The Principal of Pleasure: Principal's Pet: The Principal of Pleasure Book One: A Steamy Romantic Novella

by Aria Blue

  He went straight to her office, closing the door behind him. He took a seat in the recliner that was reserved for her students, a place to help them feel comfortable.

  “What you said was totally unfair. You don’t have a right to judge me. You don’t know what I do and I’m definitely not the same man I was when we were together.”

  Sara lifted the lid of her laptop and started typing. “If there’s one thing I know it’s Presley McGuire, whether I want to or not. You want to tell me you’ve never slept with that woman.”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  Sara squinted at her screen. “I’ll take that as a yes. You don’t need to lie to me. It’s not like I have high expectations. I don’t expect anything different from you Presley McGuire.”

  He sat up. “Why do you have expectations at all? We’re not anything to each other anymore. You know what, Sara. I’m tired of you judging me and acting like my mother. I’m a grown man. I’m single. I’m not in a relationship with anyone. So what, if I have sex? That’s a crime?”

  She finally looked away from her laptop and made eye contact with him. “Not a crime, but you and I both know that a principal shouldn’t be sleeping with his teachers. I’m sure she’s not the only one you’ve fooled around with.”

  Actually she was and Presley resented the fact that she assumed otherwise. “Listen, Sara, we have to work together apparently and I don’t want to spend all year fighting with you. No matter what I do, you’re going to think of me as some womanizing dog and I’m beyond exhausted trying to prove that I’m not. Let’s put our personal stuff aside and do our jobs. Let’s work on that schedule.”

  Sara slammed the lid of her laptop shut. “I can figure it out, but you’re right. We need to leave our personal stuff at the door and do our jobs. Bang as many employees as you want. Makes no difference to me. Knock yourself out, Presley. But you’d better know, sooner or later, it’s all going to catch up to you and the shit’s gonna hit the fan.”

  Presley relented, deciding to let her think she had won that argument if you could even call it that. She would always believe he was banging everything in a skirt, and frankly, it shouldn’t matter what she thought anymore.

  “Why’d you cut your hair?” he asked.

  She ran her hand over her head to smooth her hair down. Her features showed a brief flash of insecurity “What you don’t like it?”

  He shrugged. “It’s cute, but you know I’ve always been partial to long hair.”

  Sara went back to her laptop, refusing to look at him. “I just needed a change.”

  “A change,” Presley repeated.

  She sighed, leaning back in her seat. “I cut it because of you, Pres. It’s that what you wanted to hear? I cherished my long hair my entire life, but because of you, because I know how much you loved it and how much you had broken my heart, I cut it off. My father was pissed about it. He said I didn’t look like his angel anymore. Now he hates you more than he did before.”

  Presley sat up feeling guilty even though he had nothing to feel guilty about. “Sarah, I’m sorry about what happened between us, but I did nothing wrong. It was your fault we broke up because you refused to trust me. That stupid friend of yours, Darby, she’s been trying to break us up since we got together. I told you that girl was always jealous of what we had. She either had a crush on me . . . or you, but for whatever reason, she didn’t want us to be together.

  “All it took was her lying to you about some fictitious woman she claimed to see me with and you believed her. You didn’t even give me a chance.”

  Sara slammed a pen down on her desk. “She had pictures, Presley.”

  “Fake pictures. They were totally photoshopped.”

  She shook her head. “I spoke to the woman myself. She was more than happy to tell me every single gory detail of what the two of you did.”

  “She was lying, Sara!”

  Sara’s face crumpled on the verge of tears. “Why would she lie. Presley? What would she have to gain from that?”

  “I don’t know. People do crazy things all the time with no explanation. Darby put her up to it.”

  Sara stood, pulling her purse from her desk drawer. “I knew this was going to be a problem. I shouldn’t be having this discussion with you. I should be getting my work done, but now I’m totally distracted and I just want to leave to get away from you.”

