Number Six (The Villains #3)

Chapter 11

Boss Me

T hat afternoon, with her troubling morning spa session still filling her mind, Ottilie headed down to the front desk. An important document she’d been waiting on had arrived. Her realtor had insisted on posting the original for her to sign rather than emailing her an electronic version.

As she waited at one side of the semicircular reception area for Mrs. Menzies to fetch her mail, a child’s head appeared above the counter on the facing side.

Then it disappeared.

And reappeared.

A girl. About…ten? Hard to tell, given she was a blur trying to being seen above the high barrier.

“Grahammm!” came the plaintive cry of the tiny human.

That got his attention. Graham spun around in his chair, not noticing Ottilie—what else was new?—and faced the girl.

“Miss Imogen,” he said, shooting to his feet, his voice smoothing into obsequiousness. “How may I help you?” He leaned over the counter and looked down at her.

“Dad said my new fish had arrived; that they’re here waiting for me?”

Ah. No wonder she was excited. Who wouldn’t be? Fish! Ottilie found herself moving closer to the girl, curious as to which specimens her father had acquired for her.

That was one thing Ottilie would miss about her home. Her large fish tanks. She’d collected various exotic species over the years. The past six months had been spent rehoming them to suitable adoptive owners. She couldn’t take them with her as they wouldn’t survive the tropical conditions of her next destination.

Graham disappeared from view as he bent to floor level, then emerged, plopping a plastic bag with half a dozen orange fish swimming in it.

They appeared to be healthy enough specimens of common goldfish.

The little girl pouted. “Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Graham wrung his hands anxiously in front of himself. His reaction seemed far out of proportion for the small guest.

Seriously, who was this child?

“That one’s black!” She pointed at it. “I wanted them all gold!”

He frowned. “Well…” He shifted uneasily, hands fidgeting, looking flustered. “I’m sure your father could put in a complaint—”

“If I may,” Ottilie cut in. “It’s black now .” She met the girl’s eye. “Goldfish often change color. Black and brown are common initial colors for the species, but this is often only temporary as they age. It’s theorized that little fish being darker makes it easier for them to hide. When they’re bigger, they don’t need the survival advantage as much and change color.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up.

Graham slunk away in obvious relief, returning to his work.

“Indeed. If you make sure their diet is correct and that the tank is kept clean and in sufficient sunlight, a black goldfish could well change to other colors. Orange, yellows or reds, perhaps? That’s what makes a goldfish magical,” Ottilie said earnestly.

“Magical?” Her eyes were wide.

“Yes. You never know exactly what you’re going to get.” She smiled.

The girl…what had Graham called her… Imogen ? Beamed.

“Thank you.”

“Is this your first goldfish?”

She shook her head. “My first black one, though.”

“The first black one you know of,” Ottilie said patiently. “For all you know, the ones you had before started out black. That’s what makes them interesting.”

Imogen grinned hard. “That’s awesome. Do you have a lot of fish?”

“I used to. They’re all gone now.” She still felt their loss. It would be temporary, of course. Ottilie would correct this soon enough.

“I’m Imogen,” the girl said. “What’s your name?”

“Ottilie.”

“Otter-Lee?” She screwed up her face in confusion. “That’s weird. But, okay, I’ll name the black one ‘Otter’ after you.”

Ottilie felt her nostrils flare. “I am most assuredly not an otter!”

She giggled.

“Why not Carassius?” Ottilie asked. “After its Latin name, Carassius auratus? ”

“You’re funny.”

“I am?”

“You know I’m just a little kid, right?”

“I wouldn’t use that as an excuse,” Ottilie said with a smile. “It’s not difficult to learn another language. I know five.”

“Me too! Well, three.” She bounced up and down. “Dad says I’m annoying in three languages, but my auntie Amelia says it means I’m not wasting my fine mind.”

“Your aunt is quite correct. Your father is wrong.” Ottilie was well aware this was regarded as the worst, most undiplomatic thing one could tell little humans—that their parents had flaws. But she wasn’t about to lie.

Rather than being upset by this pronouncement, Imogen snickered. “Yeah, I know. You sound like Auntie Amelia.” She grinned hard. “And Dad’s just mad he doesn’t know what I’m saying half the time.”

