Mr. Bailey

"Please what, Miss Peterson?" He was quiet himself.

I was snapped back to reality by the sound of the school bells, screaming for the end of lunch. I skittered away and pulled myself off of the floor. Mr. Bailey rose gracefully, dusting off his pants and the arms of his blazer.

"Miss Peterson, don't be late."

I nodded and ran for the door.

I was perfectly incapacitated in my final class. I couldn't be bothered to pay attention or focus on even the tiniest detail. I gave up in frustration and excused myself to the nurse's office. She took my symptoms for the beginning of the flu, although the thermometer beeped a resounding and healthy "no". Normal temperature. I was ushered to a cot in the back room until school ended, at which time I assured her my Mother would be picking me up. The door closed behind me and I was left alone with my thoughts.

"Please what, Miss Peterson?" Mr. Bailey repeated pulling my chin to face him. "What do you want?" Gruff, definitely gruff.

I leaned toward him, only slightly, just enough to feel his breath. "Miss Peterson?" His hand kneaded the flesh between my shoulder blades.

"Kiss me."

His mouth descended on mine. He was hungry and forceful, pulling at me and searching. His hand wove its way between my breasts and mashed each one.

He faded away. I knew I had the wrong Mr. Peterson. It was more like Felton Paul from last year, who I had let get to second base and nearly third before my better judgment had set in.

I hadn't been imagining a man, but rather an amateur. I was dismayed and flustered. Touching myself to this incomplete image was doing me no good except to put me in a bad mood.

~*~*~

I waited for most of Mr. Bailey's class to file out, before entering. Persephone Davies was leaning across Mr. Bailey's desk with her décolletage spilling out of her too-tight school uniform. He sat quietly marking a paper as she watched enamored.

I pictured a huge light bulb appearing above my head as I clued into Persephone's ulterior motive. I stood in the doorway, gnawing at my lip as I watched her hips sway along the side of the desk. No wonder she had been riding me for weeks, Persephone had a crush on him. And here she was pushing herself on him like some common harlot. There was no way he would ever entertain that behavior, right?

I felt my forehead start to ache and it occurred to me that I had been wearing an extreme frown. I imagined I looked something like Elmer Fudd and tried to rub the wrinkles away before they set and I looked that way for life. At least that's what Abby had always warned me against.

"Miss Peterson?" Mr. Bailey looked up at me through his eyelashes. "Have a seat."

Persephone pulled herself up from her deep lean as Mr. Bailey offhandedly passed her the paper he had been marking. He didn't look at her. "This is terribly sloppy Ms. Davies. I suggest you spend less time testing the boundaries of the dress code and more time on your writing skills. I expect better work than this sub-par dribble."

Persephone visibly winced, as though his assault had been physical and not only verbal. "Yes Sir."

"You are excused Ms. Davies." Mr. Bailey gave Persephone a look that even made me cower and she exited with her head down and cotton candy lips trembling.

Mr. Bailey sighed and then waved me forward. "Bring your work, stand just here." He pointed to the other side of his desk. I stood where instructed and set my essays down in front him.

"Ms. Peterson, I did not say to drop your papers all over my desk. Pick them back up."

I did as I was told and waited for his next instruction. "Now begin reading aloud and I will tell you when to stop."

By the beginning of my second essay my legs were trembling. It seemed Mr. Bailey stopped me at every other sentence to edit or correct, question or clarify. My back had begun to cramp and I was feeling light headed. I could practically hear my bed calling my name.

Dani...

I flushed in anger as Mr. Bailey interrupted me again. He was questioning my character assessment in his lilting English accent when I braced myself on his desk.

"Miss Peterson?!" His voice rose an octave in surprise, "What on earth is the matter with you?" He had stood to brace me by the shoulders. I couldn't help but laugh to myself at the absurdity of the situation.

"I'm sorry Sir. I'm just so tired. I've been lightheaded for the better part of two days."

He nodded solemnly, "Alright, I can finish this on my own, I suppose. Come along, let's get you home."

I froze. The car. Again. "I can take the bus."

"You most certainly cannot. Pick up your things, we are leaving." He held the door for me as we exited and I found that he kept substantially closer to my side than I felt was necessary.

