Academy of Sighs Ch. 01bybarabajagal001©
Note: This story has a rather long build-up to sexual intercourse itself (as in, not in this chapter), just as an FYI for people who aren't into that kind of thing. And yes, all characters are over 18, as always.
A warm breeze kicked up as a young man stepped out of the black taxicab that had brought him. He looked up at the formidable building before him, older than he could have believed. They said it had been brought over, stone by stone, from the Old Country, replicating a monastery building that had housed generations of chaste monks going about their daily business. Today it stood just outside a small country town in Connecticut, but somehow it seemed to bring with it the essence of medieval France, dark and foreboding.
Or perhaps that was just the darkness in his heart, reflected Adam Wallace. He was thirty-five today, and he should have been at home, celebrating with his wife, his two children, his dog. He should have been living his comfortable life, with his comfortable job, and his comfortable home, and his two comfortable cars. The problem was, there was no wife, or children, or dog, no house, no cars, and no job save the one he was beginning today. A tutor at Somerset Academy, a girls' school. He shook his head. It was laughable, embarrassing.
After the scandal back home, he supposed he should consider himself lucky to be employed at all, much less at a place that offered room and board. But still, a girls' school? They couldn't have at least found him an appointment at a boys' school? He sighed, hefting his bag. Might as well get this over with. He pulled his trunk behind him as he marched across the cobblestone walkway toward the school.
It must have been between classes. Small groups of girls milled around, collecting in doorways and beneath stone arches. Aged between thirteen and nineteen, the girls seemed sweet and nicely innocent to Adam. Their uniforms were standard for non-denominational private schools: blue plaid skirts, pleated, knee-length; white blouses with peter pan collars; blue plaid suspenders; white knee-socks; black loafers. No jewelry or makeup in sight, the girls clustered around a schoolbook here, or a notebook there, looking to be in earnest conversation about the subject matter. It was heartening, actually, to see the teenagers taking their studies so seriously.
Some of them looked up as he passed, seeming neither surprised nor interested in his sudden appearance on their campus. He walked through the little courtyard in front of the main building, his trunk clattering on the stones as he walked toward the main doors. They were large, dark, forbidding structures, and for a moment he wondered how any of the girls opened them.
The huge wooden doors were actually lighter than they looked, and he was able to hold one open with his foot as he guided his trunk inside. He had expected that the interior would be much more modern, and was therefore surprised to see the enormous planks of ancient wood that made up the hallway. At least there was an elevator, he thought, punching the button impatiently. When the elevator doors opened, he hurried inside, checking his watch. Still on time, but barely.
He hastened down the hall on the top floor and knocked on the door at the very end.
"Enter," said an imposing voice from within. Adam opened the door, wheeling his trunk in before him, and setting it inside the door. The headmaster's office wasn't terribly large, and it was dominated by an large wooden desk stacked high with papers and books. The headmaster himself was a middle-aged gentleman standing by the triple window in the back of his office that looked over the campus. He turned around when Adam came in.
"You are Mr. Wallace?"
"I hope you appreciate what we are doing for you here, young man."
"I do, sir."
"Good, good. I can tell you right now, we could use the influence of an upstanding man of your age around here."
"The girls are generally excellent students, well mannered and artistic, but we do have one major problem around here. Sex."
"I'm sorry?" Adam asked in bafflement. Wasn't this a girls' school?
"Oh, they'll certainly fool you with their demure mannerisms, but don't be fooled, my boy. I don't know how they continue to sneak them in, but after dark this school is a positive squirming, writhing...cesspool of sexual activity!" The headmaster had worked himself up a little, now red in the face and seating profusely. He extracted a purple handkerchief from his jacket pocket and mopped his forehead. "And the number of male teachers we've had to fire in the past three years! Ye Gods, it's been a nightmare. I understand that you won't, ah, be a problem in that area, but I wanted you to understand what you will be dealing with here."
Adam nodded slowly as he processed what Headmaster Tiller was saying. So they had told him, what? That Adam was a homosexual? That explained a lot.
"Headmaster, if you don't mind, it was quite a long journey, so..."
