The Academy Volume One

by Maxine Mansfield

  Leeky gulped and fought the urge to check and see if his own parts were where he’d last left them. “There’s just something wrong about using a lad that way. I’ve heard of multi-purpose dolls, but this is going a step or two over the line, if ya ask me.”

  She rolled her eyes, sighed, and spoke as if he were a small child who needed slow, careful explanations. “This is a Tug McGroin. He’s the latest, top-of-the-line model available. Guaranteed ta be the last all-purpose companion a girl will ever need, or money back. And trust me when I tell ya he cost a pretty platt.”

  She stopped talking for a moment and stroked the dark, berber-like, artificial hair on the doll’s plastic chest. “He comes with a multitude of handy attachments and can do everything from making a girl’s toes curl ta mixing a pitcher of margaritas. Watch this.”

  Laycee took hold of Tug’s chin and yanked. His plastic mouth flopped open and out rolled a moist-looking, pink tongue, at least eight inches long. She tweaked the doll’s nose and the tongue vibrated in a slow, circular motion, mimicking the licking of its lips.

  Laycee grinned at Leeky and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Didn’t I tell ya he’s capable of making a girl’s toes curl?”

  For the first time in his very long life, Leeky Shortz was speechless.

  Laycee, however, didn’t seem to have that problem. “Well, ya gonna just stand around and stare all day, or ya gonna get that job done?”

  “Job, umm, what job?” Leeky spluttered. “Are ya in need of a good doing then? Ya want ta have sex?”

  She placed her stubby hands on her hips and glared. “I was talking about the job I put the request in for. And, just for the record, I’m a lady and I don’t go around having sex with strangers, especially strange gnomes.” She crossed her arms and raised her nose an inch into the air.

  Leeky grinned. “Ya don’t do strangers? Well then, show me this job while we get ta know each other better, lass.”

  She pointed to a box in the corner. “Put that together and hang it over my bed.”

  Setting his own blow-up doll gently on a chair close to the door, the gnome-handyman walked toward the box.

  “Hope ya don’t mind that I brought my Miss Bunny 2000 along with me. She gets mighty lonely when I leave her at home.”

  Laycee rolled her eyes, but Leeky didn’t stare for long. He turned his attention to the box. “A Swing of Love, huh? My, but aren’t ya just full of surprises.”

  Leeky’s grin grew of its own volition until he was sure if it got any bigger, his face would split in two. He ripped open the cardboard box, put on his chartreuse hanging-things gloves, and proceeded to put together and hang the swing.

  “So, what’s up with the gloves?”

  Leeky smiled at her. “What the red arse-cheeks of a nakey ogre streetwalker plying her trade on a snowy day do ya think they’re for? Didn’t I already tell ya I’m a rogue, lass?”

  He held up his long-fingered hands. “These finely tuned instruments are my fortune and a national treasure. There has never been a lock made these fingers couldn’t pick, a knife they couldn’t wield, or a lady they couldn’t pleasure, so I must protect them. During the war, the government insured them for a million platt, and that was when I was still a mere novice. Priceless, that’s what they are now.”

  “The war?” she cackled. “That was well over eight hundred years ago. Ya look old, but not that old. Now I’m sure you’re full of more hot air than my Tug.”

  He grinned. “Think what ya will, lass. So, ya wanna have sex when I get this done? Try it out, make sure it’s sturdy?”

  Laycee sighed. “Is that all ya ever think about? Even a three-balled troll humping a dead goat thinks about more than just sex.”

  Leeky continued to swagger toward the box, but he glanced back over his shoulder at her and winked. “Well, I am what I am, lass. So is that a yes?”

  She sputtered, and her false teeth flew from her mouth. “Well, I need time ta consider it. Get back ta work, silly gnome.”

  Leeky licked his eyebrows, showing Laycee that her Tug McGroin doll wasn’t the only talented fellow in the room. He grinned what he hoped was his most lecherous smile. “Time, huh? I’ll give ya time, I’ll even give ya the bonus plan.”

  Her eyes popped wide with surprise, and he laughed. If she was impressed with the length of his tongue and his naughty suggestions just wait ‘til she got a gander at his package.

