Something to reel you in.
Chapter’s 1 & 2 of my novel, A Taylor Made Student…
Wow, my room is a lot larger than I thought it would be. I noted, as I glanced around at the vast space before me, still not quite able to comprehend the fact that this was about to become my University bedroom for, at least, the next twelve months.
It wasn’t the greatest of all rooms; pretty simplistic, in all honesty. However, it was my room, and, before too long, it would begin to feel like home.
The room had freshly painted, pure white walls, and two large double windows on the far back wall, which looked out over the campus. There was a black double wardrobe along the right wall, and a black wooden double bed, with the headboard placed against the wall to my left. A white chest of drawers sat beneath the two windows, the drawers of which didn’t smell too good when I opened them for inspection. I crinkled my nose as the horrible, musky stench assaulted my nostrils. About fifteen large cardboard boxes were scattered all about the room, cluttering my living space, and I sighed at the thought of unpacking them all. My mum had helped me carry the boxes into the room, which had taken a little longer than expected.
I must have been there just over an hour, trying to settle in, and I had already made friends with the other girl living in the University apartment with me. Her name was Aimee; a sweet girl, who was always smiling. She was a happy-go-lucky kind of girl, and very chatty, which made her easy to get along with, and, somehow, I already knew we were going to be good friends. She had mouse-brown, shoulder length hair, and was quite natural in the way she looked. We chatted, whilst I unpacked the mess of boxes, and I found out that she had been working as a volunteer, teaching English in an Argentinean school over the summer term, and had recently met the love of her life out there; a young Argentinean man, whose name was Geraldo.
I heard a slight sob from my mum, as I assembled my room. It was a strange feeling to me, as she never really was the overly-loving type of person. However, we were kind of close and, deep down, I knew she loved me in her own strange way. I knew she would be a little sad that I wouldn’t be living with her anymore, even though we bickered ninety percent of the time.
Two and half years ago, I had decided to take some time off from studying after college, so I could go and spend time with my good friend, Steve, who lived in Marbella. Finally, after two years abroad, I’d decided that I wanted to return back home to England and finish my degree. I realised, after booking my ticket back, I had nowhere to live and no money; my mum took me in and supported me until I got back on my feet again.
“Make sure you call me tomorrow. Maybe we can go for something to eat next week?” she demanded, and kissed me lightly on the cheek.
“Yes, mum.” I sighed. It wasn’t like I was moving that far away from her. She lived in a small seaside village called Clacton. It wasn’t the most stylish of places, and could be perceived to be a little rough at times. However, it was a nice place to go in the summer time, to chill on the beach, or go on one of the rides on the old pier. It was only a thirty minute drive away from the old town of Colchester, of which I had just become the newest resident.
“Wow, you look like your mum,” Aimee noted, as she stood in my door way. I shrugged; it was a comment that wasn’t unfamiliar to me. Not that people really had my dad to compare me to, as he had left us when I was only eight years old. He wasn’t the world’s greatest father. He spent more time cheating, gambling and drinking, than he ever had with the family. My mum had finally had enough of his shenanigans, and thrown him out by his ear. It hurt at first, but as I got older, I realised we were better off without him.
My mum had shoulder length, ash blonde hair, and hazel eyes, whereas I had long, chestnut brown hair, and big, bright green eyes, which I always seemed to get a lot of compliments on. However, we are both petite and, facially, we looked very similar. My mum would show me pictures of herself when she was my age, remarking on how much I looked like her. She was stunning back in those days, so I took that as a massive compliment.
“I have wine,” Aimee said, grinning like a Cheshire cat, as she stepped into my room, wagging a bottle of white wine and two glasses at me. The glasses clinked together as she walked swiftly over to where I sat, cross legged, on the carpeted floor. She poured some of the sweet, bubbly wine into each glass, and handed one to me. “This is to a new start and new friendships. Let’s hope it’s going to be an exciting year for us both.”
“Oh yes. I’m sure it will be.” I lifted my glass to meet hers. “Thank you Aimee, you have made me feel very welcome.” I grinned, which she returned.
It was Saturday morning of fresher’s weekend, and the start of fresher’s week. I knew it was going to be a crazy couple of weeks before classes started. Fresher’s weeks were the first two weeks before University fully started. I would have informal lectures, introductions to the courses, and outline expectations. Then there was Fresher’s Fair, where I could see the different teams I could sign up for, and meet local businesses offering discounts for students. This was then followed by going out to different events at the University, meeting a variety of different people, and pretty much getting stinking drunk every night, which happened to be the part of fresher’s week I was most looking forward to. It was time to get Aimee, call a few friends who had also joined the University this year, and get partying.
We walked through the endless stalls, students, and business-hungry promoters hounding us, throwing leaflets and goody bags in our faces – mostly local clubs and bars. Aimee and I came to a halt at one stall, or, I should say, a self-made bar. It represented one of the more popular bars in town. There was a tall, rectangular MDF tower in the centre of a home-made MDF bar, which circled around all four sides. The bar was covered in black felt fabric, posters and leaflets. Free bottles of watered down alcohol – which the nearby on-campus bar had clearly given them – sat in a line along the bar, for students to take away – one bottle allowed per person! There were also several goody bags, filled with vouchers and discount tokens, for the students to use on certain nights, to take away with the alcohol. A DJ was spinning tunes on his decks at one end of the bar, the large speakers on either side of him blasting out some pretty loud awesome tunes, mostly dance music. Funny how this particular stall was the most popular one on campus.
