Was she?
A light knock on her door told her she was about to find out.
********
“Hold on!” Miranda called out, then rose from the desk and walked to the door.
She’d locked it after her last appointment before Tristan so no one else would come in and be there when he arrived. Taking things further she’d then left a note on the door to only come in if you had an appointment.
People would assume she was wrapping things up for the year or packing up her personal belongings as she wouldn’t be coming back after tomorrow. Part of Miranda claimed that was true, the other part continued to cover her ass in case things went her way.
Which way was that? Right or wrong seemed to be the only options. On the side of wrong, she’d also locked it as an excuse to meet Tristan at the door and let him get a look at her before she went back to her desk.
“Hello, Tristan,” she greeted him as she opened the door and stepped to the side so he could come in.
“Professor Willow,” he replied as he walked past her. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“No worries, I always try to be here for my students.”
Miranda thumbed the lock on the door and walked towards her desk.
“Did you just lock the door?” Tristan stopped on his way to her desk.
Not the start she was looking for in either direction.
“You saw the note, I want to make sure I give everyone the time they deserve.” Miranda had stopped, trying to put him at ease so he would focus on her, and nothing else. God, she was pathetic. “I’ve had people popping in all day, and you’re my last appointment so I don’t want any distractions.”
“Bet you can’t wait to get out,” he nodded. “Last real day for teachers too, tomorrow this place will be pretty empty.”
“Yes, getting a little anxious.” That was an understatement
She walked past him as she spoke, drifting a little closer than she normally would and hoping he’d catch the scent of her Coco Chanel perfume and so she’d have to cross in front of him to get to her desk.
“Wow, you look different,” he said to her back as she made her way around the desk.
“What do you mean?” She tried not to let the childish wave of giddiness that his remark caused affect her tone.
“Your hair. I’ve never seen it all the way down like that.”
“Figured its my last couple of days so I could relax and literally let my hair down, no?”
“You have a lot of hair,” he commented as he walked over. “Big hair. Reminds me of the pictures of my mom from high school.”
Jesus, sixty seconds in and she already felt like a fool.
“I know, very eighties,” she left out the addition of porn star Susan’s husband had added to those words to describe her. “Guess I’m a throwback.”
“I like it,” he sent her mercurial feelings sailing the other way. “Kind of wild.”
“Don’t know about wild,” she spoke slowly to keep her voice under control. She remained next to the desk and unbuttoned her blazer, slipping it off. “Maybe Fun.”
“Definitely fun,” he agreed, his voice reflecting some of the surprise on his face as his eyes moved immediately to her impressive breasts encased in the bra which clearly showed through the shirt.
Her heart fluttered when his gaze dropped, starting at her feet, slowly roaming up her long legs, and lingering on the lower portion of her thighs hugged by the tight hem of the skirt.
His attention went back to her chest, and either he was so caught off guard he wasn’t aware he was blatantly staring, or he didn’t care if she saw him looking. Bad Miranda, as she was beginning to see herself, would take either.
Miranda made herself move, draping the blazer over the back of her chair, so it wouldn’t be a case of her staring at him staring.
“Yeah, you think I look like fun?” Easy, she warned herself. She didn’t want to be flirty right away, in fact she hoped she could refrain from it at all… or did she?”
“Seriously fun,” he nodded. “You look a lot younger, and kind of, I don’t know,” he trailed off and gave her a rueful grin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean young like you usually look old or anything like that.”
His comment drove home the difference in their age. She was a woman, a predatory one in the moment, and he was a boy.
“A woman my age will always take the word young as a compliment.” She took him off the hook.
“Age is a number,” he smiled. “Only as old as you feel, right?” He gave her a smile she swore was flirty but knew that she’d want it to be, so wasn’t sure it was real or her imagination.
“And today I thought I’d feel young,” she dropped the double entendre casually, wondering if he’d pick it up. “Its good to feel young sometimes, even playful.”
“That’s the word,” he snapped his fingers. “Playful!”
“You like playful?” Jesus she was already going too far too soon. “The look I mean?”
“I like the look on you.” He pointed downward. “Those shoes don’t say playful though.”
“My shoes?” she looked down, feigning confusion. “What do they say?”
“Hardcore,” he told her, those are some serious club shoes,” he told her, then added with a knowing smile “I see what’s going on.”
“You do?” Her stomach tightened.
“I’m not dumb,” he shook his head. “You’re going out after work, aren’t you? Little end of semester celebration?”
She relaxed somewhat; he’d given her an excuse for her outfit if she needed one.
“Got me,” she gave him a smile she felt turned out to be more inviting than wry, but emboldened by the pass he’d unwittingly given her, she didn’t care. “I’m thinking about having a good time after we talk.”
“Then I don’t want to keep you from that,” he surprised her with a wink. “Work hard play hard, right?”
“Sometimes you can manage both if you’re lucky.” She returned the wink; and was instantly unnerved by how easily she was slipping into this game.
She gestured to the one chair remaining in front of her desk. Before he sat, she returned the favor, giving him a once over of her own. Damn, he was gorgeous. High cheek bones, coupled with a rugged jaw.
Those piercing green eyes, and the scruff of a couple of days growth around that perfect and bright smile. His shock of thick curly black hair that sometimes was gelled without so much as a hair out of place, other times a tousled mess, she knew was deliberate.
He wore a plain black URI T-shirt that hugged his well-developed upper arms and stretched across both his chest and broad shoulders. As always, he wore jeans, today a faded blue pair with the presold rips that kids paid extra for.
Miranda swore the jeans, like the t-shirt were bought small on purpose, because they hugged his ass, and called attention to that ever present bulge. She knew his cock would be as magnificent as it had been in her dream.
However big it was, Miranda would make use of all of it. Back in her wild high school and college days, she was quite popular due to the combination of her looks, amazing tits, and the fact she wasn’t exactly hard to get.
Not just that, but she’d garnered a well earned reputation among the boys for giving amazing head. Miranda loved to suck cock and learning early on she had no gag reflex; there wasn’t a cock she couldn’t deep throat.