by Suzy K Quinn
Trinity asks if I need a taxi to get back to campus, but I tell her I’d rather walk and explore London. She gives me a fold-up map, and I set off into the sunshine.
I soon find myself walking through Sloane Square, past designer clothes shops and red-brick apartments. There are all sorts of delicious-looking cafes and restaurants dotted around, and I stop for a hot chocolate at an Italian deli, taking a table on the street so I can watch London life go by.
I take out my phone and see five missed calls from Jen. I call her back, and am rewarded with her screeching down the phone.
‘Sopheeee!’
‘I think you just deafened me.’
‘Where are you?’ Jen asks. ‘I’m on your campus. I came down for a surprise visit, but you’re not here. Are you being a dirty stop out?’
You have no idea.
‘I’m just in West London,’ I say. ‘Near Sloane Square. At somewhere called Antonio’s.’
‘Will they mind me parking at your college if you’re not there?’ Jen asks.
‘I doubt it,’ I say.
‘Then stay where you are – I’m coming to meet you.’ The line goes dead.
Half an hour later, I’m about to order another hot chocolate when Jen comes bounding up to the table. She throws her arms around me, and I hug her back.
‘She’ll have a cappuccino,’ I tell the waiter, ‘no chocolate on top.’
‘And she’ll have another hot chocolate,’ Jen tells the waiter. ‘As much whipped cream as you like – she thinks she’s too skinny.’
We grin at each other.
‘Well?’ says Jen. ‘What are you doing in this part of London so early? Did you stay out with someone last night?’ She leans closer.
I look at my hot chocolate. ‘Yes and no,’ I say. ‘I was in hospital.’
‘In hospital?’ Jen’s hand shoots to her mouth. ‘Oh my god, Soph. What happened? Why didn’t you call me?’
‘It was all so quick,’ I say. ‘It was nothing serious, in the end. Ryan put something in my drink, and it gave me a funny turn.’
‘He did what?’ When Jen gets angry, she gets really angry. ‘He put something in your drink? Wait until I get a hold of him.’
‘I know. Total scumbag. But don’t worry. Marc already gave him what for. I imagine he’s suitably chastised. And he won’t be spiking anyone’s drink again.’
‘Wow.’ Jen flicks her blonde hair from shoulder to shoulder. ‘Marc Blackwell stepped in and talked to him? What a great guy. Hey – speaking of which, you’ll never guess what I found out on the PR grapevine.’
‘What?’
Jen leans closer. ‘That sexual scandal about Marc Blackwell? Ropes, paddles and all of that? Well, apparently he’s into a bit of spanking too.’
I nod.
‘Do you think it’s true?’
‘I’m positive it’s true,’ I say.
‘How come?’
Jen’s cappuccino arrives, and I don’t answer for a moment, waiting for the waiter to leave.
Then I whisper, ‘Because he told me.’
‘He told you?’
‘When I was in hospital, he came to see me,’ I say. ‘And he had me transferred to a private place in West London. He got me my own nurse. And he came to visit me there.’
Jen’s eyes grow wider as she picks up her cappuccino.
‘And ... we’ve ... things have happened between us.’
Jen puts her cappuccino back on its saucer with a clatter. ‘Something happened between you and Marc Blackwell!’
‘Shssh!’ I look around. ‘Yes. Something is ... well, happening I guess.’
‘I want to know everything,’ Jen leans closer.
‘It’s ... complicated,’ I say. ‘He’s complicated.’
‘I’ll bet. What with the spanking and everything. Has he done that to you?’
I shake my head. ‘But I think he wants to.’
‘And how do you feel about that?’
‘It’s hard to know what to feel. This is all so new for me – all of this. I’ve never felt this way about anybody, but then there’s all this weird stuff that goes with it. I mean, you know me. I’m hardly experienced in ... well, anything. What if I can’t handle what he wants to do?’
‘Then just say no.’
