Title: Mienne
Summary: At an intuition for those with superpowers, a body-possessing history teacher ropes in a colleague to satisfy an obsession with the new French professor.
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There was no fallout, afterward.
Since possessing Jane's body, Michael was sure a consequence would result. In his experience, there were always repercussions when someone shamelessly indulged; whether it be through any vice, have it been greed, wrath, or lust. And though the victim of Michael's abilities never remembered what had happened while their body was in his possession and instead simply chalked it to lost time, the man was still convinced something would happen. That perhaps Jane had a hidden security camera in her office that he hadn't been aware of, that someone with a sixth sense for these sort of incidents reported it to the board, that somehow the authorities specialty equipped to deal with superpowered transgressions were about to knock on his front door.
But nothing happened. Days, then weeks went by. And when Michael caught Jane in the hallway one day after a lunch period, she gave him her usual polite, closed-mouthed smile and went about her day.
Michael replayed that hedonistic day in his head before going to sleep each night. He thought of her naked body during his planning periods. He got himself off in his bedroom at the thought of Jane mewling with abandoned pleasure as she rode his unconscious body. And to know the woman suspected nothing only boosted the man's prowess even more. He had abused his ability countless times -no doubt his teenage years could provide material for a 3 thousand-page memoir- but never before had Michael felt such pleasure as he did as Jane Fay. The woman was a minx in nun's clothing. She just didn't know it yet.
More days went by. Michael's breaking point came during an assembly, when he had the most wonderful view of Miss. Jane Fay sitting along an aisle seat. She was whispering to a young student beside her, translating the speaker's presentation to the boy's native tongue until he could learn enough English to get by. It was charming how she spoke with her hands, trying not to distract any neighboring pupils. The young woman wore a flattering plaid dress that day with kitten heels and stockings. Her golden hair was in a perfect polished bun. Michael wanted to ruin her. Even as a child, he always had a habit of destroying beautiful things.
That very next morning, Michael closed his eyes in his empty office and thought of Jane Fay. When he opened his eyes a moment later, he blinked at the harsh fluorescent light of Jane's classroom once more.
Looking at those familiar hands, he knew a normal relationship with the woman would be impossible. As lovely and as perfect as Jane was, Michael selfishly only wanted the woman for one thing and physical pleasure was not the only exchange between two partners in a healthy relationship. What he wanted, in the end, was something akin to a sex slave. Someone like Jane Fay, with ample breasts, hourglass figure, perky ass and beautiful lips, who was irresistibly shy and had no idea how ravishing her body was.
With a relishing sigh, Michael kneaded Jane's breasts through the dress's fabric where he stood in her classroom. He didn't surprise the man that she would be at the academy so early too. The woman was hard-working and cared for the future generations. Michael wondered idly if the woman would eventually make a doctor's appointment for her slips of memory, because surely, he'd be doing this on a much more reoccurring basis.
Then suddenly two knocks, followed by her door swiftly opening, led Michael to drop his hands and turn.
"Hey there, good morning."
Charles O'Connell welcomed himself inside Jane's classroom like he had been invited, and maybe he
had
been, for all Michael knew. He placed a messenger bag on the woman's desk as he described the traffic on his commute. Honestly, it was the most words Michael had ever heard come from the other man's mouth. Charles was the Systems' Administrator for the school, sheepish and quiet and often burying his thick framed glasses in a book whenever Michael saw him on campus. They were friendly towards each other, despite being opposites in both looks and personality. If Michael Lehnsherr was a bright blonde summer drink on a hot day, then Charles O'Connell was a dark, unsweetened hot chocolate; with a set of dark eyes and an even deeper brown riot of curls atop his head. He dressed how he spoke; formal and unassuming. Which is why Michael found himself stunned in Jane's body when the man preemptively kissed her squarely on the mouth.
"Sorry," he frowned, "Is this a bad time?"
"You could say that," Michael shrugged his shoulders, eyeing Charles carefully. This could end very badly, or very good. "Jane is actually indisposed at the moment. You're speaking with Michael Falke."
Charlies blinked, stepping back. His gift of invisibility worked instinctively at times, and Michael saw it happen then as the man's body fluttered transparently for a moment, embarrassed and taken aback. Odd reaction, but not necessarily a bad one.
"You're- you're Jane? Why?"
Michael rolled his eyes, and he wished he could have seen it from Charles's perspective, how sassy Jane could be if she wanted to be. He placed a hand on her smooth, jutting hip for good measure. "Why do you think?"
Charles quickly sized Jane's body up, as though looking for evidence of the man's perverse, suggestive remark. "Jane and I have been going steady for the last two weeks." He said. When Michael in Jane's body remained silent, he continued with, "We don't have much time, you know, with work, so we've been keeping it private with little, uh, morning meetings." Then, as a second thought, he added, "Get out. I doubt she gave you permission to do this."
"She didn't." Michael cocked his head. "But she won't remember any of this either. So, if you came here for a quickie, you can still get it."
"You're sick," Charles frowned. But the other man didn't move away. In fact, his eyes seemed to roam Jane's body even more, almost indulgently, without disgrace to be caught staring.
"Come on, what's the most Jane lets you do? I bet it's all above the waist?" Michael grasped a countertop behind him and lifted Jane's petite form on it, leaning back suggestively to highlight her breasts straining against the dress and crossing her legs. "She won't remember
a thing
." Michael tapped the man's thigh with the tip of Jane's heel.
"Stop looking at me like- like her." Charles crossed his arms. "This isn't right. You need to bring her back."