  “So…what? Ya need like five minutes ta think it over? I’ll be done with this contraption by then and we can…” He placed both of his fists upon his waist and rocked his hips back and forth suggestively. “Ya know, do a little humpity bumbity.”

  She crossed her arms, shook her head, sighed, and continued to stare at him while he worked.

  A few minutes later, Leeky hopped down, took off his chartreuse hanging-things gloves, and replaced them with his soft, fuzzy, pink, touching-a-lady gloves. “So, ya wanna have sex?”

  Laycee giggled.

  ****

  As Lark entered the royal suite, a low, growl-like sound came from somewhere deep within. She rushed forward, frightened something terrible might have befallen Ary or Laycee.

  The sound came again, this time not quite so loud, from directly behind Laycee’s door.

  Hesitating for a moment, Lark chided herself for being such a coward. Laycee might be injured, might need her. With a trembling hand, Lark turned the knob.

  A noxious, gaseous green cloud hit her square in the face. Her eyes watered, her skin crawled, her toes curled, and her stomach heaved. Lark slapped a hand over her mouth and gagged.

  A voice roared at her, “What the crawly vermin’s nest in the beard of a one-legged dwarf dancing a jig on the top of a troll’s belly do ya think ya’re doing, lass? Close the door. Ya’re letting out the hard-earned fruits of our labor, and I was winning.”

  Lark’s eyes stung as she looked toward the sound of the voice. Immediately, she wished she hadn’t. Some kind of bright-red leather swing contraption with shiny, metal coils was hanging lopsided from the ceiling directly over Laycee’s bed. Worse, the frightening device wasn’t empty.

  Swinging back and forth was a male gnome with an overly large nose and thick, bushy eyebrows who Lark had never seen before. And he was, for the most part, naked.

  The only things he wore were Laycee’s blonde wig, which sat askew on his nearly bald head, and a pair of bright-orange gloves. His short legs hung over the edge of the swing, and thankfully, he was cradling a large mug of ale between them, shielding Lark’s eyes from a sight she had no desire to see.

  In his stubby hands, he held what looked to be a large bowl of steaming chili, and on his face, he had an ear-to-ear grin.

  The sound of a loud phruurapppp tore Lark’s eyes away from the little man and toward the red-faced female gnome sitting beside him in the swing.

  Laycee in her birthday suit was a sight Lark would not soon forget. With her wig now gone, tufts of brown hair stuck out at odd angles from various spots on a head that had always been too big for her small gnome frame.

  Breasts that at one time had probably been impressive now resembled saggy, half-filled bags of marbles. Their nipples pointed toward the floor and swung at belly button level. Her wrinkles had wrinkles and, thankfully, like Laycee’s male companion, her most private area was concealed with a large mug of ale and a bowl of chili.

  What was strangest of all, though, was the little governess looked truly happy. Lark couldn’t remember another time she had seen Laycee smile so widely.

  “I do believe I just took the lead with that one, Leeky. Lark, be a sweet girl and close the door on ya way out, will ya?”

  Lark couldn’t move. Two blow-up dolls, squeezed onto the swing on either side of the gnomes, stared back at her, looking just as perplexed as she was.

  Dragging her gaze from the swing, Lark glanced around. It looked like a war zone. Pieces of plaster had fallen from the ceiling, various articles of clothing littered the floor, and covering eve
ry horizontal surface was an array of toys about whose functions Lark didn’t even want to speculate.

  “I think something’s wrong with the lass, Laycee. She doesn’t look well.”

  Lark glanced back toward the voice, trying to make sense of the scene before her.

  “Oh, she’ll be fine, Leeky. She’s just not used ta seeing folks have a good time.”

  Laycee leaned in close to the male gnome and whispered, although Lark heard her plainly, “Comes from a stick-up-the-butt kinda family, if ya know what I mean.”

  He laughed. “You’ve never been in a good old-fashioned farting contest, have ya, lass? Ya haven’t lived ‘til ya do.”

  Another loud, drawn-out phruurapppp lifted the male gnome a good three inches off his seat before dropping him back in place. He grinned at Laycee. “Dare ya ta top that one.”