‘It’s not that simple. He tells me to do something, and I want to do it.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’
‘What if he only likes me because I’m his pupil? What if that’s his thing? I mean, he’s a good person, before you say it. He knows it’s not right for the lecturer to be doing anything with a student.’
‘And what have you done, exactly?’ Jen asks.
‘A few things,’ I say. ‘But we haven’t had sex yet.’
Jen shakes her head. ‘Wow. Well, I’ll try and find out as much as possible about him through my agency. Forewarned is forearmed.’
‘Thanks Jen.’
‘I know he’s hot,’ she says. ‘But ... well, morally speaking he shouldn’t be messing around with his students.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘But he didn’t want to. He tried to walk away. He’d leave the college if I let him. It’s me. I can’t bear the thought of walking away from him. Just being near him feels amazing.’
‘I bet it does.’
‘But I know it isn’t right, the way things are happening. Or at least, it’s not normal.’
‘Soph. You worry too much. If you’ve got something going with Marc Blackwell, just enjoy it for what it is. And you can look back when you’re happily married to some nice, normal guy and think, I had a fling with that hot actor when I was younger.’
‘But what if I want it to be more than that?’
‘Ah.’ Jen takes a sip of cappuccino. ‘Well, that’s your problem. Look, he’s obviously got commitment issues. No long-term girlfriend. Likes to be in control. Wants everything on his terms. Soph, you can’t expect to have a usual sort of relationship with a man like that. Just enjoy it for what it is, and try not to get too hurt when it ends.’
‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘I know you’re right. But then ... if it’s going to end, maybe I should get out now before I get hurt.’
‘Maybe you should,’ says Jen. ‘But you’re only human. And I know you. You come across all softly, softly, but you’ve got a steel hand under that velvet glove. When you want something, you don’t care what anyone tells you. And you want him, right?
I smile at her. ‘I think we both know the answer to that.’
She nods. ‘So. Enjoy it right now, and prepare yourself for heartbreak down the line. That’s life. You can cope with heartbreak. It won’t kill you.’
‘I don’t know about that.’
‘So, what are we going to do today?’ asks Jen.
‘I could show you around the campus,’ I say. ‘Introduce you to the other students.’
‘For a creative person, you can be very unimaginative,’ says Jen. ‘We’re in the middle of London. There are a billion things to do. I’ve got a guidebook and ringed the things we should try out. Are you ready? It’s going to be fun!’
Jen and I have a great day. We visit Harrods, and buy picnic food to eat in Regent’s Park. A few tough, city squirrels try to steal our food, and we end up running away, screaming and laughing.
We see a movie in Leicester Square, and finish our popcorn walking around in the sunshine, watching the tourists and Londoners shop in Covent Garden.
Predictably, Jen has armfuls of shopping by the end of the day, and we head back to campus to order a takeaway in my bedroom.
I invite Tom and Tanya over, and all four of us eat Chinese food, drink red wine and watch the sun set over the campus. We watch the Star Wars movies and Jen asks Tom and Tanya endless questions about their backgrounds.
Tom tells us he’s from London originally, so knows the city like the back of his hand. He went to a London boarding school from a very young age. At weekends, he and his friends visited the theatre and he always did amateur dr
amatics in his spare time. His parents are actually a Lord and Lady, I’m surprised to hear. It’s true that Tom is well spoken, but he’s really down to earth.
Tanya tells us her parents are divorced, and she spent her teenage years in a custody battle between the two of them. She ended up living with her mum, falling out with her, then moving in with her dad when she was at college.
She’s been to university, but quit because she took the wrong course. She’s always loved drama, but her dad wanted her to be a lawyer. Two years of law told her that’s not what she wanted, and now she’s over the moon to be studying at Ivy College.
Tanya and Tom ask me what happened on Saturday, and I tell them I had a funny turn and ended up in A&E.
We’re having a great time, but my thoughts keep drifting to Marc.
Just as we put on Return of the Jedi, my phone rings, showing a number I’ve never seen before.
I am SO happy you’re still reading!
Want to chat with me on Facebook? You can here:
http://www.facebook.com/suzykquinn
If you look like my sort of person, I’ll accept your friendship.
