by Mlyn Hurn
* * * * *
Mac smiled when he saw Ophelia sitting with her feet propped on her desk. He was glad to see the lady with the perfect posture and body alignment could slouch once in a while. He walked the rest of the way into the office, watching as she sat up in her chair.
“Good afternoon, McDonald. How may I help you?”
Mac grinned and sat in the chair in front of her desk. “Well, Landis—“ He paused unable to keep his gaze from traveling down the front of her luscious body and back up.
“Please, call me Ophelia. Miss or Ms. anything reminds me of my maiden aunts.” Ophelia shuddered delicately.
Mac smiled and nodded his head. “With pleasure, Ophelia. Was one of your aunts named Ophelia as well?”
Ophelia nodded and smiled. “Yes, one was. They were my great-aunts, on my father’s side. Neither of them married and they lived together until Ophelia died. After that, Aunt Matilda was never quite the same. She lived with us, but the zest had gone out of her. I’m sorry!”
Ophelia flushed and Mac grinned. “Don’t apologize, Ophelia. Thank you for sharing that knowledge regarding your family with me.”
Ophelia shook her head. “I didn’t mean to bore you. Did you have a question about class?” she added quickly, trying to return to her professional demeanor.
“Sort of, I guess. I overheard some of the kids talking about the instructors offering private tutoring. I was hoping I could receive some tutoring, if you could spare the time.” He watched, as several different expressions seemed to chase one another across the lovely teacher’s face. He went on quickly. “I understand there is a fee, and I’m willing to pay it. Also, if your day is too full, we could meet in the evenings.”
“Well, if you’d prefer meeting during the day, I could suggest another instructor, or even one of the senior students.” She lifted her hand as if unaware of it, lightly fanning her face.
Mac shook his head. “Evenings work out great for me, and I would prefer to have you.”
* * * * *
Ophelia knew she blushed then. His words, while innocent, made her have all kinds of naughty thoughts. She couldn’t think of any good reason to refuse, and since she wasn’t dancing anymore, she needed the money. She heard herself agreeing, silently admitting that her acceptance had very little to do with needing the money and everything to do with wanting to spend time with him.
“Great!” Mac replied. “Is this evening too soon to get started?”
“Uhm, no that is fine. I do need to get something to eat since I had to skip lunch today.”
Mac stood. “Great! I’ll treat for dinner, and then we can get started.”
* * * * *
Two hours later, after discussing where to practice, they decided to use Ophelia’s apartment, since she had a barre and portable dance floor set up there. Ophelia directed Mac to her extra bathroom to change, and she slipped on a black leotard. She came out a few minutes later and found Mac was already changed and leaning against the barre waiting for her.
She stopped abruptly, seeing he was wearing a pair of gym shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. Of all times for him to show a little flesh! Why did it have to be in her apartment? Ophelia took a deep breath, paused to take in the view for a moment, and then became the ultimate professional.
The next two hours passed quickly for Ophelia. Mac was a receptive student, and obviously was serious about learning. She called a halt at two hours, admitting she was exhausted. She walked to the sofa and flopped down like a wet noodle. She closed her eyes for a minute, but opened them as she felt the sofa shift. Mac had sat down, but left at least two feet between them. Ophelia quickly buried her disappointment. She had half expected Mac to put some kind of move on her. Of course, maybe she wasn’t his type?
“How about something to drink?” she offered him, hopping up from the couch. Mac moved to rise, but she shook her head. “You stay there. I’ll get it. How about some wine? I have a nice bottle of Zinfandel.”
* * * * *
Mac nodded and watched Ophelia leave the living room. It was impossible to ignore the lovely curve of her butt as she walked away from him. He found himself once again wondering just what she looked like beneath that thin leotard. He had wondered too many times to count over the last week whether her nipples were the same soft color as her lips when they were free of any lipstick. Mac had to shift on the sofa to ease his shorts from revealing his growing arousal. He thought that he had done very well to keep his passions under wraps and his hands away from her luscious body during the last two hours. He slouched down on the sofa.
Ophelia came through the door carrying two glasses of white wine. Mac noticed that she had removed her shoes, and when she sat down, she curled her legs beneath her, turning slightly in his direction.
* * * * *
She had argued with herself in the kitchen that she should have been offering him water or juice after two hours of strenuous exercise. They were both a little dehydrated and the wine could go straight to their heads. But she had still poured the wine.
Mac sipped the wine slowly. “Nice. You live here alone?”
Ophelia blushed, sure she was reading too much into his question. “Yes. I only moved in two weeks ago.”
Mac looked surprised. “Really? I had understood you had taught this class before, so I assumed you had been living here.”
Ophelia stared into her wine. “I taught the class both semesters last year. But I moved back to New York for awhile.” Her voice trailed away. “And then, I needed a job, and Michael hired me to come back.”
“You don’t like it here?”
Ophelia shook her head. “No, I like it fine. This is the perfect small college town, and the fine arts school is really good. I’m lucky to have gotten a position this good, actually.”