The afternoon air was warm and dry, but with autumn not far off, there was a slight, fresh feeling to the breeze, bringing with it the smell of pine from the surrounding trees. People were dancing, chatting, and introducing their friends to other people from the campus. It was a lively atmosphere, and with the bar nearby, it was a pretty good place to stop and get blind drunk and party.
As I danced the night away to some funky dance tunes with Aimee, caught up in the moment and feeling a slightly drunken haze wash over me from all the booze, a sudden flash of paranoia flew through me, like a pair of eyes was watching me. I’m sure there were plenty of people staring at us, laughing at our drunken stupidity, yet somehow this felt different. It felt more like I was being studied, instead of laughed at. I looked around to find the cause of my paranoia, when I locked eyes with an incredibly handsome, tall, muscular man. His intense stare burned straight through me, leaving me feeling naked, and very self-conscious.
He wore a tight black shirt, with the top button of the collar undone, hinting at the smooth hairless chest. He had on dark blue jeans, and his stylishly messy, thick, almost black, hair was enticing my twitching fingers to slide wildly through it. Wow, he was very sexy, and even though his burning stare was extremely overwhelming, the crooked smile on his face made me stare right back, as if I was under his spell from which I couldn’t break free. I instantly felt very uncomfortable, because this handsome man had watched as I’d made a fool out of myself.
My legs gave way unexpectedly; whether it was from too much alcohol consumed, or from the power of the intense glare coming from the handsome stranger before me. I stumbled sideways towards Aimee and, luckily for me, she caught me just in time. Crap! I was drunker than I’d thought. I readjusted myself, and what was left of my pride, from the embarrassing fall. I rapidly turned my attention back to the stranger, but he had gone, vanished into thin air. Who was he? He looked older than the average student here, so was he a student? Was he supposed to be here? Damn it! Who was he, and would I ever see him again?
The evening went by in a quick, confused haze. My head was spinning from one too many Smirnoff ices. I clung to Aimee as if my life depended on it, as we staggered back to our apartment. My legs were no longer linked to my brain, and were working of their own accord, and my stomach had started to perform summersaults.
“Oh my God, I’m so drunk,” I said in a giggling slur to Aimee. Once back at the apartment, she took my arm from around her shoulder, lifted it over her head, and threw me down on my bed – which probably wasn’t the best thing to do while my stomach was performing its circus act. I will not throw up! I will not throw up! I willed my stomach to listen to my demands. As I lay on my spinning bed, fully clothed, and unable to muscle up the energy to move out of my drunken paralysis, my mind began to recall small snippets from the events of that evening, and the strange, handsome man that had been staring and smiling at me, was the most prominent of the images flashing across my eyes. Oh fuck, that smile. Who was he? My eyes lids grew heavy, and then I passed out.
“Oh my head,” I groaned. My mouth tasted bitter, and my tongue and teeth felt like fur. Yuk. Still fully dressed in last night’s clothing, and through all my aches – and the throbbing pain in my head – I managed to peel off my skinny black jeans, and throw my American flag t-shirt into the washing basket. I made my way to the mirror. Oh the horror! There, in the reflection, was me, crazy bed head, and half of last night’s make up smeared across my face. This is going to take some work to look normal again.
“Tea?” yelled Aimee, or what seemed like yelling to me. She didn’t appear to be as hung over as I was.
“Yes, please,” I groaned. “Why aren’t you hung over?” I squinted at her, mostly from jealousy. I wanted her to join me in my suffering.
“I stopped drinking before you did, and I also downed a glass of water when I got in.” I growled at her. How dare she let me suffer alone? “Do you remember much from last night?” she laughed.
“Not really. Only bits… oh oh. I do remember something.” Flashes of the beautiful man came crawling back to me, “You remember when we were dancing by the Circle Bar stall, something strange happened to me. I was busy dancing, in my own little world, when I had this feeling, like someone was staring at me. When I looked around, I was right, there was this incredibly hot man glaring at me.” I smiled slightly at the thought.
“And that’s strange because?” she arched an eyebrow at me “Kiera, you’re stunning.” I grimaced, and waved my hand at her in disagreement. Right at that moment, I clearly didn’t feel it.
“It was strange, because he was really glaring at me. It was so intense, like he was looking straight through me.” I rubbed my hand on the hollow of my neck, feeling very naked at the memory of his stare. “He seemed older than the average student.” I paused for a moment, feeling a little confused by the whole situation. “He had this strange smile on his face. At first I found it a little uncomfortable, but now… thinking about it… I actually find it quite sexy.” The corners of my mouth twitched.
“How old would you say he was?” she asked, as she sat down in the wicker chair across from me, took a sip of her tea, and watched me intently.
“I don’t know; about thirtyish, maybe?” I placed my fingertips on my temples, rubbing them in circular motions, to try and relieve the pain that was pounding through my head.
“He might be a student. However, I reckon he was most likely helping someone move in, or something like that. Why is it bothering you so much? Are you gutted you didn’t talk to him?” she asked. I shrugged. “Sorry, honey, I don’t reckon you’ll see him again, but you never know.” She smiled sympathetically at me, and even though I knew she was right, I still felt a little disheartened, but why? Did I want to see him again? Yeah, of course I did. Who wouldn’t? He was so fucking hot. However, that stare was a little intense, bordering on scary. An array of emotions washed over me; confusion, fear, excitement. Emotions I wasn’t quite sure what to do with. I shook my head in an attempt to erase the thoughts from my mind.
That week flew past a little too quickly for my liking, and most of it was a blur from consuming too much alcohol. It was now Sunday evening, and tomorrow morning would be the start of the second week of fresher’s week. This was the week I had my informal lectures to introduce me to my courses, and to outline the expectations for those courses. I would also get to meet my tutors and classmates, too.
