by Lexi Archer
And yet this man standing in front of me was so damned delicious! He looked older, probably in his mid forties, but he definitely didn’t look like an old man. There was just a hint of white at his temples that hinted at his age but that was the only thing that gave it away. He didn’t have that many lines on his face. And he had broad shoulders and what looked like rippling muscles in his arms. He was in a suit, but it was obvious he was well put together under that suit. It was obvious he spent a good deal of time in the gym. Way more time than Steve put in at the gym, though I squashed that thought as soon as it flitted through my head.
I found myself wondering how this guy could have ever had a nerdy kid like… No. That wasn’t fair. I was not going to think mean things like that about my students, however true and obvious those not-so-nice thoughts were.
He sat down at the chair and it creaked under his weight. He was big. Not fat big, muscular big, but they say muscle weighs more than fat anyways, right? Either way, the chair seemed like it was in danger of collapsing under his weight. I wondered if I should go grab one of the metal chairs rather than the wood one I’d been using.
He extended a hand across the table and I reached out to take it. Our hands were a study in contrast. Mine was small, delicate, with bright pink nail polish. Hey, I might be a teacher but I still indulged in my youth in some ways. His was big. Really big. As our hands made contact mine was engulfed in his muscular hand. And I felt an electric shock running through my body where our hands made contact. I felt myself getting lightheaded as he took my hand in a firm grip. Not firm to the point that it caused pain, but definitely enough to let me know he was the one in charge of this situation. He was the one in command of the room.
“You must be Mrs. Reynolds,” he said.
Damn. That voice. It was a rich deep baritone that rolled over my body. It was like a symphony of sexuality that caressed every inch of my body as he spoke. And he still held my hand. I was in sensory overload. I had to shake my head and get ahold of myself as I realized he was staring at me with an eyebrow raised, waiting for me to respond. I needed to stop reacting like this! I needed to stop acting like a silly girl in one of my classes who had a crush. I needed to stop acting like the fantasy me I’d constructed with Steve’s help who threw herself at men with reckless abandon.
That was fantasy. Not reality. That wasn’t who I was!
“Please, call me Julie, Mr. Thompson.”
“And you can call me Craig.”
Craig. There was just something about the way it rolled off his tongue. It fit him. It made me want to sigh and repeat it, see how it sounded on my lips. His name wasn’t the only thing of his I wanted to feel on my lips... I shook my head again. I was in control here, damn it!
He glanced down at the engagement ring and wedding ring combo on my left hand and then returned his gaze to my eyes with a smile.
“So it’s Mrs. Julie, is it?”
I smiled. “Yes. Married for a year.”
He looked me down up and down once more and there was no denying the way he was looking at me. There was no denying that he was staring at me like a man on a mission, like a man who saw something he wanted. And rather than turning me off, rather than filling me with disgust like the other men who’d pulled very similar moves in other conferences this evening, I felt warmth burning in my stomach. I felt wetness gathering between my legs. I felt…
Turned on? Now that was a surprise. I didn’t get turned on when I found myself in scenarios like this. I only got turned on later when Steve was fucking me and I’d changed the whole scenario in my head, made the guy hotter, turned myself into a complete slut which was totally out of character compared to the real me.
Only as I looked at this guy he was already cocky, sexy, and confident without any modification required. I was already feeling more than a little slutty and even if it was out of character it was also so damned hot.
It wasn’t surprising that I was turned on by this delicious man in front of me, just that I was reacting this way. That I was allowing myself to lose control like this. I needed to regain that control. Of myself. Of the situation.
Only he didn’t let me. Once more he threw me off.
“I have to admit I was a little surprised when I walked through the door,” he said. I closed my eyes for a moment, perhaps for a moment longer than was strictly necessary, and enjoyed the feeling of his voice rolling over me. Then I was back to reality. Back to what he’d just said.
“Surprised? Why’s that?” I asked.
“When I heard my son’s teacher was a Mrs. I was expecting an older lady. You know the type. White hair in a bun. Spectacles. All that. The last thing I was expecting was a pretty young thing like you.”
I blushed again. I was blushing! What was wrong with me? I was a married woman. I definitely shouldn’t be indulging the kind of thoughts that were starting to run through my mind. The kind of thoughts that were usually so easy to keep in the realm of fantasy since the fantasies that grew organically from my experiences with men out in the wild were usually experiences with men that weren’t worth writing home about.
Only now I was discovering it was so very different when the guy was a handsome confident son-of-a-bitch like Mr. Thompson. It was filling my mind with impossible naughty thoughts.
Thoughts of what he’d look like without that suit jacket on. Thoughts of that ruggedly handsome face hovering over mine. I felt guilty because of those thoughts even as I thought about how Steve would love them. I was starting to feel revved up and ready to go in a way that I hadn’t since graduating college. Since I’d gone to the gym back at school and spent time with all the hard bodies there.