"Of course, of course. Have Helen show you your quarters."
Downstairs again, the slight, unassuming school receptionist rose from her desk to lead Adam to his room. She took him through the rest of the main building's first floor, mostly offices and the school's small infirmary. Then through a small door at the back of the building, where they emerged blinking in the sunshine, which seemed so much brighter after the dark of the building. Perhaps the girls were still on break, or maybe it had been their lunchtime, for they were still about, roaming the campus in little groups.
Only it now seemed to Adam that they were not so much little groups as little packs, packs of wild, predatory teenagers. Here was one glancing at him with a considering look in her eye; there was one with an overtly lascivious stare. Then, too, were the skirts on these girls shorter than before? One group was sitting cross-legged on the grass, their skirts slipping higher, and higher on their slim thighs, and as he passed them, he turned his head, nearly catching a tantalizing glimpse of what lay nestled between.
Suddenly he felt like Daniel in the lions' den, a doomed man surrounded by sex-obsessed little girls, all hell-bent on depriving him of his virtue. Then he nearly laughed aloud. His virtue. What a ridiculous thought! If he had ever had any, it was surely gone now. Only his craven desires remained. It was all the fault of that damned headmaster; if he hadn't mentioned the school's little...problem...Adam wouldn't be having any of these thoughts at all. He shook his head briefly. It was all in his mind.
He chanced a look at the girls lounging on the lawn again. They were just girls. Girls studying. Nothing unusual about that. No one was even taking notice of him anymore, and he let out a shaky sigh of relief, noticing that his undershirt had grown damp with sweat. Just then, he felt a prickling on the back of his neck, the odd sensation that he was, in fact, being observed.
Adam slowed his stride, turning to the left and right without seeing anyone. Then a small movement caught his eye, and he looked straight ahead to see an enormous, sprawling oak tree dominating the lawn. At about his eye level, there was a singular black shoe, attached to a white knee sock, attached to a long, graceful leg that hung down just so from a girl, perched in the bend of a thick tree branch, who was indeed watching him very intently. Her skirt had hitched up very high, showing off nearly all her upper thigh, but she seemed to be unaware of this. Her other leg was bent at the knee, foot planted solidly on the branch, and his eyes seemed inexorably drawn to that shadowed triangle between her thighs.
Then his eyes lifted to take in the rest of her. She was a taller girl, perhaps only a few inches shorter than he; slim with rounded, lovely curves. The cloud of shining, golden curls was her most distinguishing feature, so anyone who observed her might skip directly from her small breasts, over her face, to marvel over her hair, a rare natural blond through adolescence. Then, if the observer was to study her face, as Adam did next, they would see light blue eyes, serious, intelligent, occasionally wise beyond her years, and those lips, soft and lush with a hint of shine from some candy-colored lip gloss or other. As he watched her, those lips curved, so gently, into a knowing smile. He swallowed again, harder now, and felt himself begin to sweat again, cursing the late September sunshine.
Helen walked around the tree before him, utterly oblivious to the girl in the tree or Adam's notice of her. As he followed her, he took one more sidelong glance at the girl and saw that she had lifted the book that had fallen into her lap and begun reading once more. He squinted to see the spidery black lettering printed on the lavender spine. Alice in Wonderland. How appropriate.
Adam tore his gaze away from the girl to observe the rest of the school grounds, which consisted of six total buildings ranged around the enormous grassy expanse through which he and Helen now walked. Directly across from the main administrative building was the Commons, another massive stone complex that held the library, cafeteria, and several multi-purpose rooms, from small study rooms up to a grand ballroom. Of the remaining four buildings, two were on each side of the wide lawn, and each held classrooms on the first two floors, and dormitory rooms on the remaining three. All the way in the back of the compound were the long, low gymnasium building, sports fields, the track, and two rows of little cottages where many of the permanent staff resided.