I was studying art and design. I love art, and it was something I knew I was good at; a raw talent, I suppose you could say; a talent that had been passed down through the family genes. My mother was a brilliant painter, whose skills I, in turn, had inherited. I knew I wanted to be in design, but I wasn’t sure which area of design: Fashion? Interior? Architecture? Or possibly Photography? They were all options I had thought about. Canvas painting was also something that interested me, but there has never been a career in painting.
Once I had finished my lunch, I ran to my next class – a good way to burn off the calories – it was studies in Still Drawings and Painting. A subject I knew I would enjoy very much.
Bursting through the door like a whirlwind on a course of destruction, every head turned and gazed at me. Holy crap, that’s embarrassing. An overwhelming feeling of humiliation flushed across my face as my cheeks turned red, from not only being late on my first day – okay, it was only an informal lecture, but that’s not the point – but also from the fact that everyone was glaring at me for my abrupt entrance. Luckily enough for me, my tutor hadn’t arrived yet. I smiled shyly, and walked promptly to the back of the class, where I’d seen an empty seat.
Looking around at my surroundings, I noticed that the far back wall had three, fairly large, tall, arched windows, starting from half way up the wall, and stretching up high to the tall ceiling above, and in between each of the windows was a variation of different types of art work. Everything, from pop art and sketches, to water colours and oil painting. This was the main focal point of the room, with its variety of vast colours and textures. On the wall to my right, as I walked into the room, stood two tall, dark wooden bookcases, filled with all sorts of books on art, and to my left, there was a small door in the centre of the wall, which, I assumed, was some sort of storage room. On either side of the door hung two billboards with event posters, advertisements, photos and notes.
High rise ceilings, easily twenty to thirty feet tall, and dark wooden floors made the room dank and bleak. It was definitely part of the original structure of the campus when it was first built fifty years previously. The building was old, dark, and had a damp smell to it. Even the large windows brought no light in the room. It needed colour and life. The only colour and life in the room were the paintings on the far back wall. Twelve large double tables sat within this vast, bleak room, each with four chairs; two sat on one side, facing the front wall, and one sat at each end of the table.
Once I’d placed myself at my seat, I noticed that the main wall, through which I entered the classroom, housed a large dark oak desk, with an open Mac laptop on it. The desk sat in front of a large white-and-black board. Wow, that is one big desk. I could only ever imagine that sort of desk in a professor’s office, in front of a large library of high shelves, stacked with books.
I rummaged through my bag to grab my books, pad, and pens, when I heard the door shut. I glanced up, and saw my tutor standing at the white board, with his back to the class, writing his name on the board. He wore a blue shirt, which was tucked into his tight, dark blue jeans. His broad shoulders pulled at the back of his shirt, causing the shirt to ripple at the strain, as he stretched up to write Mr. Holloway across the board. He placed the pen down, and turned on his heels to face the class.
“Hello, class, welcome to studies in Still Drawings and Painting. I am your tutor, Mister Holloway, and you may call me… Mister Holloway,” he said, smiling.
OH! MY! GOD! It was him! My handsome, staring stranger. I gasped in horror and shock. Oh my God, it’s really him. But… he’s my tutor? My mind raced. I must have looked like I’d been slapped across the face, which was pretty much what it felt like. I didn’t know what to do with the emotions I was feeling. I had wanted so badly to see this man again, to talk to him, and here he was, only for me to find out he was my tutor. A flash of adrenaline consumed my body, and I felt sick from the excitement of seeing him again. He was saying something to the class, but all I could hear was muffled sounds. I was in shock. I tried hard to stop the adrenaline running through my veins, causing my legs to shake. Glancing up through my lashes, I noticed he hadn’t seen me yet. I slouched down in my chair, and stared downwards at my book, hoping he wouldn’t notice me. But then two little words disturbed me from my muffled concentration…
“Miss Fox?” he yelled. He knew me?
Oh fuck. I squeezed my eyelids tightly closed. My body tightened. I slowly and shyly opened my eyes, looked up from my book and glanced over at him. Those burning brown eyes locked onto mine. He didn’t flinch or react when he noticed who I was. Had he known who I was all along? That I was a student in his class? My lips formed into a thin line, and I inhaled sharply to calm my nerves before I answered him.
“Yes, Mr. Holloway?” I murmured. He remained impassive.
“Would you like to tell the class a little bit about yourself?” He gestured his hands towards the rest of the class – all of whom were looking directly at me – when he finally smiled. Wow, that smile. His smile did delicious things to my body. How could a stranger have an effect on me so instantaneously? All I could do was imagine what he might look like naked on top of me. Oh no! Don’t think of him like that. I stopped my thoughts dead in their tracks, and banished them from my mind immediately – well, at least I tried to. Slowly and unwillingly I rose from my chair. I cleared my throat, and held onto the table to steady myself from my shaky legs, and tried hard not to show how nervous I was as I avoided his glare.
“Well, my name is Kiera Fox, and I’m 23 years of age. I’m looking to be a designer, although I’m unsure of what area of design I want to be in. I love painting, and my favourite artist is Salvador Dali. I’ve lived here, in Colchester, for about two weeks roughly, and in Clacton prior to now, for pretty much most of my life. I hope, one day, to live a very exciting life.” I laughed slightly, looking everywhere but in Mr. Holloway’s direction, and then sat quickly back down on my chair, with a thud.
“Thank you, Miss Fox.” Finally feeling brave enough, I looked at him, to find him slightly smirking at me. His dark eyes paused on mine for a second, and then moved onto another person in the class. Phew. I was glad that was over and done with, feeling slightly relieved that the attention was no longer focused on me. Embarrassment overwhelmed my face, and I went back into hiding as much as I possibly could.
