An Awkward Affair
Gilderoy Lockhart laid back quietly into the silk pillows of the plush, comforting bed. He was at the finest, most discreet brothel in Hogsmede. At first his friends, Jonathan and Norman, had been looking for a night of getting drunk, but he had quickly canceled on them. No, it was too beautiful, too hot, too ripe a night to spend with mere friends. This was a night to spend with a lover; even one that had been bought was better than nothing. And so he waited, he waited in expectance of a woman so amazing that he would not be able to walk properly the next day.
It was late July, almost time for the school year to start. He had been offered a position by Albus Dumbledore, and accepted. Dumbledore had given him a sum in advance…and he had chosen to spend it here, and on the flat he was renting.
Absentmindedly, he picked at the waistband of his silky black undergarments. He had bought them on a whim, somewhat jokingly, but he had decided to wear them tonight.
"All the money I'm throwing around…" he scolded himself. But it was no matter now. He had paid for the flat, the ridiculous underwear, and tonight, which had cost him a great deal because the quality of the woman obviously mattered. He had been promised the best of the bunch, the one guaranteed to satisfy his every sexual whim.
As he stared out the window at the round, pregnant moon, he mused silently. Would her nipples be brown, dark red, or a girlish pink? And how big would her breasts be? Probably big. Would she be hairy, neatly trimmed, or completely bare? How luscious would her arse be? How loud would she scream?
"Wait," he scolded himself again at the sight of the uprising in the front of his pants. It was too early. He would wait until she arrived…
And besides, he had champaign and dinner set out on the table across from the bed. There was no need to rush.
A knock came at the door. Feeling butterflies in his stomach, he retrieved his robe and put it on. He opened the door, smiling.
A beautiful redhead. She was intense looking with pale skin and black eyeliner encircling her eyes. She was wearing a gorgeous red dress complete with black silk gloves and a pearl necklace. Yes, she certainly was the best of the bunch…and by the look of it, the largest of the bunch as well. Gilderoy's smile broadened.
"Gilderoy?" The girl asked. Her voice was low and tempting.
"Yes. Do come in." He ushered her inside. "I've got a meal ready for us."
"Oh, how lovely." She smiled, the smile parting her plump red lips and revealing the straight, white teeth behind them.
He seated her and then himself, using his wand to light candles. She smiled encouragingly.
"So, tell me, what is your name?" he asked, removing the silver lids from their platters. Spanakopita with stuffed grape leaves and hummus dip, the Mediterranean special. Gilderoy wasted no time in digging in.
"Abigail Walters." She said, picking up her utensils and preparing to eat.
"And are you living in Hogsmede, Abigail?" He inquired with half a mouth full.
"Oh yes," she replied, nodding. "For the time being. My parents are dead, you see…"
"I'm sorry." Gilderoy frowned and patted her wrist. "That must be hard."
Abigail nodded. "Yes, well. I just recently escaped the orphanage I was living in. I'll be seventeen in a month, so they really couldn't do that much to stop me."
"Are you working a second job?" Gilderoy asked, taking another bite of Spanakopita.
"Not at the moment. I'll be entering school in the fall." She answered, taking a sip of champaign.
Gilderoy gave her a funny look, but didn't probe any further. Surely she wasn't talking about Hogwarts. Willie didn't allow underage women into the brothel. Though she could have lied. She –
Stop it, he told himself. She's not underage, and she's not going to Hogwarts. You are having dinner with a beautiful woman who you are going to have sex with afterwards. Don't muck it up.
They finished their dinner in silence, and soon were both sipping their champagne, looking thoughtfully out the window.
Suddenly, Gilderoy heard the thud of plastic on the table. He looked down. Abigail had thrown something this way. It was a tiny plastic device with a button on it. Below the button were the words, "Pressure Sensitive".
He looked at her. She had an impish grin on her face.
"What is this?"
"That," she said, spreading her legs apart. His eyes flickered down. "Is the remote to my vibrating panties."
One eyebrow rose. Gilderoy smirked at her. "Oh really?"
"Yes, really."
Their eyes locked. She unbuttoned her dress and sat down on the edge of the bed. With the remote in one hand and the champaign in the other, he went over to Abigail. Her dress was totally unbuttoned down the front now. He looked at her black lacy bra, and her vibrating panties. Straddling her, he pushed her down on the bed. Abigail grinned up at him mischievously. Slowly, he tipped the champaign glass. Drops of the bubbly liquid dripped into her navel. He placed the glass on the nightstand and bent down, sucking the rich juice from her navel while gently pressing down on the button. He could feel the mechanical vibration beneath him. Abigail began to moan gently.
After a minute or two of this, Gilderoy tugged on her panties and tossed the remote on the floor. The one thing he was really proud of was his ability to pleasure a woman. Immediately, he went to work. Abigail arched her back in pleasure.
"Why are you focusing so much on me?" she breathed. "Aren't I supposed to be pleasuring you?"
She sat up and pulled off his boxers, exposing what woman all over the Wizarding world would kill to see. They turned sideways on the bed, and she began licking and then sucking the tip of his penis.
When he was about to come, he pulled away.
"What? Are you finished administering my oral exam?" Abigail said teasingly, her eyebrows raised. Gilderoy frowned. Before anything else was said, she had removed her bra and she was on top of him. And even though he was suspicious, Gilderoy had to admit that it felt damn good to be inside of her.
She bent low to his face, her large breasts resting on his heaving chest. Abigail spoke in a voice so low that he had to strain to hear it. "So tell me…did I pass the class?"
"Class? I – " Gilderoy's eyes widened and he propped himself up on his elbows. She i was /i a student. And she had been fooling him the whole time…
"I suggest you shut up, Professor." Abigail said erotically, placing her hands on his hairy chest and pushing him back into the mattress. "I suggest you just…shut…up…"
And at the end of the night, Abigail walked out with her money, and, as promised, Gilderoy could hardly walk at all.
- - -
Gilderoy inhaled and exhaled deeply. It was his last class of the day, the Slytherin 7th years. They were angels compared to his other classes, who wouldn't shut up unless threatened with a month of detention. These Slytherins were more mature and far more subdued. The room was almost completely quiet except for the rustling sounds of papers and the occasional whisper or mutter.
He looked down at his role sheet and cleared his throat. All students were facing forward.
"Anderson, John."
"Here."
"Barney, Elizabeth."
"Here."
"Briar, Celeste."
"Here."
And the list went on. There were about thirty names, and he read them without even really thinking about them. Gilderoy's mind was on other things, such as going back to his chambers, answering a few fan letters, and masturbating.
Suddenly, he stopped. His throat seemed to have closed. His fingers twitched and crinkled the role sheet. He had been hoping this wouldn't happen…but there the name was, staring him in the face, bold and accusatory…
"Ab-Abigail Walters?" Gilderoy's voice cracked.
"Here," she said, in the same slow, deep, sexy voice she had greeted him with on the night they met three weeks ago. She was sitting in the back row, leaning over the desk, her white uniform shirt unbuttoned so that quite a bit of cleavage was visible. He gaped at her; he was paralyzed with panic, unable to move –
"Professor? Is something wrong?" she asked, looking innocently puzzled. He shook his head.
"Erm – no. All right. Then let's – uh –" He stuttered. Abigail had that look in her eyes. That naughty, erotic, knowing look.
I suggest you shut up, Professor.
I suggest you just shut up.