Sweltings Academy Ch. 09

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Mr. Ash visits Harmony's room to "check on her grades".
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Part 9 of the 15 part series

Updated 10/20/2022
Created 08/03/2007
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Chapter 9: Suspicion

Twenty minutes had ticked away while I sat and hoped that Harmony would enter her room. I'm not sure what brought me here, because I make it a practice not to enter their rooms, but I felt like seeing her. The week that had passed since our last session seemed like an eternity. Of course, I had to make up a pretense of some kind, so I chose her falling grades.

My eyes drifted for at least the twentieth time to a stuffed polar bear on her bed. It was fluffy and cute, and the thought of her cuddling with it at night made me feel inexplicably jealous. I swallowed as I suddenly remembered how she looked in her pajamas. The picture in my mind of her breasts pressing against the thin fabric of her camisole made my hands curl convulsively around the sandalwood-scented candle I was clutching. It smelled familiar, somehow intimate.

The door crashed open, and Harmony dashed inside, slamming it behind her. I dropped the candle in surprise, but quickly managed to replace it on her nightstand before she noticed me. She leaned against the door, breathing heavily and closing her eyes. I cleared my throat and she jumped, crossing her arms protectively across her body.

"Mr. Ash! Oh God, I'm sorry, I... did I do something?" She looked terrified. I unfolded myself from her brown beanbag chair and looked at her curiously.

I raised an eyebrow as I stepped closer to her. "Not that I'm aware of," I remarked. I could smell her delicate cinnamon-scented shampoo from where I was standing and had to fight an impulse to bury my face in the spun gold of her hair. Some of the panic drained from her face, and I found myself swimming in her eyes. This was no good. I blinked and cleared my throat. I remembered that she actually had "done something" or I would have no reason to be here. "That is," I continued in my best attempt at a level tone, "I am a little concerned about your grades."

There was no mistaking it. She breathed a sigh of relief and actually smiled. Then she rushed over to one of her drawers, grabbed a towel, and began gathering shower supplies, babbling furiously. "Oh, yes, I know they're not very good! Well, you see, sir, I'm just adapting to life here, and everyone's so nice and I just keep having all these things to do and I keep forgetting to do stuff. I'm going to do better, I promise." Her smile was full of cheer and sunshine, but something seemed horribly artificial about it. "I just got finished jogging, actually, sir, and I was going to take a shower. Is that okay?"

Now there was a hint of desperation, but I pretended not to notice. "Yes, Miss Adair," I replied. "I will be waiting here to continue this discussion when you return." Her smile faltered, but she dashed out the door before I could call her on it.

It was another twenty minutes before Harmony came back from the shower, her skin pink and her hair even longer wet than dry. She was absorbed in rubbing her hair with a towel and gave a surprised squeak when she noticed me still in her room.

I put on my best stern face. "Miss Adair, you certainly took your time in the shower. You weren't avoiding me, were you?"

"No sir," she squeaked again. She took a breath when I didn't say anything, and explained, "It takes me a long time to wash my hair. It's long."

I found my hand reaching toward her, lifting a few dripping strands of it toward me before I realized what I was doing. I coughed and released her hair. "Yes, I see, Miss Adair. Very well. Now can you explain to me exactly why your grades have begun slipping?"

She sank onto her bed and resumed her efforts to towel-dry her hair, avoiding my eyes. "Sir, I've never been away from home before. I keep having these commitments come up. I'm not used to having to organize my time. I promise I'll do better."

I came to stand in front of her and gently grasped her wrists to stop her from tousling her nearly-dry hair with the towel. She looked up at me for an instant, and then dropped her eyes. Her face flushed red, and I realized with a start that my cock was at eye-level for her. It amazed me that she responded so intensely to me. She abruptly got to her feet, freeing her arms from my half-hearted grasp, and wrapped her arms around my neck. She buried her face in my chest, and my throat thickened at the sensation of her nearness. I rested my hands on the small of her back. She raised her head, and I felt the softness of her breath on my earlobe as she asked me to hold her. I pressed her against me and felt her breathing quicken against my neck. I looked down sharply to discover that she had tears coursing down her cheeks, and I felt a moment of blind panic. Then she buried her face in my chest again, and I could think.

Maybe thinking wasn't exactly what I did, though. I kissed the top of her head, and suddenly I felt compelled to envelop myself in her freshly shampooed hair. Before I could stop myself, I released her lower back and sank my fingers into the cool, wet ocean of blondeness. I brought my lips down against her head again, and this time I didn't move my face away afterwards. I hadn't realized before just how appealing the scent of her hair was.

Her fingertips brushed my cheeks, and I brought my head up. She stared into my eyes for a moment, and I felt sure she was going to kiss me. My sanity crashed back into me. I could not kiss a student. So I leaned down and kissed her forehead, and then her eyelids. She sighed and smiled, and then she settled for pressing her lips against my neck. My pulse quickened, and she began to flick her tongue against my jugular. She dragged her lips downward and closer to my chest, moving her hands to try to unbutton my shirt. I disentangled my hands from her hair and grasped her wrists, halting her hands but not her mouth. She nibbled and sucked and licked, trying to tease me into releasing her, but by some miracle, I managed to hold on. I was pretty sure I couldn't just take her in her bedroom, either, whether I was principal or not.