One by one, each class member took a few minutes to introduce themselves to the rest of the class, whilst I sat, slouched at my desk, and occasionally glanced up through my lashes at Mr. Holloway. From what I could tell, he hadn’t once looked at me since I’d given my introduction. In fact, he had avoided any form of eye contact with me. I found myself confused, and slightly irritated. I started to doubt myself as to whether this man was, in fact, the same man staring at me the other day. No, it was definitely him. But why has he shown no reaction from the sight of me? Maybe he wasn’t looking at me after all? Slightly annoyed by myself, I realised I wanted this man so badly, my body ached for him, and I could no longer have him.
The hour was nearly over, and the majority of it had mostly been spent getting to know each member of the class. We were also given an outline of what was to be expected from the class for the next twelve months. I had finally managed to put Mr. Holloway at the back of my mind – well, as best as I could, given the circumstances. The last fifteen minutes of the class were spent chatting with the other class members at my table. Sitting next to me on my right, was Melinda; she had blonde, shoulder length hair, and blue eyes. She wore bright pink lipstick, which suited her pretty, petite, girly face, and she had the longest lashes I’d ever seen. She was the sort of girl who definitely stood out in a crowd. She wanted to get into illustration for advertising, and lived nearby with her boyfriend, Jim.
To my left was Danny, who was quite cute looking, with a slight, athletic build, green eyes, and mousey brown hair brushed to a comb over, but not in a geeky way. He was a rugby player in his spare time, and had moved down here from Newcastle-upon-Tyne with his family, and had come to the University to study to become an architect.
Finally, next to Melinda, at the right end of the table, was Katie. I instantly disliked her, which wasn’t like me. There was something about her that gave off a bad vibe. She had straight, shoulder length, strawberry blonde hair, highlighted with streaks of bleached blonde, hazel eyes, and wore far too much make up. Everything she wore had a designer label attached to it. You could clearly see, from the lack of clothes, that she had had a breast enlargement done, and possibly a nose job, too – no one’s nose was that perfect.
When she spoke, I noticed, on certain words, she had a slight hint of a South American accent; any other person wouldn’t have noticed the accent, as she hid it very well, but, back in high school, I used to be best friends with a girl who came from South America, and I could recognise that accent anywhere. However, seeing as she was clearly trying to hide it, for whatever reason, I decided not to push her on the subject of where she was from. The accent seemed strange on her, as most people in South America were tanned, with dark hair and dark features, whereas she was the complete opposite of that, with her fair skin and freckles.
Katie spent more time talking to Danny – and checking herself out in the mirror – than she did talking to Melinda and me. Some people might say I was jealous, but that wasn’t the case. I would always be the first person to admit if I thought someone was attractive, whether I liked them or not. Katie, however, seemed faux in more ways than one, like she was trying too hard, as if she was hiding something. Katie knew she had the assets to attract men, and she used them fully to her advantage. I’d found that people like that would always put their own needs and desires first, before anyone else’s. This made me feel, personally, as if I couldn’t trust her.
“How is everyone getting on? All getting to know each other?” asked Mr. Holloway, making me jump by appearing at my side without so much as a sound to warn me he was there. I caught the sweet fragrant smell of his after shave. He smelt so good. My body quivered with pleasure. When I regained my focus, I managed to calm my nerves from Mr. Holloway scaring the crap out of me. I noticed that Katie had immediately redirected her attention to him. So, too, had Melinda. I, on the other hand, still couldn’t bring myself to look at him just yet. I was still too embarrassed, and I wasn’t sure I could handle looking into those eyes again, without wanting him to take me right there and then.
Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Why am I wishfully thinking? I mean, yeah, he is, quite possibly, the most gorgeous man I have ever seen, and I want to do extremely naughty things to him, but he’s my tutor, for crying out loud. That would be wrong on so many levels, not that he would think of me in that kind of way anyway. I growled in frustration at myself; I needed to stop thinking about this. “Kiera, are you okay? You’re very quiet?” He placed his hand on my shoulder, which sent a quiver of excitement downwards through my body from the contact. Oh, Lord. My core clenched. I couldn’t avoid it any longer; I had to look at him.
“Oh, no, I’m fine; just taking it all in, processing the information.” This was it. As I looked up at him through my lashes, his powerful brown eyes stared right back at me. He glared at me for a few short seconds, and I thought I caught a hint of a smirk on his lips, which set me squirming in my seat.
“Right!” he yelled, and, clapping his hands together loudly, he walked off, once again scaring the shit out of me. God. He puts my teeth on edge. “That’s all for today, class, but I will see you all again on Friday. Be prepared for some hard work ahead of you,” he grinned, and headed over to his desk.
Clearing my stuff into my bag, I aimed swiftly for the door as if it was some sort of self-set mission. Feeling slightly aggravated, and extremely aroused, I had to get out of there. I needed to relieve my sexual frustration. Seeing as I was unable to act on my urges; I guessed I would just have to satisfy those urges by fantasising about him instead. Don’t look at him, just keep walking, I thought, with my eyes fixated on the door in front of me. Nearly there.
Crap! Stopping in my tracks, I paused, then turned unwillingly to face him. I tried to control my body’s need to tighten, struggling to keep calm and not show him how extremely intimidating I found him. I took a deep breath.
“Yes, Mr. Holloway?” I answered, smiling reluctantly at him.
