Chapter 7
Isabelle
Surprise washes over me as I see him sitting at the conference table.
But it’s a pleasant surprise. I can’t think of anyone better to have as my mentor, my manager, and my colleague.
I can’t believe James is still here and that I’ll be working with him.
He looks a little less put together than I remember.
His hair is longer, strands curl slightly at the nape of his neck, and there are slight shadows beneath his eyes.
Yet there’s an edginess to him, a feeling of hunger that wasn’t there before.
It's no longer student and teacher; it's now two adults, and I swear there's something there. Something like a spark, a tension, and I know I caught him looking at my cleavage. Watching his eyes darken as he took in my curves was intoxicating. His fumbling of his words and the way he seemed nervous talking to me gives me a little rush. The knowledge you can affect someone, it’s one hell of an ego boost, that’s for sure.
Yes, Miss
Okay, get it together, Isabelle. Be professional—he isn’t your teacher anymore; he’s your colleague.
Time to channel everything I learnt at the club; confidence, control, slow my movements down, and breathe.
Speaking of which, I'll need to reach out and find my kinky people again. Find myself a new club.
In my mentor and friend Victoria's own words; ‘Head up, tits out, and take control.’
As we settle down and pull out the induction papers, I feel a mix of trepidation and excitement. This was my dream, to teach, and now I'm finally here. But what if they hate me or I’m no good? What if I don't actually know what I'm doing?
Deep breath, Isabelle. You passed your course with excellent feedback. It’ll be ok.
James flicks through the papers and hands me a brightly coloured timetable.
I'm still getting my head around calling him James instead of Sir or Mr. Wentworth.
I like it, though. He's taking his time and explaining everything, just like he used to.
I love how he makes me feel so at ease, so relaxed.
His smile is beautiful and genuine, reaching eyes so deeply brown that it's like looking into pools of melted chocolate.
I've seen his eyes roam over me a couple of times so far. Each time is like electricity zapping through me. My stomach flips and other parts react too. It's so strange to
Alexandra Ravensbrook
see him as something other than my teacher, but he is a man. Like every other man, he has his sexual side, which intrigues me. How different is he in normal life from the teacher I got to know?
“Right, let’s get to it then, shall we?” He gathers our notes and walks to the door, his broad back to me, and I’m struck by how strong he looks.
He was always well built, but he seems stockier now, and I like it.
Time has been kind to him, and he has aged well.
It’s only been a few years, but he’s clearly like a fine wine.
As I take my fill of his thick thighs and ass, he turns to face me, holding the door open. I whip my gaze up to meet his eyes.
His smile is small but knowing, and for the first time in a long time, I actually blush. Oh shit, busted. He caught me checking him out. Heat washes over my face as I fight to gain control of my reaction, desperate to stay professional. Touché, James! I’m not the only one to appreciate the scenery.
I straighten up and smile at him, meeting his gaze head-on. His smile turns shy as he gives his head a small shake and stands back with the door open, gesturing me through.
“Where first?” I ask, my voice stronger than I thought it would be.
Yes, Miss
“Music room first. I’ll show you the equipment and go through the plans for this year's music exams. It’s changed a little from when you did them.” He strides ahead, giving me the perfect opportunity to watch his muscular ass flex as he moves.
By the end of the day, my mind is overloaded with information—logins for different software, multiple exam timetables, and tons of pupil information.
I stand there, trying in vain to log into the electronic whiteboard system when I hear the familiar tinkling of the piano keys. The beginning of Debussy’s ‘Arabesque’ takes form, and I slowly turn around to see James sitting at the piano, grinning at me.
“You think you can still play this, or did you block it out after the exam?” He laughs, and I’m taken aback that he remembers how much I grew to despise the piece.
I approach the piano and take a seat on the stool next to him, his soft citrus and amber scent envelopes me in memories and nostalgia, with the heat from his body warming mine.
My body relaxes with the remembered sense of safety and belonging, yet my insides churn with soft butterflies, catching me off guard.
Suddenly I’m back there with my schoolgirl crush, only now it’s so much more visceral and consuming. Seriously, Isabelle, get a fucking grip, woman! It’s your first day. There is to be no shagging colleagues.
Alexandra Ravensbrook
I start to play alongside him, our hands drifting over the keys in a synchronicity borne from familiarity.