No, staring at him I was definitely starting to feel my sex drive kick into top gear. Looking at a guy and thinking he was hot, working up a fantasy that was incorporated into my married sex life, was one thing, but looking at a guy, thinking he was hot, and suddenly getting turned on in a way that I only should’ve with my husband was another thing entirely.
I really needed to take control of the situation, and I needed to take control of the situation right now. Not give him another chance to take control.
“That’s very nice, but I don’t think that’s entirely appropriate for a parent-teacher conference,” I said. “Why don’t we talk a little about your son…”
Craig held out a hand that stopped me. God his hands looked amazing. I wondered what it would feel like to have his hand running along my face, down my neck, moving down to cup one of my breasts. Maybe trace one of his fingers idly around my nipple as it strained out for him, begged for his attention. I licked my lips as I stared, transfixed, and then I realized exactly what I was doing and came crashing back to reality.
What the hell was I doing? What the hell was I thinking? I was a married woman. I was a teacher! This was a student’s parent! The last thing I should be thinking about in a non-fantasy context outside of the bedroom with my husband was how wonderful it would feel to have his hands running up and down my body!
“I’m going to stop you right there,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
He shrugged and smiled. It was such a winning smile. His teeth were absolutely perfect and pearly white.
“Look, you and I both know he’s a good kid. We both know he’s getting good grades. Coming down to this parent-teacher conference was really just a formality,” he said.
“Well that might be the case, but it’s still important to know how your child is…”
He cut me off again by holding up his hand and I was surprised at how quickly I was just going along with whatever he commanded. It was almost as though he had me under some sort of hypnotic control. I was hypnotized by his muscles, hypnotized by his ruggedly handsome good looks. I was hypnotized by how turned on I was by looking at him. I was feeling hotter and more turned on than I had in a good long while, as turned on as I got when I was spinning a story with Steve only now it was really happening and I was right in the middle of it. I fel
t another pang of guilt, spared another thought for Steve waiting for me at home, but the guilt was less this time.
One way or another I was going to have a hell of a story for my husband tonight.
The obsession with this man was taking over. I was starting to reach very dangerous territory. Territory that I needed to get away from. If I couldn’t keep control of this conference then it needed to end.
“Well if you’re not here to discuss your son’s performance then I’m afraid…”
He did it again. He held up a hand and I immediately went silent. I immediately launched into my study of his hands once more. It was as though he was a snake charmer and his hand was some sort of talisman. He exuded confidence, he exuded a casual cockiness that indicated he assumed I would do exactly what he wanted. I wondered if this was how he acted when he was sealing business deals or whatever the hell it was he did for a living. With a suit like that he had executive written all over him.
“I don’t think you want this conference to end, not yet,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I asked, but it was in a quiet voice.
I knew exactly what he meant. I knew exactly how I was acting. It was exactly how I imagined the fantasy version of me would act if she found herself in the presence of a hot guy she couldn’t resist. Only the line between fantasy me and reality me was blurring in one hell of a way right now.
And from the way he smiled he knew he had me. He stood and moved his chair back. It scraped along the tile floor and then he was moving across the room to my door. He leaned out for a moment and looked either way in the hall, but there probably wasn’t anyone out there. My room was already tucked away in a secluded corner of the school, and this close to the end of the night most of the other teachers were probably already long gone. I wondered what I’d managed to get myself into as he closed the door and it clicked behind him as he turned the lock.
4: Reality Me, Fantasy Me
“What do you think you’re doing?” I said, heat rising to my voice. A flush rose to my face even as that heat rose in my voice though. I knew exactly what he was doing, and I wasn’t going to stop him. Fantasy and reality were blurring and it was out of my control.
Apparently he knew that as well. He chuckled, a deep bass rumble that sounded so incredible. God, every time I heard his voice it was like pure sex going straight into my ears and down to my pussy. It was unfair that a man could look this good and sound that incredible at the same time! How was a girl to resist him?
By remembering that she was a happily married woman. That was how a girl resisted him! Only I was happily married to a man who was turned on by exactly this scenario. Even without that fantasy this delicious man’s cocky confidence made resisting him impossible.
“I’m not doing anything you don’t want me to,” he said.
“You’re not?”
I arched an eyebrow at that. Because I definitely wanted him to think I didn’t want him closing the door and locking it. There was still a voice that was screaming this was so wrong even if Steve wouldn’t have a problem with it. And yet if I was completely honest with myself there was also a small voice inside me, small but getting louder and more insistent, that was screaming out at the opportunity to be alone in a secluded spot fulfilling my husband’s naughty fantasy, my naughty fantasy, with this man.
Visions of him hovering over me, of me seeing that incredible body, of his muscles pumping and rippling as he pumped in and out of me, flew unbidden through my head. I had no control. Those thoughts just popped in there.
“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do Mrs. Reynolds,” he said.
He placed extra emphasis on the “Mrs.” part of the name. The way he placed that emphasis, hearing that coming from his voice, sent a jolt of electricity shooting straight down between my legs. That was a tone that promised things. Impossible things. Things I shouldn’t even be considering with the way my wedding ring was burning on my finger.