“Can you stay behind please?” he asked. He didn’t look at me. Instead, he gathered up the papers on his desk, and placed them neatly in his brown leather brief case. Shit. Confused, I walked towards him, and lingered impatiently. Shifting uneasily from foot to foot, I waited for the last person to leave the class and close the door behind them. Abruptly he stood up, turned and strolled confidently towards me. His eyes now locked on to mine, and he said nothing at first, and I attempted to hide my growing anxiety as he got closer to me. Why am I acting this way? I have never been so nervous around anyone before in my whole life. This is stupid, I’m acting like some silly little school girl with a crush on her teacher. Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, he was standing in front of me, and only then did he speak.
“Miss Fox, I would just like to apologise if I caused you any worry when I was staring at you in the courtyard last week.” Oh. You would think his apology would have made me feel a little calmer, but instead, I automatically became more uncomfortable and nervous than I already had been! This was confirmation that he had, in fact, been staring at me. My eyes flitted to his and away again. “It was very rude, and I am sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”
He sounded sincere, yet somehow he still continued to stare impassively at me. Finally he looked away, and walked past me. I caught the smell of his masculine sent once more. Hmm, such a tantalising aroma. Regaining focus, I froze instantly when I realised he was standing directly behind me, sending a tingling sensation rippling over my flesh.
“Well, I find you quite breath-taking, Miss Fox, and I couldn’t help myself. I am a man of art, and when I find something so beautiful, I can’t help but stop and examine its beauty.” Oh my God. Fear blended with desire delivered a pleasurable, and increasingly familiar, shudder over my body. Did he really just say that to me? I liked that he intimidated me greatly. No one had ever been so blunt and open with me, and yet, even though I could feel my face burn, I was also slightly aroused by the words he had spoken in my ear. Am I actually blushing? It was a very strange and unfamiliar feeling to me, as no one had ever made me blush before. However, this was wrong. I tried my best to show no reaction to his words, taking long, steady breaths to calm my heart from pounding hard against my chest, which I was pretty sure he could hear. I composed myself, and turned to face him, looking directly up into his eyes. God, he’s beautiful.
“Thank you Mr. Holloway, but I really must be getting to my next class. I appreciate your honesty, and I accept your apology,” I said calmly, and took long steady breaths, inhaling his intoxicating scent. His eyes locked deep into mine and, after a moment, I noticed the corner of his mouth twitch, as if he was trying to suppress that sexy smile.
Nerves had finally gotten the better of me, and taken full control over my motor functions. I couldn’t move my legs. Move, damn it, move! As I willed my legs to move, he took a step closer towards me. He was standing so close by then, that I could feel his warm breath against my skin, and felt a small shiver down in the lower levels of my belly. Surely a tutor shouldn’t behave like this towards a student? His silence was killing me. I refused to look away, no matter how much those dark brown eyes terrified me.
I didn’t want to show him how much of an affect he had on me. Was he making some sort of move on me, or just trying to scare me? This is wrong. MOVE, DAMN LEGS, MOVE! I screamed in my head. Finally, my legs regained their strength, and I started to move. Being so close to me, I had to slide my way past Mr. Holloway, brushing his arm on the way. All the hairs on my body stood to attention. I had to get out.
“I have to go,” I coughed, and with the utmost urgency, I headed for the door, and was running rapidly through it in blind panic, when I heard Mr. Holloway yell at me, with what sounded like amusement in his voice.
“See you Friday, Miss Fox.”
Oh my God. I don’t want to go back and see him Friday…or do I?
For the rest of that day, I forbade myself to think about what had happened in Mr. Holloway’s classroom; and forced myself to concentrate solely on my work. However, back at my apartment, I couldn’t avoid thinking about him any longer. I walked into find Aimee on her laptop, talking to Geraldo via Skype. He was very handsome – dark skin, dreadlocks, and big brown eyes. She seemed so happy to hear from him. I waved quickly as I walked past, trying not to disturb her.
I fell on my bed with a thud, and stared at the ceiling, my mind starting to recall the intense conversation earlier that day in Mr. Holloway’s class. I’d avoided thinking about it all day and, with nothing left to do, I could no longer suppress the memory, and replayed it over and over in my mind. Why was it bothering me so much? I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and how much I craved him, when really what I should have done was to tell him to back off, that it was inappropriate. Yes, okay, he was handsome and sexy as hell, but surely that didn’t give him the right to behave that way towards a student. And the more I thought about it, I realised the lust I had had there before, had been replaced with anger.
But why was I angry? At Mr. Holloway, for acting in such an inappropriate manner? Or was I angry with myself for actually liking it; for letting him have such a seductive effect on me? Okay, he said he found me beautiful, but that doesn’t mean that he would want anything from me, or that I would even allow it, would I? He would lose his job… he probably has a family… oh, for crying out loud! All these questions were making me feel dizzy. Frustration overwhelmed me. This was not even an option for me to be thinking about. The only way I could have him would be to have him in my fantasies. I decided there and then to eradicate the thoughts of him from my mind, well – after I relieved my frustration first.
“Hey, girlfriend, you ready to hit the bar?” Aimee yelled at me over the music that vibrated loudly from the living room into my bedroom. She wore a pink, strapless maxi dress, which clung to her curves in all the right places, gold strappy flat sandals, and she had her hair high into a pony tail. She looked so pretty, as if she was summer itself.
“Give me 10 minutes. I’ve just have to get dressed.” I had just finished straightening my long brown hair, and quickly applied some eye-liner, mascara to enhance my green eyes, and a small amount of clear gloss to my lips. I usually never needed to wear much bronzer, as I had naturally tanned olive skin. I walked to my wardrobe and searched through an array of different types of clothing. Finally, after a few minutes of searching, I decided to wear my knee length, tight, baby blue shift dress, which bunched into a small knot at my hip. It was cute, with a sexy edge that showed off my slender curves without revealing too much flesh.
