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“Where are we going?” I ask as we step into the corridor that runs the length of the school on this floor.
“Somewhere quiet. Somewhere I don’t have to choke out construction workers for disrespecting you,” he says. “Looking at you”.
“You look at me,” I challenge, pushing the envelope a bit as the tension crackles between us.
He stops, takes hold of my shoulders and stares into my face. I don’t miss the way his eyes take quick glances down, making my lady bits tingle with anticipation, making my fantasies come alive with ideas of being taken right here. “I like your dress,” he says, making the words sound dirty somehow. And meaningful. LikeI like your dressis code for something else. “Did you wear it to…”
He licks his lips, and I find myself nodding.
“Yes.”
He groans and draws closer. So close I can feel the heat from his body against mine. So close I can hear his heart thumping. Or is that mine? My jaw drops and my lips part, ready, waiting for his.
Then he pulls away. “Chemistry. Seems like an appropriate class for today, don’t you think? Something you’ll enjoy. Me as well.”
Chemistry.
I thought that was what we were just doing… sure felt there were some reactions going on.
He leads and I follow, the sounds of construction getting louder and softer as we pass rooms where men are working, ripping out the old parts of the school and church and replacing them with new. I only see two women among them. I’m not sure why I notice that, but I do. This place is so old fashioned, it’s like living in another time.
“We should go over the rules again,” Martin says as I perch on a stool behind a desk with a few beakers laid out.
My skirt rides up, flashing my right thigh up to the line of my panty waistband. But since it’s just me and him here, to hell withit. I want him to see my flesh. I want him to be tempted. I know I shouldn’t but I do.
“First, I need you to know that everything we tell each other is strictly confidential. I know we’ve been over this already, but I want to make it absolutely clear.” He takes a step forward, putting his hands on the edge of my desk. There’s the sound of hammering from the next room. “Anything you tell me, Kitty, stays between us. Unless I think there’s some imminent danger to you, then I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep you safe. I’ll always keep you safe. You can trust me on that.”
I nod. “I do trust you. I put myself in your hands. All of me.”
He hesitates, then goes on. “Number two, no judgment. Whatever you tell me, about your past or your thoughts or feelings, it won’t affect our relationship in any way. Number three, your goals are my goals. We’ll work together to achieve them. Number four…” He draws a deep breath that inflates his whole chest, making him seem even bigger, even more of a presence. I know why he’s hesitating. I’ve memorized rule number four, reading and re-reading the words on the laminated list of rules I found in a drawer in my room last night. The words that made me think about him, about his eyes on me, about being watched while I… “Rule number four, I can enter your private quarters any time I like. You can’t keep me out.”
“That’s not…” I lick my lips. “The rule saysA member of staff may enter for normal maintenance and cleaning or if they have reason to believe—”
He cuts me off. “Rule five, I make the rules.”
Not exactly what it says either. I mean, that’s the gist of it I guess. But the way my nipples are hardening and I could squeeze the squeal out of a nickel right now, semantics don’t really matter.
I want him in charge. I want him making demands. I want him to abuse his position. But, I also don’t want to make it too easy for him. Why, I’m not sure, but my gut tells me to push back a little.
“You have your journal,” he grunts. It’s not a question. The journal is tucked under my arm.
“Do you have yours?”
He pulls a small, slightly bent notepad out of his Levis pocket and puts it on the desk in front of me. So I shrug and hand mine over to him.
“Thank you. We should…” He falls silent, glancing at the wall behind me as a loud thud echoes through the room. Then another. Then another. With each one the muscle in his cheek twitches. “Fuck it, let’s get out of here.”
“And go where?”
“You choose. Where would you like to go, Kitty?”
“The beach,” I say without hesitation and he nods, reaching for my hand, our fingers weaving together.
“Good girl. The beach it is. Let’s go.”
“So, a pedicure, huh?”Father Martin’s hand rests on the pages of my journal, holding it open against the gentle breeze coming in from the ocean. He squints my way, frowning in the sunlightover my shoulder as he reads the answer to the second question he asked yesterday.
What do you want to do?