  Smiling at Lark, he added, “Close the door, lass, grab a mug and a bowl of that fine pig’s feet chili Miss Laycee here made, and I’ll have Miss Bunny and Tug move over ta make room for ya. We’ll have a grand time, ya’ll see.”

  Lark turned and fled.

  ****

  “You awake?”

  Lark stirred, not sure if the voice in her mind was a dream or real. Then it came again, louder this time.

  “Lark?”

  Tears that embarrassed her for the weakness they revealed welled in her eyes. Why did it have to be this man who had the power to twist her heart into a pretzel with just the sound of her name on his lips?

  “I’m awake, Professor Sunwalker. What do you want now, a middle of the night rematch? Didn’t you get to inflict enough pain earlier? And why didn’t you tell me you were telepathic?”

  She could almost feel his sigh against her skin.

  “I don’t understand what’s happening to me. I’ve never been telepathic before, and it’s only your mind I seem to be able to connect with. It sure didn’t work with my brother when I tried to get inside his head earlier tonight.” He was silent for a moment, then added, “About today…umm…I just wanted to say, I’m sorry. I had no right to take my frustrations out on you. None of this is your fault. Truce?”

  Even in her mind, Lark couldn’t keep the catch out of her voice. “If you’ll stop trying to get rid of me, we can have a truce.”

  She felt his smile against her own lips.

  “G’night, Wonderful.”

  “Night,” she smiled into the darkness.

  Lying in her room, she stared through the windows at the thick patch of fog swirling outside. Why would Sarco suddenly develop the power to probe her mind, and just her mind, no one else’s? The niggling memory of a lesson surfaced and just as quickly was gone. There was something she should remember, but it just wasn’t there.

  Grandmother Ava would know. Why hadn’t she thought of her before? She would ask Grandmother next time she saw her. Grandmother Ava always had the answer.

  Oh, and she had forgotten to ask Sarco about Sherman, the halfling. For a split second, Lark almost sought a link with Sarco again, then changed her mind. She yawned, and her ribs reminded her that such an action was still a bad idea. Turning in bed, Lark winced as joints and muscles protested.

  Tomorrow she would worry about Sarco and why he had this newfound power, and tomorrow she would worry about Sherman Bobert Limburger the Ninth and the fate of his kingdom, but for tonight she was just plain too tired.

  Chapter Eight

  If ever a man had earned each and every one of the deep furrows currently lining the middle of his forehead, Sarco Sunwalker was certainly that man. Lark silently watched him from the doorway of his office.

  Yes, after what Sarco had put her through yesterday, a furrowed brow was the least of the things he deserved. Why, then, did it take every ounce of effort she could muster to keep from rushing to his side and smoothing those vertical lines with her fingertips…and her lips?

  There wasn’t time to think about how his skin would feel, or the heat pulsing throughout every inch of her body right now, though. In a matter of minutes, the doors of the wizard’s classroom would open, and there was still important business to discuss before then.

  Lightly, Lark rapped on Sarco’s open office door. “Sarco, may I speak with you a moment, please?”

  Long, strong-looking fingers closed the brown leather volume he’d been concentrating so intently on, and his handsome face lifted toward her. “Come in, Wonderful. What do you need?”

  Lark crossed the floor and took a seat opposite his desk. For a moment, guilt for having to bother him seeped into her soul. He looked tired this morning. It was obvious to anyone with eyes, Sarco Sunwalker hadn’t slept much the night before. His black hair was tousled, his eyes bloodshot, and even his high-elf pointed ears were drooping. His royal-blue robe was wrinkled, as if he’d tossed and turned in it, and weariness emanated from him.

  She had no choice, though. This couldn’t wait.

  “I need to speak with you concerning Sherman Bobert Limburger the Ninth, the halfling I used to block your final fireball yesterday. I’d like you to give him another chance.”

  Sarco didn’t look up as he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how it happened. He was hit. He’s out. If I change the rules for him, I’d have to change them for everyone.”

  Lark pursed her lips and arranged her arguments in her mind before she spoke.