We had been at the campus bar for about an hour, and both Aimee and I were already quite intoxicated. I stood at the bar, looking blankly at the six tequila shots lined up before us. We were having a good time, and I had forgotten all about the exciting events that had happened to me earlier. I was off dancing in my drunken, hazy day dream, when I stopped, to find Aimee standing still with a stunned look on her face, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open. I looked at her with confusion. What was wrong with her?
“Hello again, Miss Fox.” Oh. I recognised that beautiful, musky smell, and that sexy voice. And I knew, there and then, why Aimee was standing stunned beside me. I spun around with a little too much enthusiasm, and ended up leaping forward towards Mr. Holloway, and into his firm, muscular chest. I looked up at him with wary eyes, and noticed the amusement on his face. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” I flushed, and quickly pushed myself away from him.
“It’s okay, Miss Fox,” he chuckled, and placed both his hands on my shoulder to steady me. “Are you okay?” He looked down at me, waiting.
“Err, yes.” I turned and lent on the bar to steady myself, and hide my increasing redness.
“Are you sure?” he smirked.
“Yes, Mr. Holloway. I’m not as drunk as you may think. I-I just somehow caught my foot as I turned,” I lied.
“Alright.” He paused and lent on the bar next to me. “Well, I just wanted to say hello, and check that everything was okay?
“Okay?” I was confused.
“Yes. You left my class quite rapidly this afternoon.” He looked concerned. Oh no, did I, once again, confuse the situation earlier today? Fucking hell. Trying to figure this man out is beginning to give me brain ache.
“Oh yes, sorry. I-I just really needed to get to my next lecture,” I stuttered, and looked down at the half full glass that I clutched tightly in my hands, just as I felt my sex twitch.
“Good. Well, as long as you’re okay? I have to go now, I’ll leave you to enjoy your evening with your friend,” he said, gesturing towards Aimee, who was close by – still in a daze over Mr. Holloway’s handsomeness, as was every other girl in the bar – and who was most definitely ear-wigging. I frowned at her.
“Oh, yes. Thank you.” I smiled shyly. I felt slightly disappointed by the fact that he was leaving me. He brushed his hand softly down my arm, and smiled sweetly at me as he walked off.
“Oh my God! Who was that? He is so hot,” Aimee gasped, grabbing tightly at my arm, eagerly waiting to hear what I had to say. I suddenly realised that I had been holding my breath, and exhaled quickly.
“Well…that would be the mysterious staring stranger I will probably never see again.” I glared at her with one raised eyebrow.
“Yes, also known as Mr. Holloway… My Tutor,” I said sarcastically. She stared at me in astonishment when the realisation finally hit her.
“Yes. Tell me about it.” I could feel the irritation rasping in my throat, protruding into my voice, which Aimee had picked up on immediately.
“You’re not thinking about-” she paused, attempting to find the right words, but I knew what she was trying to say.
“No. That would be wrong.” I said the words out loud, but I didn’t believe them. I was a terrible liar, and I needed to distract Aimee from digging any further. Picking up a shot glass from the bar, I yelled “cheers!”over the loud music, and threw the tequila into my mouth, swallowed the liquid down quickly, and cringed as the fiery drink engulphed my throat.
It was midnight, and Aimee, who had to be up early the next day for one of her informal lectures, had decided to leave me in the bar to continue drinking with a couple of my other friends. I had decided to finally give up and go home, as I needed sleep. The drunken haze, I knew quite well, was finally starting to clear. It was cold out that evening, and I quickened my staggering steps, to get back to my apartment, into my bed, and out of the brisk evening air.
In my haste to get home speedily in the killer high heel shoes I’d worn – and still more than slightly drunk – I suddenly felt my ankle crack, and, with a thud, I fell forward, crashing to the ground. An unbearable pain split right through the centre of my ankle. I sat on the cold concrete ground, rubbing my swollen ankle, immobilizing it to avoid the searing pain.
“Shiiiittttt!” I cried out.
“Well, I seem to literally knock you off your feet, Miss Fox.” I looked up and, once again, Mr. Holloway stood over me, with a smug look on his face. I suddenly found him quite arrogant, and felt a need to wipe that look off his face.
“Well, as much as you probably do knock silly little school girls off their feet Mr. Holloway,” I said sarcastically. “I, however, not being a silly little school girl, fell because I have a weak ankle.” I growled at him.
“I do apologise, Miss Fox,” he smirked at me with amusement.
The overbearing pain in my ankle, combined with his arrogance, had made me a little cranky, which he had clearly picked up on but still found amusing. It was then that, even though his arrogance astounded me, I still found my body tense with pure, frustrating pleasure, as it registered his presence beside me. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he crouched down and placed one arm underneath my legs, the other arm around my waist, and effortlessly hauled me up.
“What are you doing?” I asked, confused.
“I’m taking you back to your apartment. Or would you like to spend the night out here on the concrete, in the cold?” he asked, with raised brows.
I realised I had no choice, so I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on tightly. Oh God, he smells so good. He held me close, and I could no longer breathe, it was too much being this close to him and not being able to act on my impulses. I couldn’t help but study his face; his long dark lashes and soft skin, the day old stubble around his chiseled chin, and his supple, kissable lips. My anger towards his arrogance had vanished, and I wondered what it would be like to kiss those soft lips. Oh, yes, I couldn’t fight it; I wanted to kiss those lips.
“You okay, Kiera?” he asked, looking down at me with concern. “You’re very quiet. What are you thinking about?”