“I see.”

Imogen tilted her head, regarding her. “Hey, Otter-Lee? Do you think fish know us? Like, can tell humans apart? And do you think they know they’re in a bowl? Do you think they ever want to be free? Dad says they don’t remember anything, so we can keep them anywhere, but what if they do have feelings and memories? How would we know?”

“Enough harassing the guests, Miss Duxton,” Mrs. Menzies said firmly, bustling out from the office behind the front desk. “I apologize for the delay, Ms. Zimmermann. Here’s your paperwork.” She handed over an envelope.

Miss Duxton? As in Hotel Duxton ? It would explain Graham’s fawning over the child.

Imogen thrust out her lower lip in dismay, her expert source on fish intel having been withdrawn from her.

Ottilie took pity on her and said, “In answer to your questions, we don’t know fully what a fish thinks or feels. Scientists can only make theories based on experiments. But that doesn’t mean you should ever take them for granted. You must always remember our fish rely on us. Treat them well because you’d feel bad if it were you, wouldn’t you? Make sure to be good to them. That’s your number one responsibility as a fish custodian. All right?”

Imogen nodded solemnly. “I promise, Otter-Lee. Thank you.” She carefully picked up her fish bag, then headed toward the elevators.

“Otter-Lee?” Mrs. Menzies murmured in amusement. “I do apologize. The CEO’s daughter can be full of enthusiasm but less interested in the etiquette of not bothering others.”

“It’s fine. I always appreciate a fellow fish enthusiast.”

“You seem to be good with children,” Mrs. Menzies said as if she hadn’t expected it.

“She wasn’t a child,” Ottilie said absentmindedly.

At Mrs. Menzies’ startled look, she clarified. “She’s an inquiring mind stuffed into a tiny package.” Ottilie took the paperwork, thanked Mrs. Menzies, and left.

This was how she’d been raised: as if she were a very short adult who already understood most grown-up concepts. Her parents never dumbed anything down nor put on cutesy voices for her. They talked to her as they might a colleague.

She’d been a sponge, absorbing ideas and concepts quickly, and had become exceptional at conversing with adults. It had made for some difficult socialization at school, but she’d never cared much for her peers. It had often felt as if she were waiting for everyone else around her to grow up, and it was frustrating. To this day, she was impatient around immature people.

Her upbringing, spent surrounded by intelligent, deeply curious adults, had also made her appreciate cleverness at a young age. It was why she disliked the nonsense of, say, flirting, when it was the equivalent of empty calories in a conversational meal that could instead be filled with something substantial.

And it was why she’d recently begun appreciating Monique Carson, once she’d seen beyond her surface nonsense. She’d found another inquiring mind.

Had Ottilie frightened her off, though? With her honesty about what she used to do?

She certainly hoped not. She’d shared more, within certain boundaries, than she ever had, in the hope that Monique might understand better who she was. For some reason, that felt important.

A sense of loss swept over her as she headed toward the elevators at a stinging pace. She very much hoped she had not lost Monique.

* * *

The vice principal was someone Monique would have been weak-kneed over had they met outside her room. What was it about austere, repressed women that did it for Monique? Ordinarily, she’d already be lost in a lust haze, but now she was distracted, still troubled by Ottilie and her many secrets. It had been a few hours since their spa together, and she still could barely get her head around what she’d learned.

The confounding woman was hardly some mousy PA for a big corporation that did dubious things. She was a PA, certainly, but she wielded real power. She’d also dropped a few subtle clues. How many times had she mentioned what the board said or thought? How she’d complained directly to the board .

What assistant ever had such access to a company’s board of directors? They granted Ottilie audiences—even if they dismissed her concerns. They allowed her inside that boardroom. That was strange.

Who was this woman? And why was Monique torturing herself even considering her? She should walk away— run —and forget they’d ever met.

Except…Monique didn’t want to. She enjoyed the parry and thrust and intellectual discussions and the mystery. She enjoyed her .

Vice principal Victoria Mills reappeared, post-shower, having redonned the outfit she’d arrived in instead of opting for a bathrobe as most clients did.