I was sweating bullets as we approached his vehicle, parked alone in the lot. A strong breeze danced around my plaid skirt and blew my hair across my face.

The smell of Mr. Bailey carried on the wind. The perfect mixture of strong, clean man filled my nostrils and I attempted to sniff it like cocaine.

I was headed for trouble. How could I keep this obsession in check when he was constantly tempting me?

As if on cue, Abby came jogging through the parking lot, flashing far more thigh than was appropriate per school dress code. She stopped short at the sight of Mr. Bailey, which I can imagine must have looked very peculiar, "Danica?"

Yes, very, very peculiar.

Mr. Bailey and I came to a halt and I stared at her for the briefest of moments, "Hey Abby." I felt my eyes tighten with worry as she glanced between myself and Mr. Bailey.

"I, uh..." She directed her attention to the asphalt and frowned, "Felton is about to leave soccer practice. He offered us a ride." She met my eyes with a sly grin. I was sure the only way she had secured that ride was by promising my involvement. Felton had been attempting to get me back in his car since our initial incident.

I cringed. Controlling my teenage impulses for fifteen minutes or attempting yet again to control Felton's? The scales were still wavering and I had to choose.

"Miss Connelly, while I'm sure Miss Peterson is more than appreciative of the offer, I must insist that I take her safely home. I am responsible for her being here so late, after all." Mr. Bailey's words laid any protest to rest. My shoulders dropped as the realization hit me. I didn't have to decide. Mr. Bailey had done that for me. I had half a mind to saunter off with Abby without so much as a glance backwards just to prove he couldn't push me around. I turned to face him, fully prepared to explain why I wasn't going to be going with him.

He appeared angry. I had never seen him anything but fully composed. This was unsettling, to say the least.

I waived a dejected goodbye and held my hand to my ear in the universal sign for "I'll call you" to a rather miffed Abby as I followed Mr. Bailey to his car. He opened the gold door to his vintage Mercedes and directed me inside.

It was a beautiful day out, much the contrast to the gloom and doom of the first time he took me home. He lowered into the driver seat, shut the door soundly and turned toward me. My hands tingled with anticipation and I looked sidelong at Mr. Bailey.

"Felton Paul is not the kind of young man you should be hanging out with Danica."

I tried my best to stifle a laugh. If only he knew my deep distrust of the "young man" and his roaming hands. "I'm well aware Mr. Bailey."

A frown spread across his handsome face and he turned away and started the car with gumption. He drove faster than normal, which was average compared to the careful and calculated "Granny" driving he seemed more inclined to.

"Mr. Bailey?" I chanced a look in his direction to find him decidedly focused on the road.

"Miss Peterson..."

I sighed, "Are you mad at me?"

He blinked and looked at me once, twice, then turned his focus back to the road. "Danica, why would you think that?"

"I uh, I don't know. You seem upset."

"I am not upset. Most definitely concerned and slightly puzzled. But upset? No."

I nodded, turning my attention back to the passenger window. The car turned down the street to my house and pulled into the empty driveway. It was time for me to make a quick exit. I snatched my bag from the floorboard and scrambled for the door handle. It didn't pop and it took me a moment to realize I had to pull the door lock up. I fumbled with it. Each passing second I felt more cagey and frantic. Was it hotter in this damn car?

My heart was pounding in my ears. My palms were sweating. I felt faint.

Jesus Dani, calm down!

"Danica?" His hand wrapped around my forearm and I gasped. His fingers were warm against my clammy skin. They pressed in as his grip tightened and I watched as he pulled my arm toward him. His other hand swept past my field of vision with a spectacular amount of grace and laid hold to my chin. He directed my gaze to him. "Danica, are you alright?"

I stared at him dumbly. Why did he do this to me? I took a few breaths, gathered my thoughts and looked into his eyes, "It's been a long week."

Mr. Bailey pursed his lips, "The week is not even over yet. It's only Thursday Miss Peterson."

It didn't escape me that he had gone back to using my last name. "Yes sir. I'm well aware." I turned back to the door, but found he still held my arm in his grip.

