Susan D. Wolstenholme was in her mid twenties very ambitious and was already a respected reporter/journalist on local television. She believed her current assignment covering an insignificant college fete was well below her abilities and was the kind of work she would usually refuse point blank. During their frank discussion even her editor who she had a good working relationship with seemed genuinely bemused as to why she had been chosen. Though just as unaware of the reason Susan had been selected as she was he stressed the fact that in his opinion that someone influential must have requested her attendance personally. Furthermore in an earlier briefing the station's hierarchy had made it plain to him that her refusal would not be looked on at all favourably.
So here she was then, thought a mildly irritated Susan, miles from anywhere, she had purposefully arrived late on Friday afternoon. After being made most welcome by the Principal, a Mrs. Veronica McWhirter and her pretty assistant Elizabeth Montgomery, the latter had stared at Susan far to much for comfort, she had been given a brief outline of the weekends events. To be honest she was not very pleasant with them and had been fairly unreceptive to their attempts at conversation, which clearly perturbed the Principal. She got little pleasure from antagonising them but couldn't help herself; she paid the main context of the conversation little attention.
Susan's ire faded a little as Veronica McWhirter's discomfort grew, though her thoughts gradually grew more focused on why Elizabeth Montgomery kept looking at her in that strange way. Well used to the ways the public saw her in either awe or disrespect and the various ways they reacted to her or her contemporaries treated her Susan felt confused by the stares. There was something else showing in the woman's eyes that she could not quite put her finger on, almost as if the young woman knew something she didn't but soon would. After the uncomfortable exchange Veronica McWhirter excused herself and left Elizabeth to finish welcoming their unenthusiastic guest. Susan had been shown to one of the Academy's quite sumptuous guest rooms in the West wing by a striking young man who had graciously carried her luggage. She wondered who had conspired so hard to get her here in person, and why.
The rooms were adequate and nicely furnished with good quality antique furniture though there were no chairs save for a single upholstered stool at the vanity table. A big old brass bed took up most of one wall, it looked really comfortable and she sauntered over and wrapped her fingers about the thick curved main frame of the highly ornate lower bedstead for support as she cautiously tested the softness of the mattress with her other hand. Satisfied that it was comfortable enough for her needs Susan spent a while unpacking then went into the small bathroom and started running a bath. Once the bath was filling she decided to try and call Tony again for some reason since she had arrived here her mobile phone had been playing up. In frustration she cast it down on the vanity table when it refused to function properly.
She was to be trapped here for at least two days and she smiled to herself thinking how much fun Tony and her could have in that big brass bed. After a long relaxing bath she slipped into that long tight-bodied peach nightdress that Tony loved so much, pulling it tight she laced it up the front. As she fastened the chain on which hung the Celtic cross he had bought her last week Susan thought of him again. In fact as her mind wandered her thoughts became quite rude making her feel somewhat aroused.
Standing before the mirror Susan watched her reflection's nipples stiffen beneath the thin satin as a delicious butterfly of excitement fluttered through her abdomen. In mere moments the intensity of her arousal had grown incredibly. The compulsion was too great to resist, she did not masturbate often but she found the urge to do so irresistible now. Watching herself in the vanity table mirror her breath grew ragged as she touched an aching rock hard nipple with her fingertips. In a detached manner she watched her reflection's other hand alighted on her ribcage, she watched it unhurriedly slither down over her body like it had a mind of it's own. At an agonisingly slow pace it slid snakelike over the smooth peach satin towards her heated mound, her eyes stared at the mirror avidly, she wanted to close them but couldn't. The soft hiss of her fingers sliding over the satin seemed incredibly loud in the otherwise silent room, apart from her urgent breathing and thumping heartbeat that is. Her fingertips had just reached the swell of her pubis when the soft knock on her door broke the spell, attempting to gather her composure she called out.
"Just a minute I'll be right there."
In a state of mild panic she turned from the mirror and grabbed her dressing gown and pulled it around her. Striking a pose of aloof defiance she took up position before the bed and folded her arms over her breasts to hide her traitorous nipples attempts to betray her excitement, that part at least was easy. Desperately she attempted to erase the flushed guilty expression from her face with only minor success.
"OK come in." she called out in an authoritative tone.
The door swung inwards seemingly of it's own accord. Susan realised that she had been so absorbed in her fantasy that she hadn't even locked the door; any one could have come in and caught her in a most embarrassing position. For what seemed a long moment no one entered then a barefoot young girl bearing a tray swept silently into the room. She wore a loose black silk dressing gown tied about the waist by a bright scarlet belt. Her abundant long gleaming jet-black mane was gathered tightly into a ponytail high on the back of her head and cascaded freely down her back.
"I've brought you a night-cap," the girl said quietly holding her head down hiding her eyes from Susan as she closed the door with her rump.
Perhaps due to her journalistic instinct Susan found herself inspecting the girl quite closely as she moved past her towards the bedside table with the tray. She was foreign or something Susan decided noting the golden tone of her glowing skin, a lot of women would kill for skin like that she thought. Examining the passing girl's profile she noticed her unusual hairline with its prominent widow's peak and her unusually pointed ears but paid them little heed. For someone supposedly ready for bed this girl wore a hell of a lot of jewellery. Her pointed ears alone had several rings, clasps and sleepers adorning them. All of her slender long nailed fingers bore one or more rings and several bangles slid noisily down her forearms as she put the tray down.
"Excuse me, could you possibly spare me some of your precious time Ms. Wolstenholme?" asked the girl seemingly timid but with the slightest undertone of sarcasm present in her voice.
Something was amiss, it seemed strange to Susan that the girl was purposefully averting her gaze from her as she spoke; mistakenly Susan took this for shyness. She presumed this was going to be another one of those tedious "How does one become a big TV star" chats that pissed her off thought Susan. That warm aroused feeling bubbled restrained but insistent within her and she wanted to get rid of her uninvited guest rapidly, partly to relieve the threatening embarrassment she would feel if the girl noticed her state of arousal. Probably the quickest way to dismiss this amazingly attired young girl would be to allow her request to talk briefly thought Susan.
"Yeah sure, sit down and relax." she attempted to mask the indifference in her voice as she spoke, "call me Susan, what's your name?"
After finishing shuffling the items on the small tray seemingly nervous the girl sat herself gingerly on the edge of the bed without speaking. The girl glanced up flashing a brief look at the woman stood before her and smiled as if she was afraid of speaking to a nationally recognised celebrity. The girl's reticence to speak caused a peculiar mix of anger and warmth to develop within Susan.
"What do you want then young lady?" Susan waited for the girls name trying to make herself sound important as she crossed to the bed and sat next to the reticent young girl.
"Sorry! Raven, call me Raven, err Susan" came the quietly whispered reply as the girl looked up.