  Presley got up and wiped his hands on the sides of his pants. “Fine, I’ll leave and the two of us will never have another discussion that isn’t work related. And for the record, Ms. Snow, you were the one who broke my heart. You were the first woman I ever loved—the first woman I ever gave my heart to and you ripped it out of my chest and stomped on it. I was faithful to you. What was the point of being faithful if I were going to be accused of cheating anyway? I was committed to you one hundred percent. I would have done anything for you and you wouldn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt. You taught me to never love another woman again. It’s not worth it.”

  Sara opened her mouth to say something, but Presley was gone before she could.

  Chapter 7

  The day after had been the strangest day of Presley’s career. Things with the women of McGuire Prep were already bad enough. Marcia wasn’t speaking to him even though he had sided with her and she had gotten her way. Ms. Jones was trying her hardest to catch him doing something wrong, and Sara was practically breaking her neck trying to avoid him.

  That morning, Mrs. Wimberly teetered into his office carrying a basket almost as big as she.

  “What’s that?” Presley asked.

  She plopped the huge thing on his desk. “A gift from one of the PTA mothers.”

  The basket was full of muffins, cookies, and all sorts of goodies. Presley usually got gifts on his birthday or on Principal Appreciation Day, but not usually out of the blue like that.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Wimberly.”

  “You got it.” She left him alone, closing the door behind him.

  A card was attached to the basket. Presley pulled it from the small envelope and read it aloud. “I hope these are as delicious as you are—Mrs. Talbert.”

  He vaguely remembered who Mrs. Talbert was and he wasn’t interested. Presley ran the card through the shredder before Ms. Jones or anyone else could see it.

  Mrs. Cross had called him three times during the day just to “talk”. She’d even asked him to close the door to his office and talk dirty to her. He had declined.

  Throughout the day, Presley received three plants for his office, a fruit basket, and a basket filled with all sorts of expensive colognes. The office staff was just as perplexed as he was.

  “What’s going on?” Mrs. Santana asked. “I checked the calendar. It’s not your birthday or anything.”

  Presley had no answer for her other than the women had gone crazy.

  Things took a stranger turn after that afternoon’s bake sale.

  As usual, whenever the PTA wrapped up an event, the mothers would gather in the PTA office to gab, gossip, and talk about the function. Presley had always made it a habit to go in and thank the women for all their hard work, but he wasn’t quite ready to face Heather and Kelly after the steamy encounter they’d shared. Presley knew it shouldn’t have happened and he wanted to forget about the whole thing. He asked Ms. Jones to hop in and address the mothers, but she had refused with a smirk. She wouldn’t be granting him any favors any time soon.

  Taking a deep breath, Presley stepped into the PTA office, planning to be in and out. The room buzzed with noisy chatter so Presley raised his voice to be heard over it. “Ladies, I’d just like to thank you all for the time and effort you gave today. This was the best bake sale yet and I can’t wait to hear how much money we raised.”

  The women cheered and moved in a little closer to him. There were about twenty women in the room, but to Presley, it suddenly felt like a hundred. A woman whose name he couldn’t remember, handed him a red plastic cup. She looped her arm arou
nd his. “You looked parched Principal McGuire.”

  Presley took the cup and sniffed it. He knew Vodka when he smelled it. Heather stood in front of him smiling seductively. “Surely you don’t mind, Principal. We’ve all been working so hard so we could use a little relaxation, don’t you think?”

  The other women giggled holding up their cups. Presley shrugged and took a drink. Before he knew it, the women had crowded around him. They were taking turns planting themselves in front of him trying to start a conversation, but after a few seconds a new mom would push herself to the front.

  “Did you get my basket?”

  “How did you like the plant?”

  “I made those cookies myself—from scratch!”

  What was going on with these women? Then Presley knew. His worst fear had come true. Heather and Kelly had told the others about their threesome.

  This was the worst thing that could have happened. It wasn’t just about Presley losing his job—something like that getting out would make headlines and the reputation of McGuire Prep would be destroyed. Who would want to send their kid there?

