Seducing the Teacher
Lorelai Phoenix
Copyright 2012 Lorelai Phoenix
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When he came for her, she was still naked in the pool of water, the darkness of its warm caress casting tasteful shadows on her nude form. “Not again, Tracie. You’re supposed to be hiding in the wardrobe. Sharon’s going to recast you if you don’t get your act together.”
“Yes, professor.” She lowered her head to hide the barest hint of a smile that played across her features. He was not as unaffected by her charade as he pretended to be. The bulge in his pants told her that much.
“From the beginning of the scene!” Sharon, the director, shouted. He marched offstage, leaving Tracie to resume her scene from the pool onstage. She did so with great delight, slowly soaping and rinsing her pale skin as she recited her lines.
“What is my crime, that the gods have cursed me so?” She wailed, grasping at her breasts. “My husband has left me to seek the company of another woman. It is too much to bear!” She stood abruptly. “There is no happiness left to me here.” She climbed out of the now tepid water, exposing a nicely rounded derrière as she turned to the wardrobe to pull out the waiting robe.
White silk, it clung seductively to her body, the dampness rendering it all but transparent against her skin. It was a special piece she’d prepared for the evening. The usual was a heavy red piece which offset her paleness perfectly. But tonight, she wasn’t looking to be seen from the audience. She just wanted to be noticed from across the stage.
Right on cue, a crash sounded from the wings. It was time. “What was that dreadful noise?” She cried, desperation and fear seeping through her words as if she were born to it. More noise from offstage. She screamed and dove into the wardrobe, closing the doors in front of her.
John Browning strode onstage, sword in hand. “I know you’re in here, Helen. No use in hiding.” He called. “There’s only one way out of this room. With me.” He peered down into the water, partially in character and partially to make certain Tracie wasn’t still in the lighted pool. She wasn’t.
“Well, well. You’re not in the bath, and you’re not on the bed. Where else could you be, little mouse?” He strode across stage, checking behind each piece of furniture, making a show of a mock search before allowing his gaze to settle on the wardrobe. “Found you, Helen.” He cleared the distance in a few strides, turning his back to the house in order to throw wide the wardrobe doors.
Rather than his next line, all he managed was silence. She was supposed to be covered by a red dressing gown. Instead, a short, white robe exposed her even more than the water, and he got his first real glimpse of how soft and feminine she really was. Damp fabric clung to her every curve, outlining a body so perfectly proportioned he could have sworn the gods made her just for him. Small, round breasts, pink nipples straining at the tightness of the silk, accentuated by a waist so small he was sure that, if he tried, he could almost encircle it with his hands. She was stunning. Briefly he imagined what she’d feel like beneath him, mewling and acquiescent. The perfect fuck.
“What do you intend to do with me, Paris?” She cried, covering for his missed line with practiced grace. The show must go on, and his moment to appreciate her beauty and fuckability had passed.
“Take you with me, love. Take you far away from that fool of a man who would leave your bed for that of another.” He reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her from the wardrobe into view of the empty house.
“Why should I go? I am not faithless as my husband.” She tried to pull away, but he reeled her in closer, forcing her into an embrace.
It was a mistake. With her soft curves pressed tightly against him, he felt his resistance slipping away, inch by inch as her chilly flesh wriggled against him in a show of attempted escape. He only hoped she couldn’t feel the stirring in his loins as she pressed against him.
“You haven’t a choice, love. Aphrodite gave you to me, and I intend to collect my prize.” He whispered, their faces so close, they almost touched. She struggled in his grasp, but her size gave her little in the way of strength to escape, and with a wicked grin, he hoisted her over his shoulder and strutted offstage, trying to ignore the press of her breasts on his back and the delectable view of her ass the position offered. The curtains closed behind them, ending Act I.
*****
“That was brilliant!” The director, Sharon, called from the front of the house. “I may just have to give you Garret’s role, Professor Browning. You made a brilliant understudy.” Her glowing praise did not go unappreciated, but John was more than a little wary about continuing filling in for the absent male lead. What other surprises might his graduate students have in store?
“Thanks, Sharon.” Tracie gushed, pulling the terrycloth robe she’d donned offstage closer around her. “I didn’t know what you’d think about the robe swap, but it seemed too perfect, and I couldn’t find you before we started to ask.” She smiled innocently.
“That was quite the touch.” Sharon smiled. “After notes, we’ll strike and then you’re off for the evening. Don’t forget about the extra rehearsal on Thursday, and make sure Garret finds out. If he misses another rehearsal, I really will replace him.”