His left hand crosses over my right, bringing us together, and I notice the slightly paler band of skin on his left hand where a wedding ring once belonged.
A small thrill shoots through me, followed by a scolding voice telling me to stop thinking of him like this.
How can I be happy he went through a divorce or loss? Am I really that shallow?
I close my eyes and get lost in the music, casting all my thoughts aside. As the final note fades away to silence, I open my eyes to see James watching me, his eyes dark and fixed on mine, a soft smile playing on his lips.
“Beautiful...” he whispers. Clearing his throat, he adds, “The way you play... You still play beautifully.”
Wiping his hands down his thighs, he quickly rises
from the piano stool.
“I’ll walk you to your car. You must be exhausted after your first day.
” He holds out his hand to me, and I take it.
His fingertips wrap around mine, his grip firm yet gentle, and a small shiver runs up my arm at the contact.
Our eyes hold each other’s gaze as I rise from the piano stool until he looks down, a blush dusting his cheeks.
Mr. Wentworth, this big, broad man—my teenage crush and manager—is blushing. And it is too cute to ignore. An urge to stroke his blooming cheek crosses my mind, and the absurdity of the situation amuses me.
Yes, Miss
“Thank you, but I’ll find my way,” I reply softly.
“Please, Isabelle, you have your bag and your files to carry. I’ll help you.”
We exit the building and walk across the gravel car park until we arrive at my old, beaten-up Ford Fiesta. Or Fifi, as I call her.
Yes, I name my car. What sociopath doesn't?
Retrieving my files from James, I add them to my bag in the back seat. “Thanks, James. I appreciate the help.”
“Anytime. I’ll always help you if you need.” His expression offers more than he’s saying on the surface, and a moment stretches as I imagine what else he could help me with. He clears his throat, snapping me out of it. “Apart from marking homework, which is all on you!”
I laugh and get into my car, smiling at him through the window before he casually walks away to a black Audi. I slump into the seat and sigh.
Today has been a day and a half! Not only taking in all the normal first-day information but also navigating whatever this is between me and James. It may be nothing, and I’m probably imagining it, but there seems to be a pull that he appears to feel as well.
Our plan is for me to shadow for the first couple of days to get to know the students before diving in and taking over, as much as I think I’m ready.
Alexandra Ravensbrook
Maybe this term will turn out to be a different sort of fun.
James greets me as I walk into the staffroom for my second day and holds up a mug in offering. I walk over to the kitchen area and gladly take the hot tea from his hands.
“Tea, two sugars, and a drop of milk,” he says as he adds sugar to his own mug.
“I’m impressed. How did you know?”
He leans back against the countertop, sipping his own drink, and shrugs. “I saw how you made your tea yesterday morning during our induction meeting.”
I’m speechless. No one has ever just noticed and remembered. Even my uni housemates took a couple of months to remember my tea order.
“Well, thank you. That's very observant of you,” I manage to croak out.
“I pay attention to the important things,” he laughs, his eyes crinkling up at the sides, and a slight dimple appears in his cheek. Once again I’m lost in those espresso eyes. “And there’s nothing more important than the first tea or coffee of the school day! Come on, let’s go. We’ve
Yes, Miss
got double music theory this morning, and you’re teaching it.”
“Whoa, what about shadowing?” I squeak, mortified at the sound of my own voice. Vic would be ashamed of me. Not very strong or independent of me.
“I’ll be there if you need me. You’ll be fine.”
The week goes fast once I'm thrown into the bustle of the teaching day, and as usual, the students try to take the piss out of the new teacher. But they soon realise I’ve been here before—literally in this classroom.
The other teachers have been welcoming, though most have changed since I was here three years ago.
James is there to help and jump in if needed, but there are times I see him zone out, lost in his thoughts.
As the students file out for lunch, I see him sitting hunched at the desk, frowning down at his phone screen.
“James?” I ask tentatively, gently placing my hand on his forearm. It’s hard not to focus on how strong and firm he feels under his shirt. “Everything ok?”
He looks up from his phone screen, startled, like he thought he’d been alone. His eyes look flat and empty. “Sorry, Isabelle. Yes, all good, thanks.” He gives a tight, small smile that screams anything but ‘all good’. It feels
Alexandra Ravensbrook