Be quick though – I’ve nearly at my Facebook Friend limit :).
Also, here’s a little window into my writer’s world –
the Pintrest board I used whilst writing this book.
https://uk.pinterest.com/suzykquinn/ivy-lessons/
No more interruptions I promise.
See you at the end, lovely lady.
Suzy K Quinn xx
Chapter 38
My heart begins to pound.
‘Back in a sec,’ I mutter, running out to the balcony. I take the call.
‘Hello?’
‘You’re not alone.’ It’s Marc’s voice. My stomach turns over.
‘No, I’m not. How did you know that?’
‘Because I’m on campus, watching your window.’ I look over the dark grounds, but I don’t see anyone.
‘I can’t see you,’ I reply.
‘I can see you right now on your balcony. And I see your friends in the background. I wish you were alone.’
‘You do?’ I feel myself smile.
‘Yes. But right now, I just wanted you to know that I’m watching over you.’
‘Thanks,’ I stammer. ‘Marc, I’m nervous about tomorrow. I don’t know what you mean about -’
‘I want you to arrive for class twenty minutes early,’ he says. ‘Your class tomorrow will be different from everyone else’s. Don’t wear any underwear.’
With that, the line goes dead.
The next morning, my room smells like takeaway and my living area is a mess. Empty wine bottles and glasses, takeaway containers ... I wish I’d accepted everyone’s offer to help clear up last night.
I shower, wash up and bag rubbish. As I head down to the recycling area in the sweatpants and t-shirt Marc bought me, I see Ryan loitering in the reception area by the post boxes.
‘Hello,’ I say coldly. ‘If you ever, EVER pull a stunt like spiking my drink again you’ll be sorry. Okay?’
‘Sophia ...’ He looks startled. ‘I tried to find you before. To say sorry. I never thought anything like that would happen. I just wanted you to lighten up and have fun with me.’
I think of what Marc said, about Ryan liking me.
‘Just don’t ever do anything like that to anyone again,’ I say.
‘Mr Blackwell has already read me the riot act.’
‘He told me you ... have feelings for me,’ I say softly.
‘What does it matter?’ Ryan snaps. ‘You’re already goo goo over Mr Blackwell, just like every other girl on the course.’
‘I honestly thought you hated me,’ I say.
Ryan laughs. ‘Hated you? I do in a way. It’s hard, seeing someone you like and not being able to have them.’
‘I guess it is,’ I say.
Chapter 39
When I return to my room, there’s a text message waiting. I catch my breath when I see it’s from Marc.
Don’t forget. No underwear.
I think over the message, and what Marc said on the phone last night. All this stuff about punishment and telling me what to do. When Marc tells me to do something, it’s hot. And him asking me to wear no underwear to class is hot. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to do absolutely everything he tells me.
I take off the sweatpants and t-shirt, and examine myself in the bathroom mirror. I have a skinny, pale body, no question about that. Not very womanly. A small waist, which is nice, and a weird gap between my thighs, which is not so nice.
My breasts are okay. Nothing special. Same with my bottom, although boyfriends have always complimented me on it. So. What does he see in me? Youth? We’re only a few years apart in age. The whole pupil, teacher thing? Perhaps. But there are plenty of pupils he could have chosen, many of whom are far more beautiful and experienced.
But I’m in this now.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
So. No underwear.
My hands tremble a little as I take off my panties and catch a glimpse of my naked body. I’m very natural looking. Jen is always going on about bikini lines, but I can’t bear to tear hair out of myself, and I kind of like everything as it should be.
Dressing in jeans and an off-the-shoulder silk top, I realise I’ve chosen badly. The jeans cut into me, and the silk top shows my breasts a little too clearly. I choose a thick, sequinned blue jumper instead, and team it with leggings and ankle boots. No one can see anything that way, and I’m comfortable.
I check my watch and, realising it’s nearly half an hour before class, I grab my bag and head towards the lecture theatre.