Her outfit was a high-necked ruffled blouse, black, with an equally black skirt suit that offset her pale skin. Victoria’s hair was done up in a tight bun. Eyebrows—arched, thin, and black—matched those coal-dark eyes. Remarkably goth-looking for a woman with such a strait-laced vibe. Her focus locked onto Monique.

Instead of seeing lust in her gaze, as Monique was long accustomed to from clients—especially new ones—Victoria’s eyes held a tinge of fear and shame.

Victoria abruptly looked away. “I should leave,” were the first words she spoke after the shower. She reached for her handbag.

Well. That explained her getting completely dressed again.

“Or you could stay,” Monique said, carefully putting more distance between them so as not to spook her. “You came here for a reason.” She settled into the chair behind her desk. “Why don’t you sit, relax, and tell me what it is?”

“I can’t.” Her prim, uptight countenance was belied by the tremble in her voice.

“How about I guess?” Monique gave her a gentle smile. “You haven’t ever acted on your desires for a woman, and you came to me because you feel it’s long past time you did so?”

“No.” Her jaw clenched. “Well, not quite.” Victoria inhaled. “There’s a woman I see rather a lot. I find myself…strongly attracted to her. I might even be…well.”

In love? Falling in love? Clearly the words were hard for her. “And this woman you see often, is she a…colleague?”

“No. Not exactly.” A blush warmed the woman’s cheeks. “More than that.”

“A superior.” Monique nodded. “Ah, that complicates things.”

“Exactly.” She nodded once too, firm and hard.

“Are your feelings not returned?” Monique asked gently.

“I’m not sure feelings is the right word. I can only speak for myself, and I know I feel…more…than I should. It’s been six years now, and sometimes she looks at me as though she would love to…I don’t know, kiss me? But then she waits, waits for me to do or say something, and I don’t. I can’t. She walks away.”

“She can’t make the first move, though, if she’s your boss,” Monique said. “You understand, don’t you?”

“I’ve never been sure if it’s that, not wanting to put a subordinate in an awkward position if she’s wrong. Or not caring enough to bother. But sometimes…the looks between us are so charged, it makes it difficult to think. And once she touched the back of my hand to get my attention. It burned ! And she snatched her hand back as though she were affected too. I don’t think I’m imagining things. But sometimes I fear it’s wishful thinking? I wish I knew for sure.”

“Why don’t you tell her?”

“Because…” Victoria’s expression collapsed into embarrassment. “She might want to act on it, and I honestly don’t have a clue what to do next!”

“Ah.” Monique smiled kindly. Therein lay the nub of the issue. So to speak. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“First, I tried to look at porn—two women? It was terrible. Just so…unromantic. They were performing for the viewer. The male viewer. All those little pouts, and keeping their heels on? Who does that? Well, it didn’t feel very intimate. Then half the time a man turned up.” She recoiled. “None of those scenarios were remotely appealing. They’re not how it feels when I think of her .”

“Your principal.” Another guess. One above a vice principal, after all, would be the one who ran the school.

“It’s special , not sordid. I don’t want sordid.”

The principal, then. “How did you choose me?”

“I came across your website when I was searching for discreet women-loving-women sexual counseling. I saw your menu, and I liked how beautiful the page was. The headline that said, Ms. Carson Will Instruct You Now caught my eye, and the font was so elegant. Not tawdry at all. And I thought maybe I could just pick up some of the practical things I need to know.” Victoria’s face and neck bloomed red. “I’ve never done anything like this. I never felt comfortable enough to explore that side of myself.”

“I understand entirely.” Monique straightened. “I can promise you’ll come away with all the knowledge you need to be confident with your woman. But are you very sure you don’t want your first time to be with your lovely woman? Not me?”

Victoria’s head snapped up. “I spent twenty years as a math teacher.” Her tone was clipped. “I deal in the most absolute of disciplines. When one doesn’t know an answer, one simply researches it until competent enough to solve it. And if you can’t solve it alone, you seek out an expert for guidance. So it is inconceivable to me that my first time with her, if it ever happens, will be an awful, fumbling, amateur humiliation because I couldn’t overcome my pride to learn a few basic pointers ahead of time.”

