The Housemistress (23 page)

“Says the student who’s sharing a cigarette with me, and stroking my obscenely wet pussy behind the schoolhouse.” Carriveau chuckles. “Yeah, you’re right: I’m the very picture of propriety and discipline.”

Rylie repositions to give herself a better angle for groping, but Carriveau staves her off, thwarting her attempt at penetration.

“Please don’t.” She finishes the cigarette, crushing it in the mug. “We’ll have almost the whole day together, so there’s no need to rush.” She fishes Rylie’s hand out from between her legs. “There’ll be plenty of time for intimacy.”

“I don’t have classes?”

“Not normal ones. You can use this day to catch up on your French coursework while I teach my other classes.”

Rylie pouts. “Lame.”

“None of that.” Carriveau gets up off the step and dusts herself down, secreting the contraband in her jacket pocket. “Unfortunately for us both, no matter what else you are, you’re still my student, and one of many at that.”

She clutches the mug in her hand and reaches for the door handle, but Rylie leaps up off the concrete and stops her.

“
Puis-je t’embrasser
?” she asks with doe eyes.

Unable to resist such a polite request for a kiss, Carriveau gives her one: a loving caress of tongues, meshing toothpaste, coffee, and cigarettes.

“Now that’s it until you finish your homework,” she says when it breaks, and they slip silently back into the house.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do with Adel?” Rylie asks, starting work on her breakfast while Carriveau washes out the mug.

“Believe me, I’ve thought of nothing else.” The Housemistress sighs, banishing the mug to the dishwasher. “I’ve been very careless.”

“Well, I’m not worried about her.” Rylie slaps two pieces of bread in the toaster. “She’s a bully, that’s all. She won’t get to me.”

“You might not be worried about her, but
I
am. I have to be.” Carriveau stands behind Rylie, rubbing her shoulders. “You’re my responsibility—
all
of you. I can’t disregard her feelings just because I’ve fallen—” She stops herself, the movement of her hands ceasing as abruptly as her words.

Rylie moves the conversation along, letting her off the hook, freeing her from the confession she’s obviously still not ready to make. “You wanna know something? I don’t think she deserves your consideration.”

“I did this to her. If she’s a vindictive little shit, it’s because of me.” Carriveau consults her watch again. “I have to go.”

Rylie doesn’t try to hold her back. Her toast pops, and she slathers it with jam, taking a seat at one of the smaller tables, glad that she was able to get to the last loaf of white bread before some other student could finish it off, leaving her with the dreaded heels.

She’s already halfway through by the time the first girls rush into the kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat before the coach arrives to whisk them away—Gabby among them.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She giggles, snatching a piece of toast off Rylie’s plate. “All alone with our house mum. All night.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Rylie gives up the rest of her breakfast. “I’m going to be doing French coursework all day by the sounds of it. Lucky ole me.”

While she continues to receive a pep talk from her best friend, Carriveau is in her study, receiving the opposite lecture from Miss Ansell.

“We can trade places if you like,” the geography teacher offers. “You can go with the kiddies as a chaperone, and I’ll stay here with whatsherface.”

Carriveau, seated at her desk, filling out paperwork, looks up at Miss Ansell over the top of her reading glasses. “Why ever would I want you to do that?”

The two lock eyes.

Miss Ansell backs down first. “Fine, I give up.” She flails her hands in the air. “All I will say is this: If you haven’t done it already, don’t.” She pauses for emphasis. “The girl’s not Kaitlyn.”

Deeming it pointless to continue flogging this long dead horse, Miss Ansell shakes her head in resignation and walks off, seeing to the boarding of the coach in a firm and orderly manner. When the house falls quiet, Rylie peeks her head into Carriveau’s study.

“I won’t be a nuisance today, I promise.”

“Nuisance, no.”Carriveau sets down her pen. “Distraction, yes.”

“When will you be done teaching?”

“I have five consecutive periods today, so I’ll be back at the house by two thirty.”

“Okay.” Rylie’s cogs whir. “And what will my reward be if I finish all my homework by then?”