* * * * *
Mac watched as she swirled the wine in her glass pensively. He wondered why she had to convince herself how lucky she was. “No boyfriends to clutter your life and care that you left the big city?” He had felt extraordinarily pleased to learn that she lived alone.
Ophelia laughed. “One, completely in the past, and I never had time for the dating or singles scene. Enough about me, what do you do when you aren’t in my dance class?”
Mac paused and decided to be honest with her. “At the moment, nothing. I am between projects, so to speak. Your class is part of my next project though.”
Ophelia finished her wine and set her glass down. “I’m confused. I never would have figured you for a—” She stopped. “I’m not sure what I had thought you did for a living.”
“I’m taking the class under my real name. My stage name is taken from my mother’s maiden name, Donal Donaldson.”
Ophelia stared at the man on her sofa. She blinked her eyes, and shook her head. “No way! I saw him accepting the Academy Award last year for best actor. That man had been bald, with a gray mustache and beard, and about 20 pounds heavier.” Mac’s eyes were so blue that Ophelia was sure she would have remembered those!
Mac saw the surprise and doubt on her face. “Over the last few years I have deliberately avoided the action movies, concentrating only on films where I’ve completely altered my appearance. The studio insisted I attend that awards show, despite it falling in the middle of a location shoot. Luckily my hair grew back, the dye job faded and a lot of exercise got rid of the spare tire. It does allow me more anonymity in my off hours.”
Ophelia looked doubtful. “If you are Donaldson, why are you here, of all places?”
Mac grinned. “I grew up not far from here. My folks still live on the farm where my dad’s father and grandfather lived before him. Mike Jansen is an old friend of mine, and I called him when I needed to learn how to dance, in a hurry and without it leaking to the press.”
Mac paused as he realized that he had just disclosed more to Ophelia than he had ever revealed in any interview. Somehow he knew he could trust that Ophelia wouldn’t be calling the first gossip magazine she could find to
sell information regarding his private life.
“Is this for a movie? What kind of movie is it?”
Mac smiled. “A dance movie?” he offered. Ophelia surprised him by punching his arm.
“You tell a dancer you are making a movie that you have to know how to dance for and you won’t tell her what it is about! That’s not fair!”
Mac shrugged. “I know, and I apologize. I’m hoping for one or two more films about dance, until then I have to get through this one and not bankrupt the studio. It’s a fictional story, and the main character is an Irishman who was raised to dance as a family tradition. And the time comes when he has to choose between staying and working the mines, as all the men in his family had done before, or taking advantage of the opportunity offered to him.”
“And you play the young man?”
Mac laughed at the tone of her voice. “Are you implying that my days of passing for ‘young’ are behind me?”
Ophelia blushed. “No, of course not. I am sorry…I’m not usually so rude,” she stammered.
Mac laid his hand on her thigh, just above her knee. “Hey! I was just kidding. The story spans a number of years, and I will play the father, and then in later life the man. I think they knew I wouldn’t be totally believable as a dancer.” Mac laughed at himself.
* * * * *
Ophelia felt the heat of his hand shoot up her thigh, and her breath caught in her chest. She nodded and hoped the flush rising up her chest above the low-cut leotard wasn’t too noticeable. “No, really, you are making splendid progress. I’m sure by the time shooting starts you will be great!”
Mac looked less sure. “Time will tell. With a good teacher, the sky’s the limit, I guess.”
Ophelia felt Mac shift his hand on her thigh. Her eyes darted from his hand upward to his eyes, only to discover that he was staring at her. She saw instantly that he had noticed her flushed cheeks, parted lips and panting breath, proof that she was definitely affected by his touch. His movement on the sofa was barely noticeable as he shifted closer and then moved his hand up over the thin material of the leotard.
“I imagine you have students falling all over themselves,” Mac told her quietly.
Ophelia shook her head, feeling the heat of his hand through her leotard. “I set pretty strict guidelines and no one’s ever crossed them.”
Mac leaned forward until his mouth was just a few inches from her own. “No one?”
Ophelia smiled. “No students, anyway.”
Mac moved an inch closer. “My trouble in school was that I was always the rule breaker. Perhaps you should go over those guidelines with me.”
Chapter 3
Mac quickly closed the distance and kissed Ophelia’s lips. Softly, gently, barely moving at first, the kiss was a test, and an exploration. When he lifted his head, he smiled at the dazed look on Ophelia’s face.
“I imagine kissing is on that list.”
Ophelia nodded her head, swallowing hard. Her pink tongue darted out to lick her upper lip, but then more slowly swept across the lower one. Mac groaned loudly.
“I think you need to put a disclaimer on your list.”
Ophelia shook her head as if trying to clear it. “What?”
“If you go around licking your lips so seductively, then it is only natural that some of your rules will be broken.”
Ophelia smiled, and asked him pertly, “You mean like the touching rule?”
Mac grinned and moved his hand to her back. “That’s a good one to start with.” He shifted a little, lowering his mouth towards hers once again. “But I think I’ll go back to breaking the kissing rule for now.”
His mouth covered hers. One of them moved, and a second later they were pressed together on the sofa. Ophelia’s mouth opened to Mac’s questing tongue. As their tongues tasted and savored one another, Mac’s leg moved between Ophelia’s, pulling her even closer.