“And that’s where I come in.” Monique nodded. “I admire your courage and your frankness. I’d be happy to help, Ms. Mills. Will you tell me which number on the menu appeals to you most?” She pushed her laminated guide across the desk to the woman.

She suspected Number One, Take Me, would be her preference, given it was often selected by questioning or straight women trying lesbian sex for the first time.

Possibly Tease Me, Number Two, if she didn’t want to be touched too much. Some people loved a featherlight caress and hints of more. Perhaps Victoria would save more physical expressions for her love.

Number Three, definitely not. She’d yet to meet someone with limited sexual experience who went straight for the soft-BDSM delights of Thrill Me. She didn’t get the impression Victoria had had many lovers, although the quiet ones could surprise you.

As for Boss Me or Worship Me? Well, Four and Five appealed to a rather specific section of women. Victoria was seeking instruction, not CEO role-plays nor prostrated devotion.

Victoria did not even look at the menu. “Number Four.”

Boss Me.

How unexpected .

Monique did so love becoming the CEO of women’s fantasies, reeling off instructions with an imperious attitude as she fucked a client. She supposed a woman like Victoria, in love with her boss, might actually want to fantasize about her superior taking her over a desk.

“Number Four.” Arousal twitched between her legs. “An excellent choice.”

“I chose it because your menu says that is your specialty, not for any other reason.” Victoria jutted her sharp chin out as if the words pained her but she wasn’t about to be defeated. “If I were in a restaurant run by a Michelin-starred chef, would I not choose the dish they’re most famous for? Their area of expertise?”

“Indeed.” Monique licked her lips. “Ms. Mills, during Number Four, I will be stern with you. Demanding. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“All right. What are your thoughts about toys?”

“No, thank you.” Victoria worried her fingers in her lap and sat straighter.

Monique nodded. “Please be aware I adhere strictly to the menu. You may touch me only if I allow it. And you will not be granted permission to enter me.”

Victoria blinked. “I thought…well, you know.”

“No, you may not do that. That’s one of my boundaries. I’m here to show you how your body can feel, how I can make you react. I may also show you where and how to place fingers and hands and your mouth on me to give a woman pleasure, but I don’t allow the intimacy of having a client inside me. If you do want that from a sexual partner, I can recommend someone else.”

“My time in this city is limited. I’m here for an education administrators’ conference. I don’t have time to research any of the names you give me.”

“So my terms are acceptable?”

Victoria paused and then nodded. “Yes.” Her pupils dilated.

“I will be taking you not in a bed but on a desk. This desk.” She trailed her fingers across the dark wood surface. “It may not be always comfortable. But I can promise, if you’re open to it, you’ll get a great deal of sexual pleasure from it.”

“I see.” Victoria’s cheeks bloomed red. “That is to say…yes.”

“If you have any relevant medical or personal issues, please let me know now. For example, physical limitations or injuries. Or words that trigger you?”

“No.” She frowned. “I had no idea sex with another woman was so complicated.”

Monique’s eyes crinkled. “Just the first time when we negotiate limits. I’d hate for you not to have a most pleasurable session. On that note, I’d like you to select a safe word.”

Victoria’s mouth fell open. “What on earth for? Do you plan on hurting me?”

“Of course not. But sometimes an experience like this can be overwhelming—and not just when it’s new either. It can stir up emotions. Or it might just feel uncomfortable and make you wish for a pause. I will stop instantly if you use your safe word. So please choose one. Nothing that might come up in conversation during sex play.”

“Binomial,” Victoria said instantly.

“Is that a nomial who has twice the fun?” Monique teased. “Or just twice the options?”

“Do not joke about math,” Victoria said, her tone haughty.

And ohhh , Monique quivered at the snap of command. “Just bear in mind that when we begin, I’ll decide what you will or won’t have. It’s part of the Boss Me package. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Victoria drew in an impatient breath. “Is that everything? I feel you’ve done more talking than…engaging.”

“I just like my clients to be well prepared. But if you’re ready?”

With her thin brows knitting, Victoria looked almost aggrieved when she said, “You may begin.”

Monique rose from her chair and moved to the other side of the desk, where she stood in front of her new client. “So, you’re the new secretary the agency sent over?”