"Are you sure you're alright? You are exceptionally fidgety today and you seem ready to fall at a moment's notice. It is obvious no one is home," He waived his free hand at the empty driveway, "When will your parents be arriving?"

The heat radiating off of my cheeks was telling, "They are out of town until after next weekend."

Mr. Bailey looked me over with a slow nod. He pinched the bridge of his nose and huffed. It was a tense moment. "Danica...I can't simply leave you here in your current state. You've practically fainted twice today, that I even know of." He put the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. "Put your seat belt on."

I did as I was told and cringed, "Where are we going?"

"Ms. Peterson I assume you are able to keep a discretionary silence?" He looked over at me as he turned from my street and into traffic. "We are going to my flat. I imagine you can understand the sensitive nature of this situation."

I nodded gravely and tried not to throw up.

~*~*~

Mr. Bailey lived on the top floor of a five story condominium downtown. We squeezed into the ridiculously claustrophobic elevator and I tried to keep my lightheaded swaying from being too noticeable as the tiny box shot up into the heavens. When the doors opened I shot out into the carpeted hall and practically doubled over. As Mr. Bailey stepped into the hall and waited for me to regain my composure, I realized he seemed to be growing accustomed to my crazy behavior.

I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Mr. Bailey opened the door to apartment 521 and I found myself peering inside with express distrust. Not of him, rather of myself.

A hand on the small of my back gently pushed me forward, "Come along Danica..."

It was a beautiful place. Dark hardwood floors led through the hall into the kitchen on the left and further on into the living room. There was a deep grey, plush rug running the length of the hall way that matched the granite in the kitchen. The right side of the hall held a long bookcase that was packed to the brim with books old and new. I ran my fingers along them, glancing over the titles. I could spend days here, buried in pages.

And maybe Mr. Bailey.

The place smelled like him. I had to fight the urge not to inhale too deeply. I spied an open door in the living room and felt flutters. His bedroom.

Ah, Jesus, was that his arm wrapping around my hips? I glanced down.

Why yes. Yes it was.

He guided me toward the living room and deposited me on the couch. "Now lie down". He pulled the throw that had been placed just so across the back of the couch and handed it to me. "I can tell you're exhausted. I'll make some tea and then you will rest until I am sure you are quite better."

"Sir you don't have to do this." I was far too nervous to sleep anyway. For the first time in days I was wide awake. "I can call Fenton," Did I really just offer that as an option? "Or take the bus home or something. It's what I would have done on any other day."

His brows knit together and his strong jaw clenched. Handsome and ... menacing. "The matter is not open for discussion Danica."

I was more than slightly startled at the venom in his words. Anger shot up my esophagus and before I could stop it the words flew out of my mouth, "Well that's just ridiculous. You can't hold me here."

He leaned back and looked down his nose at me. A small smile lifted at the corner of his mouth and I didn't miss the threat behind it. We stared each other down. I was not going to look away. I was pissed, hungry, tired, frustrated...

Horny...

Don't look away Danica... Don't do it... Don't you dare...

I looked away. His smug snort made my cheeks burn. His shoes clicked toward the kitchen and shortly I heard cabinets opening and closing. That was that. He had won again.

What an arrogant bastard! How could I be attracted to that?! My vision became blurry and I realized I was moments from crying. This couldn't get worse. I turned away from the hallway to the windows along the far wall. I had to calm down. A few deep breaths and I would be fine. Just breathe. My gaze rose up to the ceiling as I attempted to will the tears back to where they came from. My heart finally stopped pounding and I felt a little more stable, but the tears wouldn't dissipate.

The couch dipped beside me and I knew my time was up. I heard the clinking of glass on wood and knew he was putting mugs down on the coffee table. I was stronger than this. I was more disciplined than this. And yet, here I was being a crybaby.

"Danica." His hand touched my knee and it was too much. I felt a fat salty tear roll over and knew I was done for. His hand curled under my chin and dragged my gaze toward him, but I found I couldn't look him in the eyes. "Danica look at me."

I shook my head. Nope, not happening. This was mortifying enough as it was.

"Danica look at me or so help me..."

I reluctantly looked up. I felt pathetic. I had no power against him at all.

"Now explain to me why you are crying."

