A Breezy Day
DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. The dialogue at the beginning of this story is taken directly from the movie.
"So I thought that this Sunday I would treat myself to one last day of sun and water," Jean Brodie told Gordon Lowther as they walked down the hallways of Marcia Blaine, headed towards the staff room. "I wonder, Mr. Lowther," she continued, "If you might be able to help me?" she asked him, fluttering her eyelashes.
He smiled at her. "In what way, Miss Brodie?"
"Why, you might know if there's a possibility of my renting a little boat at Cramond."
His heart leapt in his breast. "Oh, well, Miss Brodie," he said excitedly, "I have a boat."
"Oh, do you, Mr. Lowther?" she said, looking up at him coquettishly from beneath her dark eyelashes. He nodded.
"It would give me the greatest pleasure, uh…" he began, stammering, "I mean, i-if you would consider coming with me." He held his breath as he awaited her answer.
She smiled up at him. "Oh, but I couldn't trouble you, Mr. Lowther," she told him regretfully.
"Trouble?" he exclaimed, astonished. "Oh, Miss Brodie, I would have asked you before, many times, but I… I didn't want to seem to push myself," he told her. "Please, Miss Brodie, say you'll come with me," he begged.
She gave him a radiant smile. "Very well, Mr. Lowther. On Sunday?"
"On Sunday," he replied.
"Oh – after church, of course," he added as they reached the staff room.
"Oh, of course, Mr. Lowther," she whispered.
He opened the door to the staff room for her.
"Grazie mille," she told him.
Sunday could not come soon enough for Gordon Lowther. Jean invited him to escort her to his church on Sunday, in order for them to have the least possible delay after Kirk. He was pleased to escort her and pleased at the opportunity to impress her with his choir-directing skills. While she did know him as a teacher, it was another thing entirely to command an adult choir – a fact that both of them were well aware.
It was an eminently difficult task for once to keep his attention on his choir with Jean sitting so close to him, and looking so very becoming in her silk frock with the red poppies. Her dress clung to her every curve and revealed more of her legs than he had ever seen, though it was still a very modest frock.
After Kirk, she waited for him outside of the Vestry while he hung up his choir robes. He was pleased when she took his arm and placed a light kiss on his cheek.
"Oh, Gordon, that was lovely!" she exclaimed as they walked to his car. "I knew, of course, that you were talented, but your conducting of the choir was even more skilful than I imagined!"
He blushed with pleasure at her praise, and opened the car door for her. She seated herself gracefully and he closed her door before walking to the right side of the car. Starting up the engine, they drove in comfortable silence to his estate.
"Here we are," Gordon said as they pulled up to his estate, exiting the car before opening her door and helping her out. Her eyes were wide as they took in the large stone manor, the rolling fields, and the water.
"Oh, Gordon!" she exclaimed, "It's so lovely!" He blushed at her praise and thanked her. He led her into the house, and she expressed her admiration once more about his home before he awkwardly interrupted her.
"Jean, do you mind if I change into something a bit more – conducive – to sailing?" he asked. She smiled.
"Of course not," she told him before holding up the small bag she carried. "Could you please show me where I might change as well?"
He nodded and led her into his mother's bedroom. "Here you are," he told her. "Please feel free to hang up your dress so it does not get wrinkled." She smiled at him before he left for his own room to change.
Fifteen minutes later, Gordon was sitting in the parlour, now dressed in blue corduroy slacks and a white button-up shirt when the door to the parlour opened, revealing the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
Jean was wearing a lovely, gauzy dress of light green, and she carried a shawl in the pattern of her family's tartan. His breath was taken away at the sight of her and he stared, coming out of his trance when she walked over to him and laid a worried hand on his shoulder.
"Are you all right, Gordon?" she asked him concernedly. He swallowed.
"Oh, yes," he told her, still gazing upon her figure. "I have never been better." As she held out her hand to him, he was incredibly grateful that he had decided against a kilt for this afternoon's outing – he wore kilts in the "traditional" fashion, and one part of his anatomy would have a very hard time remaining under wraps if he had not been wearing trousers – and underwear – to restrain it.
"Oh, Gordon, really!" Jean laughed as he told her a story about a member of his choir. He smiled, more at the sound of her laugh than because the story was amusing.
"I have a surprise for you, Jean," he told her, and she smiled at him. "Oh, Gordon, I hope you haven't gone to any trouble on my behalf…" she trailed off as he held up a hand to stem her protests.
"No trouble, just something I felt we would both enjoy," he said, lifting a picnic basket from underneath the bench he sat on.
"Oh, that's wonderful, Gordon!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands in her glee. "I adore picnics!"
"I am glad, Jean," he told her sincerely. He opened the basket and pulled out a bottle of wine, two glasses, some bread, cheese, apples, and cake. She smiled up at him.
"This looks lovely, Gordon, thank you," she told him as he poured them both a glass of wine. "This is the most enjoyable outing I've had in quite a while. Thank you," she said, moving closer to him.
