Teacher's Pet

by Shelley Ellerbeck

  Allie smiled slowly. The intimacy of his gaze cut through everything and for an instant, all the noise, laughter and chattering seemed to fall away, leaving just her and him.

  “I’m not sure, Mr. Richmond. I’ll just go with the flow.”

  “Go with the flow. That sounds like a good idea.”

  His expression changed as the coach juddered to a halt in front of a Baroque-style hotel on a small side street just off the Place Stanislas. His professional persona took over and he stood up quickly.

  “Nobody gets off until I say so,” he began. “And Jordan, if you put your tongue out one more time at passers-by, you’ll be on the next plane back to London.”

  Allie caught Melanie’s eye and stifled a giggle.

  “This is going to be interesting,” she mouthed.

  Melanie smiled and nodded, then switched her gaze back to Billy, who was staring at the smooth grey stones of the hotel step. Allie’s eyes followed Paul, as he made his way to the front of the coach, jumped off confidently and strode over to the hotel entrance. As he spoke to the manageress, a well-groomed woman in her mid-fifties, she saw her eyes light up and a flirtatious smile spread across her harsh features. Allie sat up suddenly. My God, she thought. The first woman he speaks to thinks he’s coming on to her. Or am I going mad? She glanced quickly at Melanie, who was smiling quizzically at her.

  “The French love the way we Canadians speak their language,” she said. “Some of the words we use make them laugh. I think Mr. Richmond’s going to be a very popular man.”

  “Of course,” replied Allie. What was she supposed to say to that? Not only was he tall, charming and handsome, but he had the added bonus of a sexy accent for his perfect Canadian French. The chic women of the town would be queuing up to get to know him, and Allie would fade into drabness in comparison. “He’ll enjoy speaking French again, won’t he,” she added, trying to sound upbeat.

  “That, he will,” answered Melanie, her eyes on Paul now.

  The first evening in Nancy started off relatively uneventfully. After a quick tour of the park and main square, the children were fed and assigned to their bedrooms, as were the adults, quickly and efficiently. Once in her beautifully decorated room, sitting on her firm, starched linen-covered bed, Allie found herself staring at two small, bulging bags, one containing Miss Simpson’s make up, and the other her jewellery.

  “You’ve got to keep up with the latest fashions, haven’t you?” Miss Simpson had offered by way of explanation, as brightly-coloured beads, chains and bracelets spilled out onto the polished surface of the antique, Louis XIV dresser.

  Allie put her own compact make-up bag onto the small, carved oak bedside table and smiled.

  “Of course you have,” she said. “Especially in France.”

  “Oh yes,” agreed Miss Simpson, pushing her dark hair off her face and starting to apply a new layer of powder. “Those Frenchmen won’t know what’s hit them once we hit the clubs.” Clubs. Visions of hot, sweaty twenty-year-olds jumping up and down to pounding Euro-pop flashed through Allie’s mind. “Would you like to come out with us tonight?” Miss Simpson asked, a warm smile on her face.

  Suddenly Allie felt every month of her thirty-six years.

  “I don’t think so,” she said, forcing a yawn. “It’s really nice of you to ask, but I think I’m a bit too old for that.” She checked her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror. She looked flushed. Her light eyes were full of anticipation. “Someone needs to be in the hotel. In case there’s a problem with the kids.”

  “Mr. Richmond said he’d stay here tonight. So you needn’t worry.”

  Inwardly, Allie felt herself perk up.

  “I’ll stay close anyway. Just in case. Maybe go out for a coffee later, on the terrace.”

  “OK.” Miss Simpson stood up. “I’ll keep my mobile on. Paul… I mean Mr. Richmond’s got my number.” She headed purposefully for the door, bangles jangling. “Bye, Mrs. Johnson.”

  “Call me Allie, please.”

  “OK. Bye, Allie. Enjoy your evening.”

  “Bye. I’m sure I will.”

  As the door closed slowly, Allie began to smile. She was determined to enjoy her evening. With, or without Paul Richmond.

