The Headmaster Ritual (1)
Prologue: Friday, 26 April
Portia danced sinuously in the half-light of the dimly lit study, closing her eyes and losing herself in the thumping beats and intricate rhythms of the Latin music. She reached up and ran her hands around the brim of her straw hat, the fingers brushing against the silky pink ribbon. She watched him tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair as she eased it off her head and playfully tossed it towards him like a Frisbee. It skidded to a stop next to his sensible black shoes. She ran her hands through her long black hair then slowly down over the trim contours of her slim, young body until they rested on her hips, emphasising their tilt and sway. They moved left and right, undulating in time to the music that played on the radio, her dress swishing against her smooth, bare legs.
Professor Carter, her maths teacher, leant back in the large wing-back chair, lacing his pudgy fingers behind his head and stretching his legs out in front of him. He'd dimmed the main lights in his study and switched on his bright desk lamp before Portia had arrived. As her slim body moved to-and-fro in front of his desk, he was rewarded with shadowy glimpses of her long legs moving beneath the thin floral print dress. He was particularly pleased with her choice of this week's outfit. The thin dress was pale yellow with small red flowers and clung tightly to the girl's subtle curves. He felt his cock stir as he wondered what kind of underwear she'd chosen this week.
Last week she'd revealed a lacy, lilac-coloured bra and pants set as she slipped out of her tight denim cut-offs and khaki t-shirt. And the week before that, a pair of sheer black stockings beneath a silky, burgundy evening dress. When they'd first started their little weekly 'study sessions' she'd worn her school uniform, but she'd been happy to oblige when he suggested that she experiment with different outfits. Happy as long as he kept giving her such generous marks for her assignments, of course.
It was a large but cosy study with a thick carpet and antique mahogany furniture. A half-open door led to a small bedroom with an en-suite bathroom. A roomy, comfortable office was one of the benefits of being both the head of mathematics and the deputy headmaster. Recently, he'd been spending more time here than he did at home in the large detached house he shared with his wife in the nearby village of Eastbrook. In quieter moments, he sometimes wondered if his wife still believed him when he told her that he was working late or had too much to drink at one of the functions he had to attend in his capacity as deputy head.
Portia kicked off her strappy sandals and felt her feet sink into the soft beige carpet. All those dance lessons her parents made her go to on Saturdays were finally paying off, although they'd be horrified to see how she was making use of her skills now. She slipped one of the thin straps from her shoulder as she slowly gyrated, feeling him staring at her, undressing her with his dark eyes, the pupils swollen in the half-light. The first time she'd done this, his intense stare had made her nervous and self-conscious but now it excited her, encouraged her to take more risks.
Maths had never been one of her stronger subjects. She'd often noticed him staring at her in class so when he'd asked her if she'd like some extra tuition one evening she'd been sure that he wasn't talking about extra help with modular arithmetic. It hadn't taken much to tempt him: laughing a little too much at his jokes, sitting a little too close to him, a hand 'accidentally' brushing his leg.
It wasn't so bad though. They had a clear understanding: she'd perform a little dance routine for him whilst she stripped down to her underwear and he'd mark her assignments 'generously'. She made it clear that there was to be no touching and he'd seemed happy with that. Perhaps he felt he wasn't really cheating on his wife this way. In any case, it was a simple arrangement that suited them both.
Somehow, Portia instinctively felt safe around Professor Carter. He was a short, round, distinguished-looking man; not fat exactly, but with the soft, rounded edges and paunch of someone in his fifties, whose main pastime was solving arcane mathematical problems. The metallic frames of his glasses matched the colour of his curly, close-copped steely grey hair and his forehead was etched with the worry-lines of someone who'd spent too many nights fretting about his students' grades. Tonight he was wearing a crumpled navy blue suit and a blue-and-yellow striped tie, the end of which he used to polish the greasy lenses of his glasses. He hooked them back over his ears and leaned forward in his chair as he watched Portia tilt her head back and close her eyes as her hips slowly gyrated, describing the smoothest of ellipses.
"So do you like this week's outfit, Professor?" she asked as she ran her hands through her long, black tresses.
"Oh yes, very much, it's very sexy," he replied, watching as her little diamond stud earrings glinted in the soft light.
"You don't think it's too tight?" she continued, smoothing the thin material over the soft curves of her boobs.
He shook his head, unable to take his eyes off her.
"Or maybe too short?" she purred as she performed a slow pirouette, her hips wiggling sexily, drawing attention to her pert bottom.
"You don't think it's too revealing if I do this?" she said as she paused halfway around and bent forward a little, shaking her bottom provocatively. He couldn't resist reaching out and pinching her, his fingers testing the firmness of her buttocks.
"Professor Carter! You naughty boy!" she protested, spinning around and pretending to be shocked, her glossy lips forming a perfect "O". "Sorry my dear, couldn't resist!" he said, grinning and holding up his hands as he leant back in his chair.
"You know the rules Professor, you can look but you mustn't touch!" she said.
"Ah, but you're just too tempting tonight Portia, I can't help myself," he said, watching as she bent forward and slowly drew her hands along the smooth skin of her endless legs. His breath caught in his throat as her hands caught the hem of her dress, sliding it up over her creamy thighs giving him a teasing glimpse of her white panties.
Portia smiled as she straightened up and eased the other strap over the smooth pale skin of her shoulder.
"Such a naughty professor," she said, leaning forward as she wagged a finger at him.
He had an excellent view of her cleavage as she did so. Her modest but perfectly formed boobs straining against her flimsy dress. She giggled as his grasping hands stretched towards her again. He was in a frisky mood tonight, she thought to herself as she shimmied away from his clutching fingers. The first couple of weeks she'd felt awkward and self-conscious when she was dancing but each week she felt a little more confident, a little more sexy and recently she'd begun to enjoy it.
It was such a contrast. In class, he was the one in control; he was the one that told her what to do. But on Friday evenings the normal rules were reversed, and for an hour or two it was her that was in control. She was the one setting the agenda. It surprised her how much she had started to look forward to it.
"I really need your opinion on my new underwear but you've been such a bad boy I'm not sure I should show you," she teased as she continued to sway to the driving beat of the dance music.
"Please Portia," he whined. "I'll give you an A for you next assignment. Your next two assignments!"
She smiled as she reached under her arm and found the discrete little zip. She felt his eyes burning into her as she eased it lower, the dress falling away and revealing her breasts encased in a lacy, white half-cup brassiere that barely covered her dusky pink nipples.
"Gorgeous," he gasped.
"You like it?" she asked as she eased the material lower so that it bunched around her hips, exposing the smoothly taut skin of her lean stomach.
"Yes, very much," he replied.
He felt his cock strain against his suit trousers as he watched her hips swing back and forth. Portia slowly wriggled the dress over her hips, an inch lower on the left then an inch lower on the right. Taking her time, making him wait, his anticipation building. She could see him leaning forward eagerly as it finally slid down her shapely legs and formed a little yellow and red pool around her ankles.