Victoria gave her a startled glance. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not my newest employee?” Monique arched an eyebrow.

“Oh.” Victoria huffed out an embarrassed-sounding laugh. “Er. I suppose?”

“You’re not certain? Would you like to leave and return when you are certain?” Monique sharpened her tone. “I have no time for indecisive staff. I expect efficiency and…obedience.”

“What is the nature of your business?” she asked, her voice slightly hoarse.

“This is the Carson Academy. I am the principal of this girl’s high school. Which makes you my new secretary.”

Victoria gasped. Due to the school setting? Probably. Her nostrils flared. “Yes,” she whispered. “I am.”

“Good. Stand up and let me get a look at you.”

Obeying, Victoria stood a little unsteadily.

Monique ran her gaze slowly all over Victoria’s body. “Acceptable,” she said, voice low. “I don’t like your hair in that bun, though. It’s too tight. How will you be able to think with it pulling on you all the time?”

She reached for the bun, plucking out hairpins, then let Victoria’s hair down. Monique ran her fingers through the dark lengths. “Much better.” Her fingers trailed to her neck and drifted under her jaw.

Victoria swallowed.

“It is a condition of your position to assist me in all matters. And I require daily stress relief,” Monique continued. “My job is complicated and exhausting. Will you be able to aid me with that, Ms. Mills?” She plucked casually at the buttons on her own blouse as she spoke, revealing more and more of her bra.

“You would be violating federal and Nevada state law in insisting on such a stipulation,” Victoria said instantly.

Monique shot her an Are you fucking kidding me? look. “Only if it’s not consensual.”

“Yes, well, I’m just pointing out in the interests of accuracy how such suggestions of sexual impropriety in the workplace might be received in the real world.”

Some people were terrible at role-play.

Monique offered a fondly exasperated look. “This isn’t the real world. It’s Carson Academy.” She paused. “You know, Ms. Mills, it’s not too late to choose Number One.”

Victoria’s expression turned sheepish. “Sorry. I have a tendency to focus on the wrong things at times. I…believe I can overlook any flagrant employment violations and be an acceptable assistant.”

Suppressing a laugh at her extremely earnest concession, Monique said, “Very good, Ms. Mills.” She whispered against her ear, “It’s rather hot in the office today, and you’re wearing too many clothes. Why not remove your blouse, hmm? We should be able to work in comfort together.”

And in that instant, Victoria froze.

Monique tilted her head, trying to assess whether it was temporary, based on more real-world objections, or something else. “Are you well, Ms. Mills? Do you need to use your safe word?”

“I just…” Victoria gave her a lost look. “I’ve never undressed in front of anyone before.”

“Never?”

“No. I’ve not had a romantic partner.” Her expression looked tense, as if expecting to be judged.

It was Monique’s turn to freeze. No one? Ever ?

Victoria Mills was not unattractive. She supposed that shallow society might deem her plain and uptight, strict to the point of frosty. Even so, surely she’d had offers? But perhaps she’d never wanted anyone but her principal?

“Are you really sure you want to start with Number Four?” she asked gently. “Number One might be better suited? That session is soothing and sweet.”

“What if I don’t want soothing or sweet?”

“Is she not soothing or sweet, then? Your boss?” Monique asked on a hunch.

Victoria’s face creased into an unexpected smile. “No. Not in the least. She’s all about discipline and order. She tells everyone off but gets this sparkle in her eyes when she does, as if she wants to see what they’ll say back. No one ever stands up to her. Except me…” Victoria faded out, a far-off wistfulness entering her expression.

“How exciting she sounds,” Monique said easily. “I do love bossy women. I can see why you’d enjoy being with her.”

“I suspect I will.” She shook her head and began undoing her blouse with military efficiency. “Sorry, I’m making a mess of our role-play. I’ve never done it before, obviously. Anyway, let’s continue.”

“Nothing to apologize for. It’s your first time. Of course there will be a learning curve and questions for us to get to the bottom of.” Monique’s fingers landed on her own blouse. “Would it help if I were topless? Would that ease your nerves about being without your blouse?”