And yet here I was considering them.
“For instance Mrs. Reynolds,” he said. “Right now I just want to talk to you.”
Craig moved closer with every word. He approached me looking for all the world like some great jungle cat stalking its prey. He moved with a smooth grace, with a sleek sexiness that said he was on the hunt. He was on the prowl. And the way he was looking at me told me he had his prey in sight.
Instead of making me feel disgusted like I did with the other fathers, though, I just felt more and more turned on as he got closer. I felt heat rising through my body. I felt a flush rising to my face that had nothing to do with embarrassment. Moisture gathered between my legs and my nipples were straining out towards him. They pressed against the material of my button up shirt. A button up shirt that I was imagining him casually ripping apart with those powerful muscular arms.
“What did you want to talk about? Your son?”
Craig shook his head. He smiled as he moved behind my desk. Never once did he ask me if I wanted him behind my desk, he just moved there with a casual confidence that said that was exactly where he was supposed to be. Something told me that all it would take was a single word. All it would take was me looking up at him and telling him no, to leave, and he’d be gone. He’d honor my wishes.
Only I wasn’t going to tell him anything of the sort. And judging by the way he was looking down at me with that cocky grin on his face he knew I wasn’t going to tell him to stop. What was this man doing to me? Fuck, what was I doing? It’s like I was becoming the fantasy version of me, and it had me just as hot and bothered as I got when I was riding my husband spinning out a story.
Craig moved behind my chair and before I could react I felt those massive hands on my shoulders. I felt his body almost pressing against me though my chair was in between us. Damn I hated that my chair was in between us! His voice was a deep bass rumble right above me, right behind me, and I could feel the vibration radiating out from his chest onto my back as he started a gentle but deliciously firm massaging motion with those hands.
I sighed and leaned my head back into his chest without thinking. He was good. He was damn skilled! And the way he was moving his hands made it clear he knew what he was doing. He was so strong that he was able to get deep into my muscles and release tension I didn’t even realize was building there.
I felt another flash of guilt that I quickly stomped down. So what if Steve’s massages were never this good? So what if his idea of a good massage was moving his fingers in a circle on my shoulder for about ten minutes until he pulled me to the side and started making out because he thought that ten minutes of massaging was a fast pass to getting laid?
And yet now that I was in the hands of a master, in the hands of a man who seemed to know what the hell he was doing, the difference was like night and day. He was nothing like my husband, and it felt so incredible. My entire body was tingling and his hands were only making contact with my shoulders.
“You have a lot of tension,” he said.
“You try teaching a bunch of the teenagers all day long,” I said.
“That’s got to be tough,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve just got one teenager to deal with, a pretty well-behaved one at that, and it’s almost too much for me at times.”
“God! I would kill for a class full of students just like your son,” I said.
I started rolling my head back and forth without thinking. His hands were magic. Every place his fingers touched my back it was as though a relaxing tingle was shooting down from that spot into the rest of my body. It made me wonder what those magic fingers would feel like if they were running along other parts of my body, but that was taking things a little too far. I told myself that just getting a massage was okay. That wasn’t a big deal. It’s not like I was cheating on Steve by letting another man rub my back.
Was I? Was anything cheating if it would just get my husband’s dick good and hard when he heard about it?
No, it wasn’t cheating. He was just trying t
o help me relax. He was just showing concern. Only I’d seen the way he looked at me, and I knew that he was concerned with far more than the tension in my shoulders.
“Does your husband never do this for you?”
“He does, but it’s not that great,” I said.
Craig’s hands shifted subtly as I spoke. He moved down my back with one hand and down the front with the other. Only he was still just massaging. Sure he moved towards my tits, but it was innocent enough as long as I still had my shirt on.
“That’s a damn shame,” he said. “If I had a wife as pretty as you then I’d give you a back rub every night of the week.”
I let out a sigh that turned into something of a moan and my eyes flew open even as it slipped out. I definitely shouldn’t be moaning, no matter how good this guy’s massage felt! The only man who should ever hear me moaning was my husband, damn it!
“So what’s your husband doing right now?”
I jumped. That had come from right next to my ear. His lips were so close! How did he manage to sneak up on me like that? And yet feeling his voice so close to me was incredible. It was such a turn on. It felt as though he was fucking my ears with his delicious voice, and I wanted more of it. I was so startled that I had a moment of stupid honesty.
“Probably home fantasizing about me fucking a guy pretty similar to you,” I sighed.
The massaging stopped and my eyes flew open. Damn it! Why’d I go and say something stupid like that? Holy shit! I just practically threw myself at this guy with that line!
“I wasn’t expecting to hear that,” he said.
“Look Craig, I…”
“Oh no. That’s definitely where I was going with this. I’m just surprised to hear hubby is into it,” he said.
“Oh he is.”
“Of course the better question is are you into it?”