  Once all the children had settled down for the night, Allie found herself downstairs in the lobby, sipping a fruit juice at a low table with a rather fraught Melanie. Paul was upstairs, calming Billy. He had taken over, and was now reading Billy his favourite bedtime story for the sixth time. Miss Simpson had finally managed to get a heavily made-up and giggling Miss O’Hara out of the cool hotel, into the evening heat. Once outside, they had wasted no time. Allie had caught sight of them briefly, sitting at a café across the road from the hotel, drinking cocktails and chatting to two swarthy-looking young locals. Now, as she looked out again, she saw they had disappeared, leaving two empty glasses and an overflowing ashtray on the small round table in the middle of the busy, cobbled terrace area. A bored-looking waiter, with a cigarette protruding from underneath a bushy, black moustache, was slowly wiping the table, shaking his head, presumably at the absence of a tip.

  “They won’t be back until morning,” said Melanie, putting down her glass.

  “And good luck to them,” laughed Allie. “As long as Miss Simpson doesn’t wake me up, that’s OK by me.” She took in Melanie’s gleaming dark hair, simple, elegant linen trousers and vest top, and asked: “Are you thinking of going out tonight? Once Billy’s settled, that is?”

  Melanie nodded, visibly more relaxed now.

  “Yes. I’m taking Mrs. Patel exploring. Would you like to come and be our guide? Paul said he’d keep an eye on the kids tonight.”

  “Er, no thanks.” Allie tried to keep her voice light. “I’m whacked. I’ll keep Paul company, I think. I’ll probably have more energy tomorrow.”

  Melanie looked thoughtful all of a sudden.

  “You’re probably right. It’s better to have two adults here. Just in case.”

  “It might actually be a legal requirement, ladies.” A familiar, deep voice drifted over from behind Allie. She turned to see Paul approaching with Mrs. Patel, who lent an air of exoticism to the lobby, in a pink satin top and skirt, jewelled sandals and large hoop earrings. She immediately focused on her, to prevent herself from gawping at Paul, who was wearing his trademark jeans and short-sleeved shirt, emphasising the fact that a long coach ride had done nothing to alter his magnificent body. He still looked like a Greek God in civvies.

  “Wow! You look fantastic,” gushed Allie, directing her gaze towards the embroidery on Mrs. Patel’s skirt. “You’ll knock ‘em dead…”

  “I won’t stand a chance,” added Melanie, standing up.

  Mrs. Patel blushed.

  “I hope they do vegetarian food somewhere,” she said. “I’m fed up with baguettes and cheese.”

  Allie racked her brains for a moment.

  “Try Le petit Gourmand, on the main square,” she said. “I think they have a vegetarian menu. If they’re still there, that is.”

  Melanie smiled first at Allie, then at Paul.

  “Thanks, Allie. That sounds good. Any problems with Billy, just give me a call,” she said, as the two women turned to go. “Have a good night. Bye!”

  “Bye,” replied Allie, brightly. She was aware that Paul had sat down close beside her.

  “I’m sure we will,” he said, softly, as they walked out.

  Allie slowly turned to face him, picking up her glass again. He was leaning back on the deep, leather sofa, smiling at her, as though nothing had happened. She was caught slightly off guard by this. What was she supposed to do now? Pretend she was in charge. That was what.

  “Cheers,” she said, raising her glass with a confidence she didn’t quite feel.

  “Cheers, Allie.” He made no move to get a drink. “Tell me,” he began, sitting forwards and looking down briefly. “How did you feel about me walking out the other day?”

  Bloody Hell, she thought. You do
n’t beat about the bush.

  “Well, I suppose…”

  “Be honest, Allie.” His eyes clouded over. “Please.”

  “Well.” She swallowed hard, then put down her drink decisively. If he wanted the truth, that was what he was going to get. “I realised you were upset. And I suppose I can understand it,” she began. His dark gaze remained steady, unnerving her slightly. “But you have to realise I had no idea James was in the house. Really, no idea.” Paul nodded, unsmiling. “And he’ll be gone when we get back to London. He promised me,” she added, attempting a smile.

  “He will, will he?”

  “I’m sorry, Paul. The evening should have gone differently, shouldn’t it?”

  He cleared his throat.

  “I’m the one who should apologise. Not you, Allie. It was stupid of me to storm out. I’m really sorry. I ruined the evening, not you.” He hesitated. “I wish I’d stayed.”

  “So do I,” she said, feeling her cheeks burning.

  “Why was he there anyway?” he asked abruptly. “Had the Harpie thrown him out?”