Helen was leading Adam into the Commons, however, and he wondered where they were going. All the way in the back of the building, there was a door leading off to the right that had a little sign on it, saying "Staff Only Please," and a small keypad. Helen punched in a code and pulled the door open, preceding Adam down a hallway with doors only on the left side. His trunk bumped and clattered over the heavy wooden floorboards, which he noted had been left in place in the Commons despite every effort to bring the interior up to date otherwise. At the very end of the hall, Helen unlocked a door, and it swung open, inviting Adam to his new quarters.
The room was of a moderate size, long and rectangular. Directly across from the door was a sizable desk, with a large bookshelf built into the short wall on the right side. Two big picture windows completed the long wall, with a four-foot stretch of darkly paneled wall in between, where a four-poster bed sat. The short wall on the left held another large window. Turning directly to his left upon entering the room, Adam saw that this wall held more built-in shelving, a closet, and a large fireplace. The room was flooded with light from southern and western exposure, and he noticed several towering trees outside, along with a long view of the Connecticut countryside.
"The room next to yours is currently vacant; we had a last-minute...incident, and Headmaster Tiller is still searching for a replacement. The other three rooms in the hall are occupied, all by our remaining male faculty. Women faculty live in the dorms with the girls, and those who have families live in the back cottages. I'm sure you'll be introduced to your colleagues soon enough, but you'll find a Mr. Cleghorn in the room nearest yours; he teaches math. Mr. Yost is in the middle room, and he teaches history. At the far other end of the hall is Mr. Lemmon, and he is actually our head librarian. We have our housekeeping staff service these rooms on Monday mornings. Staff meals are taken in the dining hall with the girls, promptly at 7am, 12:30pm, and 6pm. If you have any other questions, you have a phone extension in your room, so please feel free to call me anytime. If that's all...?"
Adam nodded in thanks, and Helen scurried off toward the administrative building and whatever duties she was neglecting by showing him to his room. He wheeled his trunk into the room and began the business of unpacking.
Adam adjusted to life at Somerset well enough, but one thing troubled him. No matter how many leisurely walks around the grounds he took, no matter how many scans of the dining hall his eyes made, he never saw the blonde girl. It was almost as if she had been an apparition, some forgotten soul from decades past reincarnated for his titillation alone. But he recalled the easy swing of her leg and the way the breeze had fluttered the edges of her skirt, just so, and he could not believe she had been only a figment of his imagination.
The library at Somerset Academy was an absolute wonder for the avid reader. It had nearly as many floors underground as above. The aboveground floors were full of fiction, classic literature, basic research books, history monographs, coffee table photography and art books, encyclopedia sets and atlases. It had been remodeled recently, was well lit with wide aisles and regular dusting. But underground...oh, underground. Tall shelves stacked to the ceiling with old books towered over the narrow aisles. The carpet was threadbare, the ancient stones bare on the walls. The air was redolent with the musty smells of leather and old paper. Dust floated aimlessly through the air, like aquatic insects in deepest ocean. It was dark.
All this would have been enough to attract some of the Somerset girls to the library's depths...but then there were the books. Hidden on the fourth floor underground were the cavernous depths of the library's forgotten section. Here were the books so old that they had never been catalogued once the modern card catalog was introduced, and even the head librarian had little idea of what books were down there. These were books yellowed with age, with pages so fragile they might crumble when touched. These were books bound in leather, in moth-eaten cloth covers, with uneven typesetting and strange bindings.
One particular shelf on the very back wall held those books, books that had been banned for obscenity, books that had gotten their authors imprisoned once upon a time. They were no mere romance novels; some set out in print graphic depictions of the most depraved sexual acts. In generations of girls, only a few had ever found this shelf, and those that did snuck slim volume after volume out of the library in their bags, slowly going through the entire shelf as they read by firelight late at night.
Adam had gone down to the lower floors several times already, skulking among the neglected tomes, but had not yet discovered the forbidden volumes. Having the sudden desire to seek out another old book of history to peruse, he was intrigued to see a slim blonde specter disappearing ahead of him around the corner. Even as he knew he should turn back, his feet were carrying him forward, into the inky black of the bottom floor. As he stepped off the last stair, dim yellowish lights flickered on around him, barely tossing out enough light to see. He thought he heard footsteps ahead of him, a light tap tap tapping on the hardwood floors, and followed them down one aisle, and then another. Deeper and deeper, until even the lights above began to peter out and there was only an amber glow illuminating the edges of the bookshelves. Adam thought there might have been another bank of lights somewhere, but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't see them. Then from behind, a hushed whisper.
