She is still kneeling on the couch, but submits willingly to his visual exploration, knowing that there will be more, much more, to come.She is still kneeling on the couch, but submits willingly to his visual exploration, knowing that there will be more, much more, to come. Renewing his grip on her wrists, he asks, "Do you have a class?" She nods. "Eleven-thirty till one, upstairs." "Here?" He grins; this is almost too perfect, for his last class will end at 12:30. He glances at the lounge's wall clock. It is shortly after ten. Plenty of time for a tease. His only regret is that, at this early hour of the day, there are far too many people around to risk anything in either the stairwells or the elevator. They must go to his office - and soon. Silently he beckons for her to follow him, leaving her scrambling to pick up not only her own things, but his as well. The coffee makes for a very delicate balancing act up three flights of stairs. In his office, in the familiar surroundings of what has served better as a playroom than workspace in the past, she sets down her load; after setting the coffee on the edge of his desk, she stands, turning to face him and smiling. The vehemence of the slap which greets her smile sends her to her knees. "Ah, how quickly you have forgotten, pretty," he whispers, straddling her where she has fallen. "You do not stand in my presence unless told to, and on top of all this, you are still dressed." He wraps his hand in a fistful of hair and pulls her head back to look at him. "Take your pants off." Seating himself on the edge of his desk, he keeps the grip in her hair. She sniffles, but makes no move to wipe the surprised tears from her cheeks. The sting of the slap fades quickly enough, she knows, and the delay will only make him angry. |