  “I realize without rules there would be anarchy, but this is a special circumstance. His entire family and kingdom are counting on him, and if it wasn’t for my interference, he wouldn’t have been hit at all, and you and I both know it.”

  She hesitated a moment, locked gazes with Sarco, then continued, “I’m willing to let him take my place, if need be. You’re welcome to tell the other students anything you like. You can even tell them I cheated. I don’t care. That way, you don’t have to bend your rules, and you’ll get what you wanted yesterday—me, out of your class and out of your life.”

  Sarco didn’t break his gaze as he stood, walked around his desk, and took her by the arms.

  “Is this halfling really that important to you, Lark? Even if he hadn’t been hit, I didn’t sense the talent in him it takes to become a great wizard.”

  She squared her shoulders. “It’s important to me that I’m not the reason he fails. Sherman may or may not succeed, but you’ll never know unless you give him a fair chance. Will you?”

  Sarco’s hands caressed her, and a shiver she hadn’t anticipated scampered down her spine. His warm gaze held her in its embrace.

  “Even though it’s without a doubt wrong, I don’t want you out of my class or my life, Lark. I’d rather be tortured knowing you can never be mine, than be devoid of the sight of you.”

  Heat that had everything to do with Sarco’s words and the nearness of his body shot through her and landed like lightning in the pit of her belly.

  “If allowing Sherman back in class means that much to you,” Sarco continued, “I’ll find a way to make it happen. However, there is something I want…no, wish…beg of you, in exchange.”

  Lark held her breath, hoping.

  His head dipped, and he nibbled her ear. She clung to his arms, needing the anchor they formed to steady her. The heat she’d known earlier exploded once more deep within, and with abandon, she leaned into his embrace.

  “Anything,” her voice trembled. “I’d do anything you ask.”

  He shuddered against her.

  “Ahh, Wonderful, how you tempt a man beyond reason,” he said, kissing her neck and then backing away to look into her eyes.

  “This, then, is my request. Let the halfling take your place as my student, and you become my apprentice, my lover. Spend what time with me we have until I’m forced to wed.”

  The reminder that this man was meant for her sister and not for her brought tears to Lark’s eyes. She fought them back, a job made all the harder with his next words.

  “I can’t believe I’m asking this of you,” he sighed deeply. “It’s wrong. I know it’s wron
g, but, Lark, you’re like the air I breathe. I need you.”

  Lark couldn’t prevent a tear from slipping past her defenses and sliding down her cheek. “What of Aryanna?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t wish to hurt your sister, and I know my duty. I’ll do what I must when the time comes. But for now, share with me what little time we have left. I can see in your eyes you want me as much as I want you. What we can have these next few weeks will be enough. I know it will. It has to be.”

  The tears Lark refused to let fall clung precariously to her lashes. “Though I know it’s wrong, it seems there is nothing my heart can deny you.”

  With a flick of his wrist, Sarco closed the door to his office. The paperwork scattered on his desk skittered to the floor, and the lights dimmed. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss of ravishing need, and Lark melted into his embrace. Tongues darted in and out, mimicking the act of love, teasing, tempting, and tasting each other.

  One moment, Lark stood before Sarco, kissing and caressing him, and with the next heartbeat, she lay flat on her back on the top of his desk. The white novice-robe she’d been wearing was nowhere in sight.

  He parted her naked thighs and the lecherous grin he bestowed upon her had her trembling in anticipation. “I haven’t broken my fast this morning, Wonderful. May I feast?”

  He didn’t wait for her answer as he dipped his head between her thighs, and his fingers tenderly parted the lips of her pussy. Lark gasped and arched her back as hot breath touched and tantalized tingling membranes. Closer his kisses came to the tiny swollen nub, only to dart away at the last possible moment.

  A moan escaped her lips as she shifted and lifted toward him, trying unsuccessfully to draw his head to where she so desperately needed it to be. He chuckled against her bare skin, and the sensation sent goose bumps racing down her legs, curling her toes.

  “Please,” she pleaded.

  Sarco kissed the inside of Lark’s knee while a single finger stroked lightly across the nub of her swollen clit. He slid the finger downward and darted in and out of her pussy. His eyes blazed with passion.