Contemplating all the fun they’re about to have with one another, Carriveau’s mouth curls into the most delicious smile.

The echoes of Rylie’s orgasm can be heard up and down the house, her release coming swiftly and powerfully. When it’s over, Carriveau surfaces from beneath the covers, her hair tousled and unkempt, Rylie’s fingers still tangled up in it.

“Was that worth waiting for?” She brings her mouth to Rylie’s breasts, kissing her lover all over before rolling off her and onto the other side of the bed. “It’s been so long since I’ve had the pleasure of a woman in my bed.” She licks her lips, savoring the taste of Rylie’s sex.

Rylie pants, relishing the last few contractions of her climax, writhing under the covers, bursting into a giggle. “I can’t believe I’m
in
your bed.”

She looks around the room, taking in the details for the first time. Carriveau has tomorrow’s suit hanging on the dresser door, half a dozen silk scarves are draped over the bedroom mirror, a dresser is topped with makeup and nail polish, and a collection of stiletto-heeled shoes are lined up against one wall.

There are a few pictures here and there: Carriveau with an older couple who must be her parents, Carriveau with friends—possibly ex-girlfriends—and one picture of Carriveau with Kaitlyn. The latter is in a heart-shaped frame on the bedside table.

Rylie doesn’t get a chance to fixate on it for long. Carriveau flings back the covers, casting her eyes over the teen’s naked body, exposing her own nakedness at the same time.

She runs a hand from Rylie’s shoulders over her breasts, her ribs, her waist, her flat stomach, and the mound of her sex.

“You’re so soft.” She drags her fingers through Rylie’s pubic hair, toying with the barbell piercing below. “Does the piercing do anything for you?” she wonders, examining it.

Rylie looks down at herself, the silver jewelry shimmering with her own fluids and Carriveau’s saliva. “It rubs against my clit when I’m turned on and my little button’s all swollen.”

Carriveau flicks it, eliciting another giggle.

“Careful.” Rylie slaps her hand away, grinning. “It’s sensitive.” She pushes Carriveau onto her back, attacking her with kisses.

“Such exuberance!” Carriveau forces Rylie to break for air.

“I have to be exuberant.” Rylie leans on the pillow, stroking Carriveau’s face. “I never know when we’re going to get time together, and I don’t want to waste it.”

Carriveau cups Rylie’s cheeks, pulling her in for another kiss. “I wish this was easier.”

“It’s okay.” Rylie snuggles up next to her. “I know how it has to be.”

Carriveau cocks her head. “Have you done this before?” A curious smile starts to blossom on her lips. “Be truthful. I’m not your first teacher, am I?”

“You’re my first French teacher.”

Carriveau laughs heartily. “I should’ve known. You had no qualms about pursuing me. You knew well what you were doing, and you took it all in your stride.” She rolls onto her side, pressing more tightly against Rylie. “Does this have anything to do with why you transferred schools so suddenly?”

“Maybe.”

“What happened?” Carriveau prods her. “Please tell me nobody went to prison.”

“Nobody went to prison.” Rylie giggles. “My parents wouldn’t stand for it. The shame a scandal like that would cause my family would be intolerable for them, so they’d much rather make you sign a non-disclosure agreement, pay you off, and send you somewhere far, far away.”

“That’s Missus Bursnell’s attitude to a tee.” Carriveau swings her leg over Rylie’s hip, their arms and legs becoming further entangled. “So am I to assume that was the fate that befell my predecessor? What kind of teacher was she?”

“German, but technically, she was never my teacher. She taught at the sixth form college, and I was still taking my GCSEs at the secondary school on the adjoining campus when we met. So I wasn’t doing it to get good grades or anything, and when I started at the sixth form, I didn’t even take German. There was no conflict of interest.”

“You must have a fetish for language teachers.” Carriveau chuckles. “Did you love her?”

“Yes,” Rylie answers solemnly.

“Was she your first?”

“Uh-huh. She took my virginity when I was fifteen.”