A choking noise sounded from Victoria’s throat. “I’m not sure I’m quite ready for that.”

“All right.” Monique suppressed her mirth. “I’ll keep my impressive breasts at bay for now.”

“Let’s just keep them in reserve.” Victoria nervously drew her shirt off and then straightened. “Principal Carson? Is this better?”

Her tone signaled a shift back to their role-play, and Monique matched her. “Let me see.” She ran her fingers over the pale-blue bra that had appeared, more practical than pretty, but she’d expected exactly that.

“I’m thinking I’d feel less stress if I could lick your nipples,” Monique said. “Is that acceptable, Ms. Mills?” She rubbed the rising nubs against the cotton with her thumbs.

“It is.” Victoria’s tone was now no-nonsense and agreeable, and it was turning Monique on to a ridiculous degree. “Yes, Ms. Carson. Proceed.”

“Excellent.” She unclipped, then slipped the bra off Victoria’s narrow shoulders, discovering a rather delightful pair of small breasts. “How divine you are. I appreciate your generosity with your boss.” She leaned forward and took the closest nipple into her mouth. The breasts were so small, much of the flesh was within tongue reach too.

Monique rolled the nipple around her mouth and sucked before changing to the other side.

Victoria gasped, swaying under Monique’s movements, but her arms were ramrod stiff. Her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides.

“Are you still amenable to this?” Monique drew back, examining those fists in disquiet.

“Yes,” Victoria said tightly. “I aim to serve you well.” Her voice trembled, and Monique realized it wasn’t anxiety but tension from arousal that was giving the woman such a strong reaction.

“Sit on my desk, facing me,” Monique ordered. “I need to consider my agenda for the next meeting.”

Victoria sat, knees primly together, and inhaled sharply.

“Spread your legs, Ms. Mills. It cannot possibly be comfortable sitting like that.”

Moving her knees barely an inch, Victoria asked tightly, “Like this?”

“No.” Monique tsked and slid both her hands between her thighs, gently parting them. “Like this. I would like you to be extra comfortable while you take dictation as I fondle you.”

Victoria’s panties were the same pale blue as her bra, and, to Monique’s satisfaction, a damp patch was visible.

“You will arrange a meeting with the school supervisor for tomorrow,” she announced as her fingers shifted up to the junction of Victoria’s thighs. Pausing just above that damp patch, she said, tone loaded with double meaning, “Is that acceptable?”

Victoria squirmed and looked enormously embarrassed as she shifted forward a little, toward Monique’s fingers, and whispered, “Yes, this…is extremely acceptable.”

“Excellent.” Monique’s fingers settled on the blue, and she began to rub a line in the wetness.

“Oh!” Victoria gasped.

She rubbed harder. “We have some parents coming in to discuss the math competition later in the year. The one in DC? Will you be able to handle them?” Her finger hooked around the edge of one leg of her briefs and pulled them aside, exposing Victoria’s swollen folds.

Victoria’s eyes flew wide and she let out the softest of startled gasps.

“Exquisite, my dear. So aroused.”

Now crimson, Victoria ground out, “I’d be happy to handle the parents for the m-m-math trip. Oh !”

Monique had dropped to her knees and now drew her fingers up and down Victoria’s folds, brushing against her clit on each pass. “I require an unimpeded view of you as I do this. It will greatly assist your principal if you let me. Do you agree?” she asked curtly.

“I…oh…yes. Principal Carson.”

Immediately, Monique pulled down Victoria’s drenched panties, dropped them on the floor, and leaned in toward the woman for a closer look.

Victoria’s pussy was all natural, not especially bushy, but wild and untrimmed. Monique wanted nothing more than to bury her face in the glistening folds peeking through those curls.

She reached out with her tongue and slowly but firmly stroked the flesh, swirling around Victoria’s clit, sliding down further to tongue her opening. She teased the juices from her, drawing them back up to her clit, and swirled once more.

Prodding Victoria’s entrance with her tongue, Monique was satisfied at the rush of moisture that coated it.

A long, low wail sounded from above.

She shifted her gaze upward to take in a most magnificent view.