  Presley had to get out of there and stay as far away as he could from the mothers. Like a saving grace the dean came over the PA system. “Principal McGuire, please report to my office immediately.”

  “Ohhhhhhhhhh,” the women said playfully. They crowded around him like lionesses getting ready to pounce.

  Even though Presley wasn’t so keen on being called to his father’s office because it was never anything good, he was happy for a reason to escape the room.

  “Somebody’s been a bad boy,” Kelly shouted.

  Presley put the cup down and pulled a stick of gum from his pocket. “Thanks again, ladies. Keep up the great work. This is going to be the best year ever.” Then he dashed from the room.

  Unfortunately, Dean McGuire wasn’t alone in his office. Ms. Jones sat in a chair across from the dean, looking very pleased about something.

  Presley squared his shoulders and braced himself. “You wanted to see me, Dean.”

  The dean rolled his eyes at his son’s formality. “Have a seat, son.”

  Presley took a seat beside Jones wondering why she had to be there. “What can I do for you, Dean McGuire?”

  Dean McGuire rubbed his temples. “Son, what the hell is going on with you and the mothers at this school? They’re walking around here looking like street walkers trying to get your attention. This is a place for education. I think I’m going to have to impose a dress code for the parents.”

  Ms. Jones nodded, showing she was in total agreement.

  “Then,” the dean continued, “there’s the constant phone calls. The office staff has been taking gifts all day that have been delivered to you. Someone sent a cake shaped like a penis which we threw away immediately. Then the mothers are draped all over you like you’re some sort of celebrity.”

  Presley gulped. He hadn’t known about the penis-shaped cake. “Father, with all due respect, how is any of this my fault? I’m aware that I have a way with women—I’m handsome and charming, I’ve been told. I get that from my father, but Dad, I can’t control these women’s behavior.”

  “You can’t control it,” Ms. Jones said, “but you don’t have to encourage it.”

  “I don’t encourage it,” Presley said defensively.

  Ms. Jones continued. “You do. You’re the principal and you don’t tell them to stop. You don’t separate yourself from them. You put yourself in positions that look less than professional.”

  Presley frowned at her. “What am I supposed to do? Be rude to them? Ignore them? They’re parents for crying out loud. And that PTA does a lot for this school.”

  “There’s a difference between being friendly and then being downright unprofessional. Do you see the fathers fawning all over me? Do you see them sending me gifts?”

  There were so many things Presley wanted to say to that, but his father’s sharp look stopped him. He knew his son all too well.

  Dean McGuire cleared his throat. “Ms. Jones, will you excuse us, please? I can take it from here.”

  Jones pressed her lips together because she hated to be left out of meetings—especially meetings were Presley was going to get ripped a new one.

  “Fine,” she said tightly. She left the room, slamming the door behind her.

  “Dad, I mean it. I’m not fucking around this time. How is any of this my fault? How am I supposed to stop these women?”

  Presley knew he was lying to his father. The whole situation was totally his fault. He had screwed two mothers who had obviously spread how wonderful the experience had been and now all the other women wanted a piece of the action. The women had crushed on him before, but this was something different. They didn’t just want to smile at and flirt with Presley. They wanted to straight up fuck him.

  He threw his hands up. “Since I’m clearly an idiot. Please tell me what I’m supposed to do to solve this problem?”

  The dean stood, pacing back and forth in front of the large bay windows of his office. “Presley, I’m not stupid. I’m aware of the effect you have on women, but you have to act like you have an ounce of common sense. Ms. Jones told me she found you with two of the PTA moms alone backstage in the dark.”

  Damn Ms. Jones, Presley thought. “They needed help. I was only—”

  “It doesn’t matter what was going on. You shouldn’t have put yourself in a position where it looks like something is going on. This school can’t afford these types of scandals floating around it. Use your head.”

  Presley was tired of arguing. Between Sara, Ms. Jones, and his father, it was all too much. “Fine, Dad. Can I go now?”