“Ooh.” Carriveau winces. “That was dreadfully naughty of her. How old was she?”

“She’d just turned thirty. I reckon she was having some kind of crisis brought on by the departure of her twenties, and being with me made her feel good about herself.”

“I bet it did! You were half her age! Having said that, if you were living in France, she’d not have been breaking the law—age of consent there is fifteen. The divide of right and wrong in these matters can be so arbitrary. Were I not your teacher now, I’d not be breaking the law either.”

“I’ll be eighteen in six months, then we won’t have to worry.”

Carriveau regards her carefully, inspecting her fresh young face, tracing a finger over her smooth cheeks and full pink lips. “Have you always been attracted to older women?”

Rylie nods. “Mm-hmm, but you’re not
that
much older than me. There’s only”—she counts on her fingers—“fourteen years between us.”

Carriveau laughs. “Only!”

“Why does it matter, anyway?” Rylie surprises her with a kiss, tasting herself on Carriveau’s lips. “Who cares?”

“Your parents probably.” Carriveau nuzzles Rylie’s nose. “So tell me more about your ex-girlfriend. Was she beautiful?”

“Not a patch on you.”

Carriveau murmurs noncommittally, twirling a lock of Rylie’s hair around her finger. “I suppose you have to say that, since you’re naked in my bed.”

“I’m not lying!” Rylie wriggles to the edge of the bed, leans over, and fishes her cell phone from the pocket of her doffed Larkhill cardigan. “See?” She brings up a picture, showing the screen to Carriveau.

“Let me look at that properly.” Carriveau takes the phone from her, scrutinizing a provocative lingerie shot of an attractive brunette before tapping a few buttons and handing the device back.

“What did you just do?” Rylie tries to find the picture again. “Did you delete it?” She flips all the way through her stored photos. “You did!” She puts on a serious voice. “Now you’ll have to replace it.”

Carriveau’s answer surprises her.

“Nothing above the shoulders, or below the waist,
s’il te plaît
.”

Rylie’s jaw drops. “Are you serious? You’ll let me take a nudie of you?”

Carriveau shrugs. “Why not? I’m not a prude.”

Leaping on the offer in case it expires, Rylie swings her leg over Carriveau, straddling her, grinding crotch against crotch. In this position, she takes a picture of Carriveau’s bare breasts, her proud nipples standing to attention.

While she’s saving the picture as her phone’s wallpaper, completely naked, sat astride her equally naked Housemistress and teacher, an amusing thought occurs to her.

“You know, my parents decided to send me to boarding school because they thought I needed more discipline.”

“Ha! That worked well, didn’t it?” Carriveau reaches up and fondles Rylie’s breasts. “Were your parents angry when they found out about your relationship with the German teacher?”

“Yeah, but not so much ‘cause she was a teacher at my school.” Rylie sets the phone aside. “Or because she was older than me, for what it’s worth. There’s almost twenty years between my parents, so they know that argument would never fly.”

“Why, then?”

“Because she didn’t have a dick.”

Carriveau’s ministrations falter. “
Ma chérie
…”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it.” Rylie places her hands over Carriveau’s and urges her to continue. “When I was seven, I was grounded for a month after my parents caught me kissing the girl next door. She was eleven.”

“After older women, even then!” Carriveau pulls her into a kiss.

As they kiss, Rylie grinds herself on Carriveau’s pelvis. “Wanna go again? I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?” Carriveau wants to hear her say it.

“I want to fuck you again.”

Rylie tries to coax Carriveau’s hand between her legs, but Carriveau rebuffs her.

“Can you say it for me
en français
?”

“
Je veux encore te baiser
.” Unsure of her syntax, Rylie raises her voice at the end of the sentence, as if posing a question.

Carriveau shakes her head. “You don’t sound sure of yourself. Perhaps that’s not really what you want.” She continues to resist. “Try again?”

“
Fais-moi l’amour
,” Rylie says instead, rubbing her piercing on Carriveau’s mound, stimulating her own clit. “Make love to me.”