  Allie smiled, and felt the somewhat frosty atmosphere around them melt a little.

  “In a word, yes. He had nowhere to go.”

  Paul sighed, running his hand through his hair.

  “So, he came back to look at what he left behind? And to mull over what a horrendous mistake he’d made?” His tousled locks lent his expression a hurt, puzzled look.

  “He just wanted somewhere to sleep, Paul.”

  “Is that all?” he asked, quietly.

  “Of course that’s all. We talked, then we went to bed.” She noticed Paul’s colour rise as he clenched, and then unclenched his fists. She continued hurriedly: “He slept in the spare room, Paul.”

  He switched his gaze quickly to a point on the floor, by her feet.

  “Paul,” she said. “Look at me.” When he lifted his eyes to meet hers, there was palpable anger in their depths. He said nothing. “Paul. You’ve got to trust me. There’s nothing between James and me. It’s over. He’s the twins’ father, that’s all.” She reached out and took his hand. Holding his gaze steadily, she said: “I wanted to be with you that night. Not with him.”

  Slowly, the anger disappeared and his eyes took on a tender glow again. He put his other hand over hers, stroking her skin gently.

  “I wanted to be with you, too,” he said. “But when I realised I couldn’t, I felt so angry, I could have punched James. I’m sorry, Allie. I really should have stayed.”

  There was a moment of hesitation. Allie could hear murmured conversation all around her, men laughing at the bar, someone ringing the bell at the reception desk. The noises seemed to come from a long way away, as if through a haze. She felt as though there were only the two of them in the room. Then, suddenly, before she could stop herself, the truth came out.

  “Paul. I want to be with you.” He smiled, and the ensuing warmth of his gaze reached into her heart. “Now,” she added, for good measure.

  “Your wish is my command, Mrs. Johnson,” he said, as he stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Would you like to come and inspect my room?”

  “Now, there’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

  “So. Don’t.”

  She was grinning like a Cheshire cat as he led her out of the foyer and up the stairs.

  At last, she thought. No neighbours, no cleaning ladies, no phone calls, no ex-husbands. Just me and the man of my dreams.

  They walked up the narrow staircase together, hand in hand. The skin of his fingers felt smooth and cool. Allie could hear her heart pounding. The sound filled her head. As they reached the first floor, Allie hesitated, pulling back a little.

  “Paul, what if anyone sees us?”

  He turned to face her, light from the large, stained glass window reflecting onto his hair, turning the light brown to gold.

  “So? What if anyone sees us? No one here knows us, do they?”

  She took in his powerful silhouette, his confident stance.

  “I don’t mean just anyone. What about the kids?”

  He smiled reassuringly.

  “Don’t worry about them. I mentioned to the concierge that if any of them should find their way downstairs, he should contact me in my room.”

  “When did you do that?”

  “Never you mind,” he chuckled. “The important thing is we’re safe. And so are they.”

  He swiped his card and they stepped noiselessly into the dimly lit, silent first floor corridor.

  “Are they all asleep?” Allie whispered, as Paul opened the door to his room and stood back to let her through.

  “I certainly hope so,” he said.

  He followed her in and closed the door quietly behind him, leaning back onto it. His eyes seemed to burn into her.

  “They should be exhausted after the trip,” he added.

  “Let’s hope so.”

  For a moment, Allie wasn’t quite sure what she should do. This was the moment she had been waiting for. The moment they had both been waiting for, yet all of a sudden she felt awkward. Unable to move. Like prey hypnotised by a predator. Albeit an extremely attractive one.

  “So, here we are,” she began, returning his gaze, the intense darkness of which made her stomach churn.

  He moved towards her and placed a finger on her lips.

  “It’s OK,” he murmured. “Don’t talk.”

  Before she could gather her thoughts, his arms were around her and his mouth was crushing hers. She gasped as she realised the savage force of his passion. He lifted her up effortlessly and laid her down on the embroidered linen quilt, kissing her face and caressing her body as he knelt down on the floor beside the bed. She sighed as she felt the heat travel downwards from her stomach, and cried out in ecstasy as it became a fire only he could quench. She relished the feel of his firm, muscular back and the curve of his powerful shoulders under her fingers. With his strong arms around her, she felt both desired and protected, coveted and revered. He murmured in a voice thick with emotion, and she could hear herself moaning in response, as if from afar. As the physical thrill crowded out all other perception, she felt herself being carried along by the rush of sensations to a place where words had no meaning and primeval instincts prevailed. She was engulfed by the overwhelming feeling of him possessing her, and her closing in around him. As she reached her peak, she could feel his rough cheek brushing hers and his firm hand covering her mouth, forcing her back down, prolonging the pleasure.