The uptight woman was in ecstasy. Delight had washed her bright-red face that had sweaty hair clinging to her brow. She was trembling and bucking and saying, “oh, oh, oh” a great many times before, finally, as Monique lowered her mouth back to the source of her wetness, Victoria gasped out, “Oh, Anna.”

Anna . Her principal, no doubt. The woman Victoria had just come from fantasizing about.

Monique was delighted she’d been able to give her such pleasure. Even if Victoria and Anna never found themselves romantically involved, at least Victoria would always have this experience.

She circled her index finger around Victoria’s entrance, waiting to see if there was any hesitation.

A throaty “no” sounded from above. “Not that.”

Monique retracted her finger and instead focused on rubbing her fingers around Victoria’s swollen flesh. “I understand more than anyone. Some intimacies we save for the women we love.”

“Yes.” Victoria sighed and collapsed back on the desk. She hadn’t even denied the L-word this time.

Monique smiled. She kissed her all up her thighs, cleaning up her wetness with her tongue, and then gently closed Victoria’s legs.

Rising from her knees, Monique regarded the vice principal with her prim skirt still bunched up at her waist, the only clothing on her otherwise naked body.

Victoria watched her through barely open eyes.

“Well,” Monique said. “I’d call that a successful orientation for my new secretary.”

Victoria closed her eyes and smiled softly. “Yes. But I’d appreciate it if we could go over some things again. Just so I know I understand the intricacies of your business.”

“Absolutely.” Monique chuckled and ran dancing fingertips across Victoria’s soft white stomach. “I do love a thorough employee.”

* * *

When they came up for air later, Victoria closely watched Monique as she drew her underwear back on. “I couldn’t do what you do,” the vice principal said quietly. “And I don’t mean the sexual side. That’s not it.”

“Oh?”

“It’s the risk. The vulnerability. How anyone could be a client, even a terrible individual. Someone…mean.”

“ Mean ?” Monique repeated. “Occasionally women arrive not in the best moods, but they usually get so drawn into what we’re doing that they lose the attitude. And if they don’t lose the attitude, I kick them out.” She smiled. “Are you worried about me, darling?”

“I wouldn’t like you hurt, no. But what if you had a client who was—I don’t know—a monster? But you didn’t see it at first?”

“I’m pretty good at reading people,” Monique reassured her. “So much so, I can spot the monsters before we get to anything intimate. Even the more subtle monsters. They’re always obvious to me.” Her thoughts drifted to Phyllis Kensington, who’d had some red flags Monique had noted quite early. In the end, her disrespect had been more annoying than her actions.

“Good.” Victoria sat up and began to dress. “I’m relieved to hear it.”

“Don’t you ever have difficult students? Or one who’s dangerous? Isn’t it the same thing?”

Victoria paused. “I rarely get dangerous students. But I once had a girl—she was sixteen—declare undying devotion to me.” She gave Monique a wry look. “I was so stunned. Usually the English teachers are the ones who suffer through lesbian crushes. Never me.”

“Why never you?”

“I’m not around students enough. And I’m not the crushing-on kind. Too strict.”

“Oh, I’d disagree. I’d crush on you.” Monique shot her a winning smile.

“You’re age appropriate. She was not.” A little smile tugged at her lips. “I still remember her years later. I wonder if she’s happy and settled now. You, Ms. Carson, deal with women in all sorts of emotional circumstances. What if one of your clients decided they liked you a little too much? That must happen sometimes.”

“Every now and then. I disabuse them of the notion they have any chance with me, though.”

“Does that work?”

“Eventually. I’ll explain it to them that I don’t date clients, and, if need be, I’ll send them details for a different woman they can call for future appointments.”

“Have you ever developed feelings for a client?”

“Never.” Well, not exactly. “Not romantic feelings. I do get attached to a few clients, though. I have my favorites.” She smiled at the thought of Mrs. Menzies. “Ones I’m glad come back to see me.” She took in Victoria’s interested gaze. “I’d be glad to see you again too.”

“Now that you know I’m safe.” Victoria smirked.

“Oh, yes. Very safe. Although, next time, I could push your limits a little, if you wanted?”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Now, I should go. There’s a speech I must deliver. But thank you for everything.”

“Anytime, darling. Anytime.”