Finally she looked up, frustration evident on her face. "Mr. Ash, why won't you let me undress you? I want more of you. Isn't that why you came here tonight? My grades aren't really that bad, are they?"

She had scored a point, and my sudden stillness enabled her to free her hands from my grasp. She pressed herself close to me again, sliding her arms up my back. Her breasts were pressing warm and firm against my ribcage, and my stiffening rod was sinking into the soft flesh of her lower stomach. She untucked my shirt deftly. Her fingertips raking against the skin of my back left trails of fire. I looked down at her face and saw her overwhelming desire. "Please, sir," she murmured. "I never stop wanting you." Then her lips were against my neck again, and she slid her hands from my back to my stomach. She brought them to rest over my chest, a place she had never spent much time exploring before. The white fabric of my shirt moved in strange patterns with her hands underneath it, and the sensation of her shower-warm hands against my body drove any rational thought from my head. Her mouth moved to the last inch of flesh above my shirt, and she dipped her tongue teasingly beneath it. I gasped with the pleasure, and she giggled into my skin.

She stopped caressing my chest for a moment, turned her palms so that the backs of her hands were against my skin. She used her knuckles to tease me for a moment, and then she grasped my shirt and ripped. A small growl escaped her, as she tore the fabric away and brought her lips against my newly exposed flesh.

Before she could twine her arms around me again, I slipped one arm behind her shoulders and one behind her knees. I lifted her into my arms and carried her the three steps to her bed. She smiled radiantly and wrapped her arms around my neck, triumphant. I sank down onto the bed with her still cradled in my arms, sideways across my lap. My back was pressed against the wall. Harmony's face was pressed against the left side of my neck, her tongue tracing circles that increased in intensity when my right arm trailed down to brush a long line down her side. I meant to briefly touch her, but couldn't seem to stop myself from moving my hand back up to squeeze her breast. She moaned, and the sound was muffled by my skin. I chuckled, and then I dipped my thumb under the fabric of her navy cami to graze her taut nipple. Her tightening flesh under my thumb was one miracle I never seemed to tire of experiencing.

She pulled away from my neck and looked at me with an unidentifiable expression. Her eyes were swimming with something, and her lips were flushed and parted. I glanced down the line of her body and saw the ragged edges of my shirt framing her lush curves, curves that were still obvious through her pajamas. I swallowed hard and brought my eyes back to her face, finally unable to tear my eyes from her lips. I licked my own lips and felt myself drawn magnetically down to hers. I released her breast and brought my hand up to cup her cheek as I lowered my head. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and I hovered above her lips for just a moment. The heat of her mouth was inches away.

My voice came out in a ragged attempt at evenness. "Yes, Miss Adair, your grades really are that bad."

I pulled away. My lips were tingling and my breathing uneven. She opened her eyes, and the expression in them made me wish she hadn't. She looked wounded at first, then mad enough to spit nails. Her fists clenched, and I think she would have actually hit me if I hadn't stopped her. I reached for my mask of amusement at the same time that I reached for her wrists.

"Miss Adair, maybe you aren't as perceptive as our fine academy originally supposed." Her glare became even more pronounced, but I risked her fists of fury to trace the line of her cheekbone with my thumb as I added, "Otherwise you would have undoubtedly deducted that the erection pressing into your side is irrefutable evidence that your hypothesis is correct. My coming here tonight has nothing to do with your grades."

She went very still and looked at me with that odd expression again. She asked, "What did you come here for?"

I disentangled myself from her and stood beside her bed. She was still stretched across it, looking at me. I sighed and answered, "Because I missed you, Miss Adair. But I'm afraid that when we are not in the parameters of our scheduled meetings, I am not supposed to touch you."

She smirked. "But you did touch me."

"I apologize." Then I knelt beside her bed, looking up into her face. "Miss Adair, I think it may be a good idea if you visit me in my office tomorrow so that we can find a solution to this grade problem of yours."

Her face clouded over. "Sir, I wish I could, but I have a prior commitment."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? What is it?"

"It is a field trip with Coach Marshal." She was avoiding my eyes.

I looked at her sharply. Then I stood and crossed my arms over my chest. "I see. Well that should be most educational. I will need to see you on Sunday, then, Miss Adair. You may tell Coach Marshal so if he intends to schedule any further 'field trips.' "

"Yes, sir," she responded.

"Good night, Miss Adair," I finished, and left the room.

A field trip with Coach Marshal? On a Saturday? It seemed unlikely. I had heard rumors that Coach Marshal seduced students without official permission, but I confessed to myself that I thought Harmony was immune to his brand of seduction. What did she want with him?

I prepared to push the thought from my head, but it was replaced by an even more disturbing one. Harmony said she had been jogging. If so, why had she been wearing her school uniform? I felt storm clouds forming in my head as I made my way back to the office, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.

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