“Oh my…” Ophelia whispered softly, feeling her senses becoming quickly overrun. “I…I…uhm—“
Ophelia threaded her fingers through Mac’s hair, pulling his head closer. And when his hand slid from her back to her waist, she shifted her upper body to the side. “Yes!”
* * * * *
Mac needed no further encouragement, and his hand closed the distance. His fingers curved over the rounded globe and compressed it. Against his palm, he wanted to feel the nipple pearling and hardening. He was surprised that he did not. Mac moved his mouth to the side of her neck, kissing and licking. His hands grasped the thin leotard at her shoulders and pulled it downwards, which allowed his mouth to eagerly follow the descent of fabric, desperate to sample her hidden treasures.
Mac dragged the leotard to her elbows, and found she was wearing some kind of tight, binding device around her chest. Immediately he realized that this was why he could not feel her nipple a moment earlier. Obviously she concealed something. He pressed her to lie back against the cushions and moved to kneel on the couch beside her. His hands curled into the stretchy binder around her upper chest and started to pull it down.
Ophelia’s hands immediately lifted to curl around his, making him pause. His gaze lifted immediately to meet her eyes. Ophelia’s voice was soft, quiet as she spoke. “I should warn you—“
Mac grinned and stopped for a moment. “I was looking forward to checking out that touching rule of yours.”
Ophelia smiled and then nodded her head. Mac once again moved his hands to lift and pull the binding down. Her firm, full breasts sprang into view. The nipples were already hard and pointing towards him. Mac stared at the bountiful beauty he had uncovered. It was close to impossible for him to move his eyes from the exquisite, large breasts that he had revealed. Never would he have guessed she possessed two such luscious melons beneath her leotard. The stretchy binding she’d worn had pressed her bosoms relatively flat to her chest. Her nipples were poking up about half an inch and seemed to be begging him to suck them.
“Ophelia?” Mac spoke her name.
Ophelia blushed as Mac made no move to touch her after pulling down the tight binder she wore to allow easier dancing and less bouncing. She wondered if he found her big breasts unattractive and ugly. She started to cover her breasts when Mac’s hands caught her.
“I know they are too big. That’s why I wear that thing to flatten them out. I understand if you want to stop—“ she stammered nervously.
Mac pulled her hands away. “Stop! You are beautiful, Ophelia. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen such beautiful breasts.” He paused and gently cupped the farthest globe. “Perfect size,” he told her quietly as her breast filled his hand to overflowing.
“Perfect nipples,” he added while his hand lifted and his fingers began to lightly circle that nipple. “Beautiful color.”
“Color?” Ophelia questioned Mac’s last comment.
Smiling, he continued to circle, and occasionally just rub the tip of his finger across the distended tip. “Yes, Ophelia. Your nipples are the same color as your lips after they’ve been kissed.”
Ophelia felt the blush, which seemed to be present all the time since she’d first met Mac, begin to glow brighter and hotter. She’d never been talked to like this…so openly, candidly about her body—not during sex anyway.
Ophelia closed her eyes as Mac’s hand once again began massaging her full breast. Her large breasts had always embarrassed her because usually dancers were small or nearly flat-chested. She had taken to wearing the binder to hide behind, and it fooled most people. But with Mac’s hand worshipping her flesh, she didn’t feel ashamed. She felt her body blossoming and warming with each gentle touch. And when he lowered his head and his mouth enveloped the nipple closest to him, her hand rose to cradle his head to her breast.
* * * * *
Mac groaned as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. He sucked and pulled, lengthening the nipple with each pull. When he released the tender bud with a soft, wet plopping noise, he smiled when he saw it was almost three-quarters of an i
nch long. He looked up at Ophelia’s face and saw her eyes were closed, lips parted, and breathing fast. He slid one hand down her body to where her legs were making scissor-like movements against one another restlessly. They fell apart as his hand slid over her mound. When his fingers probed the material and pressed upwards, he lowered his mouth to her distended nipple.
As his fingers cleverly moved between her thighs and pressed her leotard against the folds of skin that hid her pleasure point, his mouth suckled her breast like he was getting his nourishment from her. Between the sucking motions, which he matched to the rhythm his fingers established between her thighs, he worked her long-starved body to a climactic frenzy in a very short time.
As her moans turned to cries, he released her nipple to watch her face. His fingers were remorseless and unstoppable in spite of the thin leotard. He was master of her flesh and a moment later her climax rumbled through her like an earthquake. Mac watched as her hips bucked, her breasts bounced and her heels dug into the sofa.
* * * * *
The earthquake lasted much longer than a few seconds. As she settled back into the soft cushions of her couch, soft tremulous aftershocks teased the inner muscles of her body. She felt the clenching and pulling of her cunt muscles and realized in agony that they were seeking to pull a hard cock deep inside and milk it dry of its seed. For the first time in her life, she felt the hungering need to be filled by a man’s cock. Her previous sexual encounter seemed like child’s play compared to what she’d just felt.