering a curse. She had propped them open with stacks of Hemingway but apparently the works hadn't been up to the task of keeping the way clear. The squeaking wheels pulled away from the entrance, showing highly glossed wood with sparkling windows. Small blinds were pulled up on the other side to allow passersby a view of the inside. A sign to the right of the door said quite simply, “LIBRARY.

I seem to you to seek a new disaster every day
You deem me due to clean my view and be at peace and lay
I mean to prove I mean to move in my own way, and say,
I've been getting along for long before you came into the play

I am the baby of the family, it happens, so
- Everybody cares and wears the sheeps' clothes
While they chaperone
Curious, you looking down your nose at me, while you appease
- Courteous, to try and help - but let me set your
Mind at ease


She finagled the dolly through the doors and let them shut behind her. A puff of perfume was all that was left after she disappeared from sight. Through the windows, she could be seen already picking up a book and flipping through its contents. No sound accompanied the image. The doors would muffle, if not block, all sound. After all, concentration and silence were important features of study. And with studying, excellence.

Do I so worry you, you need to hurry to my side?
-It's very kind
But it's to no avail; I don't want the bail
I promise you, everything will be just fine

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me, or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine


Or at least, the pursuit of excellence.
 
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Click, click, click, click, click.... and on and on through the empty halls, she strode. Students would return soon. She would smile sweetly at them, promise them swats and kisses, harsh lessons and even harsher rewards.

Long glittery nails slid down the walls, while she thought of her teachers. Her sweet, competent and wholly overpaid and pampered staff.

Click, click, click, click...

Coyly she licked her lips at her social study teacher's room. He should teach ethics, though he had none for himself and only a deep seated need for control. She slipped away from his door and tried not to think of floggers.

Click, click, click, click...

Her language teacher's room was empty, silent, the books lining the shelves and the windows brightly cascading light into the room. She gripped the door and stopped herself from wanting to leave something for her English teacher to find. Something that would make her blush mid-lecture, that would send her careening to the head mistress with fire in her eyes and a need. A need that really... could only be kissed away. Just barely stopped herself. But this teacher would kneel for her this year, again. That would happen.

Click, click, click, click...

Back to her office. Past the Dean's office. Where he was working. His tie unbound, sheaf's of paper on his desk, he had taken to his leadership role without hesitation. She wanted to go to him. But she wanted to tease him more. Entice him back to her room where they had danced. Where they would dance. She paused at his door and smiled. He looked up at her exhausted.

She winked.

He was tired. She could tell. But she didn't go to his side. Just smiled, winked and turned away..

Click, click, click, click...

It was going to be a good year. She could feel it.
 
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