"I'm really tired." It wasn't a lie...

"And why else?"

I took a deep breath. Now was as good a time as any. "I don't know. You...you drive me insane."

He raised his eyebrows at that one. "Insane in what way Danica?"

I shook my head. That was all he was getting from me today. I had already said too much.

"Insane in what way?" He leaned closer to me. His lips had formed the words but I barely heard the sound. Everything faded away and I knew my control was about to slip.

He opened his mouth. His lips softly formed my name and I glanced up to see his dark eyes watching me closely. They were my undoing.

I kissed him. Quickly, softly. Nothing more than sweet lips and my frantic breathing. The kiss was everything I wanted and had dreamed of and somehow I was still hungry. I wanted more. I bit his lip. I pulled it slightly and then let go, sighing.

My eyes snapped open and my hand flew up to cage my reckless mouth.

What the hell have I just done?

He licked his bottom lip, staring at me all the while. My breath hitched when his arm wrapped around my back and his fingers painfully dug into my hip.

I found myself on my back before I even realized what had happened. Mr. Bailey's lips latched onto mine and when his tongue sought entry, he found no resistance from me. His kiss was agonizing, slowly exploring and stroking my mouth. His arm tightened around my back lifting my body to meld deliciously into his. I felt like I was dreaming. I was vaguely aware of strong hips settling between my thighs until he had started a torturous rhythm. He ground into me with all of the methodical grace of a jungle cat. I laced my hands through his thick dark hair. It felt silky under my fingertips. How many times had I imagined doing just this and yet it never held a candle to the real thing? He groaned into my mouth, dark and grating. I was feverish with need, whimpering in return.

My skirt rode up my hips and I was sure that at this rate I would be leaving a particularly embarrassing wet spot on his pants, but in the moment I couldn't care less. He was rubbing his bulge against my clit with slow determination. It was almost painful. Wonderfully, mind numbingly painful. I tried to speed up, begged him to, but he only pushed my thighs farther apart and laid a firm hand on my ribs to still me. His tongue slipped under mine and gave a long hard stroke. A shiver shot down my spine and delved into depths I hadn't even known existed. I suddenly couldn't breathe. I was suffocating in pleasure. I pushed, panting around his mouth to fill my lungs with air. He didn't stop, instead transferring his feverish kissing to my neck. I moaned loud and slightly begging. He laid deep kisses down the vain I was sure was popping out from under my skin and traced my collar bone with his tongue. I was roiling with need as his fingers traced over my flesh from nape to shoulder.

He slid his free hand up from my rib cage to cup my right breast. I heard a button pop and it crossed my mind to stop the needless destruction of my clothing. That was right up until his fingers liberated my breast from my bra and he granted my nipple a kiss. I watched as he swirled his tongue around, his dark eyes looking up to meet mine. He smirked and then sucked the point into his mouth, diverting his attention back to the task at hand. He flicked my nipple gently at first and then a little harder and a little harder until he drew a breathy whine from my lips. More popped buttons and then he switched sides, granting my left breast the same treatment until I was writhing under him. He crawled up my body and kissed me soundly once more. His hand slid up my naked thigh and he hitched my leg around his waist.

"Danica," he breathed into my ear, "cum for me." He swung his hips around and dug into my pussy with particular force.

I was so close. My stomach was contracting in anticipation of the intense orgasm just below the surface. He hit my spot again just right and his deep moans threw me into a tailspin. "Mr. Bailey," I was begging now, "Please..." He growled, the sexiest sound I swear I've ever heard, as he swung his hips again.

Boom...

My lungs stopped working as my body exploded. I couldn't do anything but shudder and ride the waves of pleasure. I can die happily now.

Finally air returned to my lungs and I moaned wantonly into his ear, no longer caring how I sounded. My back arched, seemingly out of my control and his hand wrapped around and supported me as I heard him groan and curse to himself. His fingers dug into my thigh as he pumped faster, harder, riding me until he cried out and came. He nipped and licked the soft tendon between my neck and shoulder, forcing my body to jolt with the last of the energy I had left.

As our breathing slowed he sighed and looked up at me. I smiled at his beautiful eyes as I faded from consciousness.