Marc is waiting for me when I arrive, perched on a desk wearing a pin-striped suit. No tie, as usual, and his top button undone. His hair has been combed down, and looks soft and touchable. He raises an eyebrow when I appear in the doorway.
‘Glad to see you on time. Underwear?’
‘No,’ I squeak, feeling very exposed.
‘You’re familiar with the stationery cupboard,’ he says, walking to the cupboard and opening the door. I watch his long fingers turn the handle, and the strong tendons stand out on his hands.
‘You know I am.’
‘You’re about to get more familiar with it,’ says Marc. ‘In you go.’
I walk into the cupboard, but I’m prepared to tell him where to go if he suggests doing something I don’t like.
Inside the stationery cupboard, I see something that makes me stop dead. There are two small metal hoops screwed into one of the shelves above the desk. A length of rope runs through them.
On the desk sits a bamboo cane – the old-fashioned kind you see in Victorian classrooms. I stare at the little joins along its length.
‘What’s that for?’ I ask.
‘You’ll speak when you’re spoken to,’ says Marc. He turns me around so my back is against his chest.
‘Marc -’
‘You can stop any time,’ Marc whispers, shutting the cupboard door. ‘Just tell me. But you wanted to know me. All of me.’ His lips twitch. ‘The dark side.’
He pushes me forwards until I’m pressed against the desk and ties my hands in front of me with the rope. Then he pulls the rope tight, and my hands shoot into the air.
‘Oh!’ I say in surprise, and Marc ties the rope into a complicated knot.
‘If you want to be released,’ he says, ‘just pull this part of the rope and the knot will undo. This is one hundred percent consensual. I want you to know that.’
I’m glad I can pull the rope down.
Marc pulls my leggings halfway down my thighs and caresses my buttocks with his hand.
‘Well done. No underwear.’
He pushes up my jumper and ties a knot in it so my buttocks are exposed.
Then he picks up the cane. He tests its springiness in his hands, then swishes it back and forth and my stomach goes weak.
He rubs it back and forth over my buttock
s, and I feel its smoothness and the little bumps of its joins. It’s torturous, not knowing if he’s going to whack me with it, and I think he knows it.
‘Are you going to hit me?’ I ask.
‘Do you want me to?’ He pulls the cane back.
‘Maybe,’ I admit, feeling hot between my legs. ‘But not hard.’
He brings the cane towards me, but stops an inch before my buttocks.
‘Oh,’ I moan, leaning into the ropes.
He puts the cane down. ‘Wait here.’
‘You’re going to leave me here?’
‘I have a class to teach.’
‘What? You’re going to leave me in here when you’re teaching a class?’
‘Yes. So you’d better be quiet.’
With that he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.
Moments later, I hear pupils arriving and taking their seats. I can’t hear what anyone is saying, but I can hear the low hum of conversation.
Against it, Marc’s deep voice resonates in my stomach. I feel the nakedness of my backside and ache for him to come back and touch me. How long does he plan to leave me here?
The conversation lowers to silence, and I hear Marc talking to the class. This is torture. I want him to touch me so badly, and – I have to admit it – use the cane like he threatened. I see it there beside me and feel so turned on. But now I’ll have to wait until class is finished. Or will he leave me here even longer? I won’t stay if he does.
Suddenly, I hear a creak of hinges and see the door handle turning.
Oh my god.
I see Marc in the doorway. No one from class could see me unless they walked right into the cupboard.
Marc closes the door behind him.
Chapter 40
‘What are you doing?’ I hiss. ‘The whole class is out there.’
‘Be quiet.’ Marc picks up the cane. Holding it high in the air, he smacks it on my buttocks. There’s a tiny ‘thack’ sound, but not loud enough to be heard outside.
I gasp, and bite my teeth together to stop from crying out – not from pain, but from pleasure. The line where the cane hit tingles, and my stomach turns over and over. I want him to do it again. So badly. And he does. Once. Twice. Three times. I hear a light swoosh as the cane flies through the air, and my knees go weak.