Motivational [2/?]
anonymous
October 18 2009, 12:06:15 UTC
"Truly," he said quietly, rubbing his sock-clad ankle against her shin in languid strokes, "you tell me that you can be enthusiastic. But I hope you realize, Miss Bonnefoy, that enthuism alone will not be enough to make a satisfactory effort."
"Oh?" the toe of his shoe was hooked behind her ancle, lifted her foot to let it rest on his leg as she felt a sock-clad foot nose its way up her leg, tickling the inside of her knee before it continued upwards against her thigh. Mr. Kirkland was resting his face on crossed hands, elbows propped up on his desk, looking nothing like he was probably breaking at least five different school rules and some professional ethics on top of it. "Enthusiasm must necessarily be accompanied by rapt attention," and she twitched as his toes pressed against where her thighs met, demanding access that she granted by shifting in her seat, eyes never leaving his face, "tell me, Miss Bonnefoy, are you easily distracted?"
"I think," she paused, uncertain of what kind of answer he expected from her as his foot came to rest between her thighs, not reaching the entire way up to her panties but rendering her acutely aware of how she never had been this close to a man, and leaving absolutely no doubts about his intentions for touching her like this. She realized, as she struggled with finding something to say, that she was breathing quicker than normal; her fingers were trembling on their hold of her seat.
"I think, Miss Bonnefoy, that your inability to give me a simple 'yes' or 'no' might be evidence enough thereof."
"Yes," she agreed, meeting those captivating eyes as she pressed her legs together and trapped his foot between her thighs, "I think you are right, sir."
"And what should we do about that, you think?"
"I don't know, sir," she answered, and moved a bit forward in her seat.
He closed his eyes, sighed, and pulled his foot back with slow intention; it trailed down her leg and rested against hers before it disappeared back beneath his desk. Seychelles shifted in her seat, body tingling still tingling at the foreign touch seeking her most private. "Miss Bonnefoy," he said, face betraying nothing even as she detected a fain quiver in the way he pronounced her name, "I think our problem requires a more physical examination. Would you be so kind as to come over here?"
He pushed his chair back as she rose and slowly made her way over to the other side of the desk, him still seated in front of her with his legs properly crossed, the polished wooden surface behind her.
"Do sit down," he said, and she did as she was told, raising to her toes so that she could push herself back to sit on the mostly empty desk. Mr. Kirkland reached out a hand to rest it on her knee, but his smile was warm as she met her eyes. "This is a perfectly normal procedure," he assured her, and she smiled back at him as he shuffled his chair closer. "Now, please take off your shirt."
She was almost surprised by how steadily she managed to push the straps of her dress of her shoulders, loosen her tie for then to pull it away to let it drop beside her on the desk, and started unbuttoning her shirt. She was acutely aware of how the thin material was keeping some part of her hidden, something perhaps indecent that was meant for boys her age, perhaps, not for men twice as hold as her - whose eyes were set to her fingers working, the buttons parting the fabric to reveal a narrow glimpse of skin. It was suddenly opened wider when she pulled the rest of the fabric up from the waistline of the dress; she undid the final two buttons and shrugged the shirt off her shoulders, finally sitting up straight to look at Mr. Kirkland again.
Mr. Kirkland scrutinized her with a look as unaffected as though he was a professional physician. After a minute, he sat up in his chair and reached up towards her. He stretched his hands beneath her arms, only touching her when his fingers gripped her bra, and unhooked it. He reached up to her shoulders, then, and carefully pulled the straps down until she was bared completely, and he was holding the last garment hiding her in one hand.
"Truly," he said quietly, rubbing his sock-clad ankle against her shin in languid strokes, "you tell me that you can be enthusiastic. But I hope you realize, Miss Bonnefoy, that enthuism alone will not be enough to make a satisfactory effort."
"Oh?" the toe of his shoe was hooked behind her ancle, lifted her foot to let it rest on his leg as she felt a sock-clad foot nose its way up her leg, tickling the inside of her knee before it continued upwards against her thigh. Mr. Kirkland was resting his face on crossed hands, elbows propped up on his desk, looking nothing like he was probably breaking at least five different school rules and some professional ethics on top of it. "Enthusiasm must necessarily be accompanied by rapt attention," and she twitched as his toes pressed against where her thighs met, demanding access that she granted by shifting in her seat, eyes never leaving his face, "tell me, Miss Bonnefoy, are you easily distracted?"
"I think," she paused, uncertain of what kind of answer he expected from her as his foot came to rest between her thighs, not reaching the entire way up to her panties but rendering her acutely aware of how she never had been this close to a man, and leaving absolutely no doubts about his intentions for touching her like this. She realized, as she struggled with finding something to say, that she was breathing quicker than normal; her fingers were trembling on their hold of her seat.
"I think, Miss Bonnefoy, that your inability to give me a simple 'yes' or 'no' might be evidence enough thereof."
"Yes," she agreed, meeting those captivating eyes as she pressed her legs together and trapped his foot between her thighs, "I think you are right, sir."
"And what should we do about that, you think?"
"I don't know, sir," she answered, and moved a bit forward in her seat.
He closed his eyes, sighed, and pulled his foot back with slow intention; it trailed down her leg and rested against hers before it disappeared back beneath his desk. Seychelles shifted in her seat, body tingling still tingling at the foreign touch seeking her most private. "Miss Bonnefoy," he said, face betraying nothing even as she detected a fain quiver in the way he pronounced her name, "I think our problem requires a more physical examination. Would you be so kind as to come over here?"
He pushed his chair back as she rose and slowly made her way over to the other side of the desk, him still seated in front of her with his legs properly crossed, the polished wooden surface behind her.
"Do sit down," he said, and she did as she was told, raising to her toes so that she could push herself back to sit on the mostly empty desk. Mr. Kirkland reached out a hand to rest it on her knee, but his smile was warm as she met her eyes. "This is a perfectly normal procedure," he assured her, and she smiled back at him as he shuffled his chair closer. "Now, please take off your shirt."
She was almost surprised by how steadily she managed to push the straps of her dress of her shoulders, loosen her tie for then to pull it away to let it drop beside her on the desk, and started unbuttoning her shirt. She was acutely aware of how the thin material was keeping some part of her hidden, something perhaps indecent that was meant for boys her age, perhaps, not for men twice as hold as her - whose eyes were set to her fingers working, the buttons parting the fabric to reveal a narrow glimpse of skin. It was suddenly opened wider when she pulled the rest of the fabric up from the waistline of the dress; she undid the final two buttons and shrugged the shirt off her shoulders, finally sitting up straight to look at Mr. Kirkland again.
Mr. Kirkland scrutinized her with a look as unaffected as though he was a professional physician. After a minute, he sat up in his chair and reached up towards her. He stretched his hands beneath her arms, only touching her when his fingers gripped her bra, and unhooked it. He reached up to her shoulders, then, and carefully pulled the straps down until she was bared completely, and he was holding the last garment hiding her in one hand.
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