Just that I’m enjoying being in your arms and imaging what it would be like to kiss you. I knew these thoughts were wrong, but right then – whilst the alcohol still consumed my veins – I didn’t care. I became aware that I was still staring at him, so I looked away promptly, and let go of the breath I was holding on to.
“Sorry, I’m just in quite a bit of pain.” It wasn’t a complete lie.
A few minutes later we arrived outside of my apartment building. I noticed that neither one of us had spoken in quite some time. I wondered what he might be thinking about, as his face had remained impassive since he had lifted me up in his arms and carried me here. After a moment, and a few careful glances up through my lashes, I became conscious of the fact that we were in full view of the campus, for people to see us like this, and I wondered what they might have thought if they had seen us in this embrace.
“Aren’t you worried what people might think, if they see you carrying me like this?” I asked.
“No. Why should I be? You hurt your ankle, and I’m carrying you home,” he shrugged, and continued to stare straight ahead, remaining expressionless. Hhhmm, what are you thinking, Mr. Holloway?
“What number are you?” he asked as he stepped inside the elevator to my building.
“Number 137, it’s on the third floor,” I answered. He struggled to push the button with me still in his arms, but managed all the same. As we rode up in the elevator, we waited silently when, as if reading one another’s mind, we locked eyes. I don’t know what happened, but in that moment, it was like we both simultaneously felt a surge of sexual chemistry, a spark between us, and then he smiled at me. “PING!” We reached my floor, and the elevator doors slid open, breaking our eye contact.
I fumbled through my purse with one hand to get out my keys. Once in my apartment, I switched on the lights – Mr. Holloway still carrying me in his arms. Then he placed me down gently on my sofa. My ankle was swollen, and throbbing violently.
“Do you have any ice?” he asked, as he scrambled frantically through my freezer searching for some. “Oh no, these will do,” he said, pulling out a pack of frozen peas, wrapping them in a tea towel that hung over the oven door handle, and walking back to me.
He knelt down on one knee before me and placed one hand gently on my calf and, with the other, placed the frozen peas on my swollen ankle. I no longer felt the pain. Instead, all I could feel was his hands on my skin, sending sparks of electricity pulsating through my body, making me inhale sharply from the connection. Fuck. The tension from my stomach had moved lower to my groin. His warm hands slid slightly up to rest behind my knee joint. Oh God, how I wanted those hands to continue moving further up my thigh. I bit my lip to try and control a moan from the endorphins surging throughout my body. His eyes were gazing down at my ankle. Damn it, what was he thinking? Does he not feel that pull? Suddenly his body shifted, and his mood changed. Concern and worry spread across his face and, in one swift move, he jumped to his feet and placed the peas in my hand.
“Okay, well I need to get back, as its late and I still have to finish some preparations for class.” He paused with a slight frown and a distant look in his eyes. “Will you be okay?” he smiled, but the smiled seemed forced. What happened?
“Err, yeah. Thank you for carrying me.” I frowned. All the tension of excitement had left my body, and all I felt was worry. I didn’t want him to leave. What had caused him to change his mood so quickly? Had I said or done something to upset him?
“Not a problem, Miss Fox, I couldn’t leave a damsel in distress.” He smiled sweetly and walked rapidly towards the door. “I’ll see you on Friday,” he said, and then he was gone.
The next few days went by in a whirlwind haze, as I had started my formal lectures. Wow, there was a lot to take in, but it was well worth the hard work. It was now Friday, and I hadn’t seen nor heard a thing from Mr. Holloway; not that I expected to. His strange change of mood the night I hurt my ankle plagued me. Why the sudden urgency to leave me?
Lunch time was nearly over, and I could feel the anxiety forming in my belly. I would see Mr. Holloway later that day, and I had no idea how to feel or act. Had he felt the electricity between us that I felt? Or was I over reacting, thinking that there was more to this than there actually was? Did he want me too? And then, like having a ton of bricks thrown straight at me, I realised that I had wanted him to want me. I knew it was wrong to think like that, to want that, but I couldn’t help it. He was my tutor, and it was against the rules, but is that why I wanted him? Because I wasn’t allowed to have him? They say you always want what you can’t have, and I had always been a sucker for wanting what I couldn’t have. I knew it was going to be hard, but I needed to ignore my feelings, lock them away in the dark part of my heart and keep them there. If I actually acted on my impulses, not only could I end up embarrassing myself from possible rejection, I could also lose everything I worked so hard to get and a whole lot of trouble with it.
Too late. Time was up. I had to face him.
I got to class early, and sat down in my usual seat. Melinda was there also, and we chatted about what she had been up to the previous weekend. She told me that she and Jim had gone to London at the weekend, to watch the comedian Jimmy Carr. Katie and Danny arrived then, and sat next to us. Katie clutched Danny’s arm, smiling proudly as if she was claiming him as her prize possession. Danny, however, was clearly very uncomfortable from Katie being so brazen with him, and he looked at me with a tight smile on his lips. I smiled sympathetically back at him. Poor guy.
The door opened and, in my mind, it was like slow motion: in he walked, placed his briefcase on the table, grabbed a whiteboard pen, and started to write on the board. Mr. Holloway looked hotter than ever, with a tight white dress shirt, skinny black tie, and tight black jeans. A wave of anticipation rushed through my body, and my legs started to twitched uncontrollably underneath the table. I was glad I’d worn my tight white maxi dress. It always got a lot of attention and compliments from where it hung, sleek and comfortable, over the curves and contours of my body.