"Mr. Wallace..." He spun on his heel, but no one was there. "Pssst, Mr. Wallace..." He turned again. Nothing. He peered around the end of the shelves, slipping down the next aisle. "Mr. Wallace, over here..."
Adam shook his head briefly. Was he hearing things? He turned down another aisle, just walking slowly, straining to hear something, anything, in the soft dark. Ahead, a soft golden light bloomed, and he walked toward it, still at a moderate pace, unsure of what he would find. He slowed as he reached the end of the aisle, hoping his footsteps were not announcing his arrival, and peered around the corner.
Along the back wall was a table, wooden and extremely heavy looking. Two wall sconces were perched above it, and another sconce had been awkwardly nailed into the wooden shelving unit directly in front of it. Lit candles were in all three, throwing a soft circle of light onto the table, presumably for someone to read by. That someone was perched on the table itself, her knees drawn up and a heavy-looking book balanced on one leg, held in place by her hand, fingers splayed out wide. The fluttering light played along her inner thighs, and Adam could just barely see her hand been her legs, stroking herself playfully in long, slow motions.
In an instant, he was hard as iron. The blonde slid downward until her hips were poised at the very edge of the table, the book resting on the tops of her thighs and her head at an awkward angle to her chest, propped up on the hard stone wall behind her. The movement of her fingers was a bit more visible this way, and Adam found his hand unconsciously creeping over the hard length in his pants. He wondered what she was reading; the longer he watched, the more desperately he wanted to know. He must have watched her for nearly a half hour, her fingers circling her soft, sticky sex and her hips twitching occasionally as the pleasure nearly overtook her.
At last she let the book slide away, closing her eyes and focusing on the sensations coursing through her lithe frame. A few moments later, she was lifting her hips rhythmically, and she let out a soft, sighing moan, the first sound Adam had ever heard her make. He nearly lost control of himself right then, but fisted his hands, digging his fingernails into his palms to keep the ragged edge of sanity. He suddenly thought he was breathing too loudly, and began inhaling and exhaling with such concentration that he almost forgot where he was. The sudden darkness he was plunged into reminded him, as the blonde had evidently snuffed out her candles in preparation for her return to the world above. His eyes were still adjusting, but he thought he saw her take a second book from the shelf and shove it into the pack she had brought with her.
She swept out of her little nook, and Adam flattened himself against the shelves as she passed, hoping desperately that she wouldn't see him. A cloud of candy-coated sweetness followed her, and he felt an insistent throbbing between his legs, which he tried to ignore. At the end of the little aisle, she stopped short, turning around and fixing him with a curious stare. She said nothing, and Adam thought perhaps she couldn't see him. With a tiny sly smile, she turned back around and went the way they had both come.
Adam stood frozen to the spot for nearly a quarter of an hour, until he was fairly sure that she had gone. Then he tiptoed up to the spot where she had been, fumbling in his pocket for a match. Finding one, he struck it, holding it up to the bookshelf from which the girl's most recent acquisition had come. It held many books, thick and thin, some with authors he recognized - Flaubert, Cleland, de Sade. His eyebrows flew up as he realized the significance of this discovery, both of the books and the girl. Turning back to the table, the waning light from his match flickered over a tiny pool of moisture where the blonde had been.
Shivering a little at what he knew he must do, he let the match burn down to his fingertips, bringing a spark of pain as the light again went out. He leaned over the table and his tongue darted out, collecting the moisture that she had left behind. He felt himself swelling again with the fulfillment of his perverted wish, rolling the honeyed taste of her around in his mouth, and he knew he could wait no longer. Hurriedly undoing his pants, he had barely pulled out his handkerchief and held it over himself before he was releasing into it, breathless with the image of her shadowed sex in his mind.