To Gordon, the simple repast seemed a feast because of Jean. They laughed and told jokes as the bottle of wine emptied into their glasses. When the wine and the food were gone, they began to head back to shore.
They reached the dock and Gordon tied the boat up. Jean unsteadily got to her feet and wobbled dangerously. Gordon stood up as well to hold her steady, but was just as affected by the alcohol they consumed earlier that afternoon. With one final wobble, Jean fell with a splash into the sea, and as Gordon tried to help her out of the water, he fell in too.
She giggled as he fell in the water, landing almost on top of her. When he emerged, he realised their proximity, and his breath caught in his throat at how close they were. The water was too deep for Jean to stand it, so she moved even closer to him and looped her arms around his neck. He looked down into her face.
"Jean," he breathed lightly. She nodded and stretched up to plant a light kiss on his lips. That was all he needed to spur him on, and he wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned down, capturing her soft, rosy lips with a passionate kiss. Her moan startled him out of his reverie, and he stepped away from her.
"J-Jean, I'm so sorry," he whispered, looking down into the water.
"I am sorry, too, Gordon," she told him, turning away from him with tears in her eyes. "I should have known better than to force myself on you. I know I'm not very attractive, and I'm sorry that I took advantage of your good nature to…" His lips on hers cut her off mid-sentence.
"Jean, you are the most gorgeous and attractive woman I have ever met," he told her sincerely. "It was I who felt I was taking advantage of you."
She smiled up at him, raising a soft hand to his cheek. "Thank you, Gordon," she told him, before shivering as a strong, chill breeze blew over the sea. He scooped her up in his strong arms and carried her to shore as she leaned her head against his broad chest.
They reached his house, and he brought her up to his bathroom, setting her down to turn on the water to fill the bathtub.
"Now, Jean, I don't want you getting ill, so why don't you take a nice hot bath and then join me for some tea downstairs?" he asked her, trying not to stare at the way her wet dress clung to her curves.
She frowned and stepped closer to him. "You are not going to join me?" she asked him, running her hands over his chest. "I don't want you to catch a cold either…"
He shook his head, averting his eyes from her figure. "I… can't, Jean," he told her, still not looking at her. He did not see her unbutton her dress, but looked at her reflexively when he heard the sound of the wet fabric hitting the tiled bathroom floor. She stood there staring at him lustfully, clad in only a lacy white bra and knickers. He moaned, and even his trousers and underwear – not to mention the cold water that had soaked him to the skin – could not prevent him from getting the fullest erection he had in years.
"Are you sure, Gordon?" she asked him, now beginning to unbutton his shirt. "In fact, it looks like you cannot help but join me…" her words trailed off into a moan as he pulled her towards him and pressed his erection against her. She reached between them and finished unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off behind him, and brought her hands around to the front of his trousers. Her nimble fingers made quick work of his belt and the buttons holding his pants up, and he stepped out of them. He removed her bra and pulled her knickers down. She kicked them off and then reached behind her to turn off the water in the bathtub. She gently lowered herself into the tub, closing her eyes and sighing in satisfaction as the hot water caressed her skin. She opened an eye and looked at him.
"Aren't you going to join me?" she asked him as she stretched out in the large, claw-foot tub. He did not need to be asked a third time, and he lowered himself into the water slowly.
As soon as he seated himself, she leaned forward and kissed him. He responded hungrily, tangling his fingers in her golden hair, pulling her head back in order to kiss the soft skin of her neck.
"Gordon," she murmured as he fondled her breasts. "Oh, Gordon…" She brought her hand down between them and began to stroke his erection. He gasped in surprise and moaned against her breast.
"God, Jean!" he groaned before slipping one of his arms under her legs and one around her back, lifting her out of the water.
He carried her out of the bathroom and laid her on his bed, looking down at her. "Oh, Jean, I love you," he told her.
"Mmm, Gordon," she told him, reaching for him. "Gordon…"
He joined her on the bed, pulling her towards him. "Jean…" he moaned, pressing his cock against her opening. "God, Jean…"
She rolled him onto his back and straddled him, lowering herself onto him.
"God, Gordon," she moaned as she rode him, raising and lowering herself on top of him. "Oh, God, Gordon!"
She gripped his shoulders tightly as she came, still rising and falling on top of him. As her walls clenched around him, he could not resist this golden-haired temptress any longer. He rolled her onto her back and trapped one of her legs between his, driving in and out of her, pumping hard and fast until he came.
She had managed it. She had managed to secure Gordon Lowther as her lover. She could not believe how easy it was for him to be taken in. She would be able to make Teddy jealous this way – perhaps he would divorce his wife for her.
She knew that he wouldn't divorce his wife, deep down – he was Catholic, after all, and he did believe in his religion. But it could not hurt to try.
After all, if she could not have Teddy, that did not mean that she could have no one. Gordon would do – though he was no great shakes at making love. Not like Teddy. Though Teddy did have a lot of experience – six children was proof enough of that. But perhaps Gordon could improve with practice… She hoped so. She did.