All I wanted was for Mr. Holloway to see me in it. I needed to see if there was any reaction; to know that I wasn’t imagining the magnetism, to prove to myself it wasn’t only one sided. Turn around, damn it! And, as if he had read my mind, he turned and faced the class. Glancing around the room, his eyes locked with mine for a brief second, his face remained emotionless, and then he continued to scan the rest of the room. Okay, not the reaction I was hoping for. Fear took hold of me, and I suddenly felt very uncomfortable, and started to fidget in my seat. The twitching in my legs had turned from anticipation to apprehension. I swallowed down hard on the lump building in my throat.
Mr. Holloway had decided to go easy on us that day; he told us to take out our pencils and pads, and sketch another member of the class. Melinda and I had agreed on sketching each other, only after I had managed to relatively calm my nerves. Danny had no choice but to sketch Katie. And Katie, well, she spent more time posing and pouting than she did drawing. God, that girl was unbelievable! If I had to sketch her, the only thing that I would have drawn on my pad would be the word’s “I’m an insecure attention seeker.” I giggled to myself at the thought. I glanced over at Mr. Holloway, who was sitting at his desk, casually leaning back in his chair, legs crossed at the ankles on top of his desk, with his sketch pad on his lap, which he was staring intensely at, as he sketched whomever it was he was sketching. Who was he sketching?
The lesson was soon over – all too soon for me! – and whatever Mr. Holloway had been sketching on his pad had gripped his full attention for the whole of the session. From what I’d seen, he never seemed to look up once at the class. He was starting to niggle at me. I was beginning to think I’d done something wrong. I had to build up the guts and ask him. As I laid my sketch gently on his desk and waited for the last person to leave the classroom, I felt this was the perfect opportunity to ask what was wrong, to find out what really had happened the other night. Still fairly calm, I took a step around the desk closer to him.
“Mr. Holloway?” I murmured, trying to hold onto my calmness and not allow the nerves to grip my voice.
“Yes, Miss Fox?” he answered; still intensely sketching on his pad. I paused for a few more seconds, when finally he’d finished, and those big brown eyes looked up and locked with mine. He smiled sweetly at me.
“I was just wondering if… if everything was okay?” I asked. Keep it together, Kiera.
“If I was okay?” he frowned in puzzlement.
“Yes, well… you were so sweet the other night, carrying me to my apartment when I hurt my ankle, then, all of a sudden, it was like you couldn’t get out of there quickly enough.” I paused to regain my strength. “I hope I didn’t do something to upset you,” I said, and smiled shyly at him. He turned, looked at me, and rose from his chair, placing his sketch pad down on his desk; I glanced down at his pad, and realised who it was that he had been sketching this whole time. It was me. Noticing my reaction to the sketch, he quickly picked the pad up and handed it to me. Wow, he was good. I was in shock; he had such a good eye for detail and he had made me look… beautiful.
“Wow, this is brilliant, Mr. Holloway.” We locked eyes and smiled.
“Thank you, Kiera,” he said, then paused. Suddenly his eyes grew black and clouded, like some dark sinister thought had plagued his mind. “I told you before that I have an eye for beautiful things, Kiera, and when I look at you, that’s just what I see.” OH MY GOD! There was that sexy crooked smile, the one that could make any girls clitoris throb uncontrollably. It felt as if the rug I was standing on had been whipped out from underneath me, knocking me down to the ground, flat on my back. His eyes burned into mine.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Kiera. In fact,” he paused. “The reason I left was the fear of what I might have done, had I stayed any longer.” He moved closer to me so I could feel his breath on me, his face so close to mine, I froze. His eyes delving deep into mine, I felt very aware of the urges that possessed my body. As wrong as it was, all I could think of was how much I wanted him to kiss me right then. It felt as if he was going to, however, no movement was made.
He just stood still before me, all 6 foot 2 of him, gawking down at me with those seductively big brown eyes. My breath and heart rate increased. I couldn’t look away. Why can’t I look away? Okay, it was time to leave. Regaining my focus, finally prying my eyes away from his, I turned to head towards the door. Suddenly I felt his hand grab my wrist and tug forcefully at my arm, bringing me towards him, causing me to stumble hard against his chest and into his big strong arms. He then cupped my face with his hands and, before I knew it, his lips were on mine.
FUCKING HELL! I tensed at first with shock from the feeling of his lips on mine, but then my body gave in, and I opened my mouth to kiss him back, allowing him access to my tongue. Passion streamed through my veins as his tongue lightly probed and stroked mine. The feeling of his touch on me made my sex tremble with delight. One hand cupped the side of my face, whilst the other moved up from the nape of my neck and into my hair, grabbing my it tightly in his fist.
I was completely aroused as I pressed myself into his firm muscular body. I felt the heat rise between us; and I could hardly breathe as my heart pounded hard within my chest. Surrendering all the willpower I had, I ran my hands up his shoulders and fisted his hair as I kissed him. Is this really happening? The kiss became very intense and hungrier, as his tongue invaded my mouth. The feeling of his sweet mouth against mine sent shivers rippling down my spine. Oh my God, I want to fuck him here and now.
As we got caught up in the moment, we were unexpectedly brought back to reality when we heard the classroom door click open. Our eyes popped open with panic, and we rapidly dropped each other from our passionate embrace. Straightening myself out, I glanced at Mr. Holloway with shock and confusion. He, however, licked his lips, and a mischievous grin spread across his face as he glared at me with those dark and menacing eyes. God damn it, how far would we have gone if we hadn’t been interrupted? A tall grey haired man greeted Mr. Holloway from behind me.
My heart was still pounding. I had never been so scared and yet so immensely aroused in my whole life. I could still taste him in my mouth, and I licked hungrily at my lips, lapping ever last inch of him left on me. Fucking hell. I stood before him, confused and wanting more.
I had to leave.
© 2013, Carrie Anne Ward. Self-publishing, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.