  Dean McGuire sat back in his seat and Presley knew that meant no. His father wasn’t done talking. “How are things working out with Sara?”

  “Fine, Dad. Totally fine.”

  “She’s great with the students.”

  Presley shrugged. “Of course she is. Sara Snow is perfect at everything.”

  The dean sighed. “Listen, I was just trying to have a man-to-man conversation with my son. Anyway, we’re done here.”

  Presley felt bad. He would have loved to talk about anything with his father—anything but Sara.

  Presley thought all the fight was gone from him, but he discovered he had a little more when he passed Ms. Jones' office. She was scribbling something on a pad. He stepped inside her office, closing the door gently behind him.

  Ms. Jones looked up, blinking. “Presley. I’m busy right now.”

  “Well, unbusy yourself.”

  She sucked her teeth at him ready to argue, but he cut her off. “Whether you like it or not, I am your superior. We need to talk.”

  She dropped her pen and crossed her arms over her chest. “Talk about what?”

  “I think you need a little refresher on how the chain of command works. You are the vice principal. If you have a problem, you need to report to me, the principal, before you go to the dean.”

  Ms. Jones smirked. “Normally I would agree with you, but when the principal is the problem, he leaves me no choice but to go over his head to the dean. I can’t have a conversation with you. You’re an idiotic, incompetent man-child who serves no purpose but to be eye candy for a bunch of sexless middle-aged women. You’re a pathetic joke and we all know there’s only one reason you have this job.”

  Presley swallowed hard. He never liked to speak to women in a harsh manner—his mother had always taught him not to, but Ms. Jones deserved it. He stepped closer to her desk, towering over her. “Why are you always so uptight and bitter? You know what you need? A great big dick.”

  Ms. Jones’ eyes grew big and she gasped, but Presley wasn’t done.

  “Yeah, a great big dick in your mouth, up your ass, in your—”

  Jones slammed her hands on her desk and stood abruptly. “Have you lost the little mind you have? You can’t speak to me like that. I could sue you for sexual harassment, you vile pig.”

  Pre
sley nodded. “Yes, you could do that, but you won’t. We both know that.”

  She narrowed her beady little eyes at him. “Oh, I won’t? Why’s that? Keep in mind that I’m not like the rest of these women who you keep under a spell.”

  “Suing me for sexual harassment would really hurt this school and you’re obsessed with this place. More importantly, you’re in love with my father. You’ve been in love with him since the day he hired you.”

  She clenched her jaw. “Get out right now!”

  Presley was more than satisfied with himself so he obliged. What he said to her hadn’t been the nicest thing, but it was something he’d been meaning to get off his chest for a while.

  Chapter Eight

  The day after, once the school was clear of students, Presley stood in the front hallway talking to Ava and Harrison. Ava was busy telling them about a huge breakthrough she’d had with her students during a project. Presley and Harrison grinned at each other as she went on and on talking about mood and feelings. Ava was really deep into the visual arts and Presley didn’t even pretend to understand it.

  He glanced at his Rolex. “We have a faculty meeting in five.” Groups of teachers were already drifting toward the school’s library for the meeting. Presley hated faculty meetings more than anything other than Ms. Jones, who hadn’t said a word to him since their conversation the day before.

  For one, he was in charge of the meetings. Every now and then the dean would swing in to address the staff, but mostly it was Presley. He didn’t like everyone staring at him as he talked. He wanted to know what they were thinking, and wondering about that distracted him from what he was saying. He knew what some of the women were thinking, but what about the others who weren’t taken in by his good looks and charm? What did they think when they looked at him? What about the few men that were on the staff? What were they thinking?

  He felt as if he were boring the teachers with inane things his father felt necessary to discuss. He knew their time would be much better spent preparing for lessons. Sometimes Ms. Jones would speak and he would feel even more sympathy for his faculty because all she did was complain about what they were doing wrong.