School Girl

Today's muse: Three Word Wednesday

Today's words: plausible, taint, willingly
(and I even used them in that order!)

* * *

School Girl

Sneaking out of St. Augustine’s School for Girls was not only plausible, she thought, it would be a walk in the park. Well, a walk across the manicured lawn, two-lane country road, then up the limestone lane to Father Henry’s Academy.

Rhonda swiped lip gloss over pouty lips, puckered a kiss at her reflection. Stepping back from the full-length mirror, she undid one more button of her crisp white blouse, exposing a hint of the leopard-print bra beneath. The hem of her navy skirt hung several inches above her knees, revealing well-toned legs. Years on the swim team had served her well.

She debated wearing the baby-girl cotton panties that Jason had asked her to wear, but knew he wouldn’t mind that she’d decided to go commando instead. It would be much easier. She didn’t want to waste time with a languid prelude fumbling with clothes. Tonight, she wanted hard and fast.

Rhonda knew it was ridiculous to risk the danger for a tryst with someone she could never be with. Not in public, anyway; it would taint her unblemished reputation. It was worth it, she thought. Need coiled through her, bringing a flush to her cheeks. Jason was so unlike her other suitors; he was attentive, nubile and—damn!—he had stamina.

He had approached her at the coffee shop, shuffling over to where she sat alone, tucked in a dark corner. Rhonda could see he was nervous and knew his friends would tease him about it later. Yet there he was, stuttering a little, the tips of his ears reddening. Her heart flopped at that moment and she cursed it for yearning for the one thing she couldn’t have. It was the same every time.

Someone of her stature couldn’t be seen with the likes of him. She had convinced herself that what she was doing wasn’t wrong. He’d come willingly to her bed, and he was, she told herself over and over, a student at another school. Their relationship didn’t breach protocol at either institution. Technically.

Still, she mused, if the Headmaster found out she was banging the students at Father Henry’s—tutoring them in valuable life lessons—he’d likely ask for her resignation as Professor of French Literature at St. Augustine's.