  Later, Allie and Paul were lying on the bed, their clothes scattered around them on the floor. She had snuggled into the space under his arm, a space she now felt confident she had a right to. She breathed in his musky scent, relishing the sensual images it conjured up and the waves of relaxation washing over her. Closing her eyes, she had a feeling that this was where she belonged. For the time being, she had no intention of moving.

  “Allie?” Paul’s voice sounded deeper than usual. “You’re not asleep, are you? That’s what us men are supposed to do. Not you women.”

  “No.” She rolled away from him slightly and stretched out lazily, aware that she could easily doze off, and it probably wasn’t a good idea. She should really be thinking of getting back to her room. Turning her head and letting her eyes linger on his smooth chest, she smiled. “Does that mean you’re going to go to sleep now, then? Being the man, and all that.”

  He propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze sweeping over her naked body and coming to rest on her face.

  “No,” he chuckled. “Not with a body like this next to me.” He began to stroke her flat stomach softly, almost absentmindedly. His eyes held hers. “I don’t intend to sleep tonight.”

  She felt a familiar stirring deep inside. Surely not.

  “Paul. We’re going to be wrecked tomorrow…” she began.

  He raised one eyebrow, eyes twinkling.

  “You mean, you’ve had enough?” he asked. “We were just warming up, weren’t we?”

>   She laughed out loud as he bent to kiss her shoulder, and slowly began to work his way down. She found her eyes drawn to the shape of the muscles in his back, which shifted and flexed as he changed position. The warm feeling in the pit of her stomach gradually began to work its way outwards.

  “I suppose resistance is futile,” she giggled, as his lips brushed the top of her legs.

  “Definitely,” he breathed. “Resistance is fun, but ultimately futile.”

  She closed her eyes and gave in. After all, she told herself, you only live once. And this, she admitted, as ripples of pleasure began to travel up her body again, this was living.

  Allie relaxed as cascades of warm water ran over her skin. Just about every muscle ached, and her senses were still tingling, heightened by the last few hours’ activity. She felt as though she had run a marathon, worked out for a week, not to mention cycled to Scotland and back. Totally exhausted, she felt a buoyant sense of exhilaration at the same time. She hadn’t just won the gold, but also drunk a bottle of champagne to celebrate.

  After a while she turned off the shower and stepped out reluctantly, groping for her watch in the small, steamy ensuite bathroom. Having finally torn herself away from Paul’s embrace and made it back to her own room, she was beginning to worry that Miss Simpson would now burst in on her, like some kind of puritanical teenage daughter, eyes full of disapproval at the thought of someone so much older than herself having fun. Or having sex. Or, God forbid, having both at the same time.

  Wiping the condensation off the face of her oversized red timepiece, she smiled: two o’clock in the morning, and still no sign of her young roommate. Well, well, well. Breakfast at eight looked like it was going to be fun. Miss Simpson and Miss O’Hara would presumably just stroll in off the street and sit down, she thought. Totally unaware of how much Allie had enjoyed herself without having to leave the hotel. Or pay exorbitant nightclub prices. Or dance to old Eurovision hits. Or even speak French.

  She opened the door and wrapped one thick, luxurious towel around her body, draping another over her shoulders. Stepping out of the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the antique mirror above the dresser. Waves of damp blonde hair swirled around her shoulders, the odd stray tendril sticking to her flushed cheeks. She looked happy. Content. Confident. Everything Paul made her feel. There was a new sparkle in her eyes, a new spring to her step. She felt desirable and sexy. Loved. Pausing for a moment to enjoy what she saw in the glass, she realised there had been no physical change in her outward appearance. She had, of course, always looked like this. The transformation came from within. From her perception of herself. And the happiness that radiated out from her very core, lighting her up. She grinned at the thought: she could save a fortune. No need for plastic surgery, facials, a diet, or a makeover. As long as she had Paul Richmond, she would always feel beautiful.