I had to smile when she strode into the room. Her eyes were solid, focused; her face serious. Her hair streamed behind her, bouncing with her every step. Once, I had only thought models could walk like that. Well, Delphine was by far too short and too thick to be a standard model. Not to say she wasn't stunningly gorgeous, just, not the anorexic staple of most modeldom. When she finally reached my desk, one hand lightly grazed the top, and the other reached up and swept off her orange tinted sunglasses.
Strangely, her ostentatious dress suited her. Normally, she dressed in a highly conservative, classy- but nonetheless breathtaking, way. Today... well, she was still classy, if there was ever a doubt, but there wasn't much conservation. She had a mid-leg plaid, brown and gold pleated skirt, and a black trench-coat firmly buttoned and tied, which reached to only a few inches above the bottom of her skirt. Her almost knee-high boots caught me off guard for a moment, and I couldn't help but stare at the noticeably fleshsoft golden-brown shirt she wore underneath the jacket. Though her breasts were proportionately larger in comparison with her body, she managed to hide them well, while accentuating her round hips and small waist.
It was rare that Delphine wore makeup, but I hadn't seen her in almost a year, so it's deftly possible that she had altered some of her normal dress procedures. I smiled at the thought. Her lips glittered with golden lip gloss, and there was just a hint of gold on her cheeks and above her eyes. What was this? Was she a fucking rockstar all of a sudden? Hot, but still, out of character for Miss Priss, anointed cockblocker of the State.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Barone?" I was decidedly uncomfortable with her presence, with my lust for her mind, body, soul- Perhaps I was most uncomfortable with that look of utter assassination in her eyes.
Her steady gaze continued to bore into me. When she spoke, though softly, I was reacquainted with how deadly and silken her voice was when she was upset. "Simply, Mr. Preston, I would like to know why I have been being ignored by you. Did I do something to offend you? If I have, I would gladly like to know what it is so that I may redouble my efforts and truly put my antagonistic nature to good use."
Oh. Delphine was one of my more interesting ex-students all right. She had graduated the year before, but still plagued my mind. To be completely honest, I wasn't allowed to speak with her. My wife had caught me doing something... underhanded, and had insisted that I no longer have communication with the vixen. Looking at her now, it was obvious that she may have taken notice that I wasn't responding to her messages. "Why would you think I have been ignoring you?"
I was going to play this Nixon style. Admit nothing. "Stop giving me this Richard Nixon shit, Preston. I know what you're doing. And I want to know why."
Fuck! She knew me too well. It came to no use though, I was tongue-tied. There was a deliciously fuckable brainchild in front of me, and she had caught me with my pants down. Suddenly, her eyes became soft. Thank god, the monster has retreated and she's decided to switch tactics. Her anger was something that scared people to dirty drawers, but the strategy worked, because they were more than willing to talk to make sure that the beast was not unleashed once more. The primal, feral being that would kill you rather than look at you.
"If I really have done something, I want to know. At least give me a reason before shutting me out. I didn't know I had done anything wrong, I've been speaking with all my favorite teachers and no one else seemed to mind..."
My tongue felt too big for my mouth. I kept going back and forth between wondering what kind of panties she had on, to how badly that boot in my face would hurt, to remembering exactly why I hadn't been responding to the sorceress. I found my voice. "Would you like me to be candid or civil, Miss Barone?"
"I would normally decide for civil, but please, be straight."
Standing, I walked around and motioned for her to take a seat in my chair. She took a seat languidly, and then reflexively crossed her legs, locking them. Leaning one arm against her knee, and the other on that arm, her attention entreated me to begin. "By all means, Sir."
I groaned inwardly. "Do you think it's possible to love more than a person at a time?"
Her eyes became hard again. "Yes, I believe it's possible," but before I could make my case, she injected, "But you always love one of them more."
My mouth was already half wrapped around a word, and I had to rethink my argument. Stumbling for a few seconds, I realized it didn't matter, I would use my case anyways. "Yes, well, I'm married, I have children- and yet I have the most vivid dreams about you. Some of them are as simple as working on an old lab, some are just memories, some are fictitious conversations, and others are... of a more carnal nature. Apparently, I've said your name a few times too much for the woman who shares my bed to be comfortable with. When she caught me jerking off in front of the computer one day, and your email on the screen, she said enough was enough."
"You're not allowed to speak to me," I was blushing. Fucking blushing. The heat radiated from my face.
"I am not. And it's a damn good thing too. I love my wife and children, and I happen to have a distinct regard for my earthly possessions."
She didn't look at me for a few moments, but held a sidelong glance at the floor. Her lips twitched once, and then she flicked her eyes back to me. "Your wife's name is Laura?"
I blinked. "Your point?"
"She's a tall blond, green eyes? Wears a silver necklace with a little M and C on it?"
To my recollection, Delphine had never seen my wife, or a picture before. You know that feeling that Michael Douglas' character had to have after Glenn Close boiled his bunny? Yeah, I was getting there. "Where-"
Placing a hand up, the tips of her fingers ever so slightly inclined toward me, she interrupted. "I was visiting the Borders in Plymouth. I saw her. I didn't connect it right away, no. But I remember her name was Laura, she had a necklace on with M and C, for Michael and Caleb (my sons), and ... she said she worked in the Clinton Schools. It took awhile for this to click, someone had to say something about a Michael before I went... whoa, wait a minute, here... but... I was eavesdropping. I had heard her, but not cared until she said something about meeting at the Binge and Purge. I had met someone there awhile before, and it just brought up bad memories."
"Well?"
"I was on the other side of the book cases, and she was on her cell phone. I had gotten a good look of her before diving into Sociology, she was hot. I'm just saying that I hope it was you on the phone, because she said she couldn't wait to do the 'normal F and S, honey'."
"What if it was me, Delphine? What if I was the one there, waiting for my wife to put her normal fuck and suck moves on me?"
The way the shadows glided over her dead serious face, and the way the realization hit me that Delphine hadn't
known
what F and S meant, left me breathless for a second after the outburst. Slowly, she began again, "Then it would mean you got the royal treatment, babe. And if it had been you, you would be smiling nostalgically now, not panicked."
My brain was at an all-stop. I didn't want to think of the possibility. That my wife was fucking another man. No, no. Delphine had always had the hots for me, her entire senior year. I put my arms down after noticing I had subconsciously began to run both hands over my scalp, through my hair. I kept going no, no, no, no, no through my head. Her face was still steady. I suddenly felt very angry, and it was all directed at her. Before I could express it though, her darkness kept me captivated as she spoke. "Before you call me a damned liar, as I know you're close to doing-" the bell rang to let school out, she paused for a moment to let it pass, "You should reconsider. I do not lie. While I can understand that you might not believe me over your wife, at least give me a benefit of a doubt. Neither say I am wrong, nor that your wife is guilty. I wasn't sure what her F and S meant, but you were the one that really made me believe what I heard."
