Maybe she wouldn't even have considered it long enough to laugh.
Never could she have foreseen this situation. It wasn't just improbable, but also impossible. It had to be. Some things didn't happen in this universe, because they couldn't be and they wouldn't be. Trying to disturb this peace was like trying to change the laws of physics. No way.
What had been said: "This weekend sounds good."
If someone had told her just half a year ago that she would not only meet the famous photographer Mark Jefferson, but also make out with him, of all things, she would've laughed at the mere idea. Ridiculous. Ludicrous. Maybe she wouldn't even have considered it long enough to laugh.
Yet that was exactly the type of
What had been said: "I'm looking forward to it… Max."
laughable situation she was in now: she was completely and utterly seized by Mark Jefferson's powerful presence and irresistible charm and, strangely enough, her feelings were not one-sided. What the intelligent man saw in her was nothing short of a mystery, but as much as she loved horror and comedy, she had a passion for
What had been said: "Crap, it's pouring down here."
mysteries and the fact that she now was involved herself proved to be exactly the motivation she needed. She wanted to figure out the teacher who outwardly appeared composed and steady, yet was hiding a burning fire behind the cool gaze of his eyes, a fire which engulfed her sense of being and made her experience things she'd never considered possible.
What had been said: "Let me give you a ride."
As much as she'd tried to remain calm, almost trying to imitate the man who intercepted her thoughts and disconcerted her emotions so effortlessly, a… sound still made its way past her lips, a half-moan half-gasp, and the reaction to her reaction was immediate: a tightening of fingers, a firm pressure pushing
What had been said: "Doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon."
against her in an urging motion, a new level of intensity to the intensity she was feeling. Jefferson's mouth was doing wonderful, artistic things to her neck and she was certain he'd not only heard the near-pleading noise she'd made, but also felt it. And as a reward (or punishment?) he unleashed upon her his teeth, his tongue, his fingers, hands, body on hers, glasses long ago discarded.
What had been said: "I won't allow you to get wet."
A cold sensation struck her and she swallowed (audibly) as the palm of Jefferson's hand crept further under her shirt and over her stomach, where it traced slow, agonizing shapes, leaving her skin boiling. Her head felt light, airy, and she briefly wondered if
What had been said: "I'm sure we can find ways to keep ourselves busy."
this was what being high felt like: floating on an invisible cloud, feeling warm and fuzzy and not really being there, yet at the same time perceiving everything in a much more vivid and real manner. It was as if her senses were hyperaware of every touch, every caress. The teacher's torturous movements ignited sparks in-between her legs, reaping excitement –
What will be said: "You too."