Strict Time

"I wouldn't have been so good then," I laughed, feeling drunk on her exquisite perfume. "I had to lust after you for weeks to build up the hunger."

She stroked me gently, and then laughed, reminding me that I was still in my leotard while she was totally naked.

"I imagine you have homework," I said presently, still staring up at the ceiling from my desk.

She swung her weight off me, nodding.

"I was supposed to be at rehearsal tonight too, but I texted to say I had to stay late for extra dance training," she said, that magnificent smile lighting up the office once more.

"You can't tell your classmates about this," I said, finally gathering the wherewithal to prop myself up on my elbows to look at her.

She looked at me, the picture of dewy innocence, her leotard already around her waist.

"About what? All you did was give me a lesson in keeping time," she said.

I smiled affectionately at her, and watched wistfully as those luscious nipples disappeared behind the leotard once more; she stuffed her bra in her bag.

"Well, we can't be disrupting your rehearsal," I said, finally managing to zero in on my usual professional tone as I clambered down from my desk and surveyed the ruin of my office. "Any further private tutoring should be scheduled ahead of time. For instance, I'm free on Saturday morning."

The smile shone even brighter than before.

"I need so much private tutoring," she said, "you have no idea."

After a kiss and a promise to text her availability for another private session, I watched her skip happily out of the studio and began to pick up after myself, laying all the papers on any dry surface I could find and hoping that none of them had been filled out with water-soluble ink.

"You never know," I said suddenly to myself, irrelevantly jumping back to a thought from weeks ago. "All kinds of norms are changing these days. Anyway, Broadway would be lucky to have her."