What I Want, Chapter Four.
She had heard him before he'd come in. She had known he was there, she always knew when he was there. But he hadn't known she was. As much was evident by his wide eyes as he saw her, and the involuntary shudder that had run through his body as he tried to get it under control.
"Kitty." He said, gaining control of his nerves and his body. "What are you doing up so late?"
She looked away from him and shrugged. "I spilled something on my bed, I wanted to wash my sheets before I went to sleep." He knew that she was lying, her voice gave it away, but-though he was curious-it was her business. "Why are you up so late?" She countered, trying to lead the subject away from herself.
"Couldn't sleep." He said, looking around.
"Why?" She asked.
He was hardly going to tell her that he'd been having explicitly erotic dreams, involving dressing her up like a sundae for him to eat. "Dreams." He said, trying to keep the lust out of his voice.
It seemed as if the conversation was over, but he couldn't make his feet move. So he just stood there, looking at her, skimming his eyes over her bare shoulders, her chest. He looked up at her face, glad she'd gone back to daydreaming and left him to examine her beautiful body. He couldn't stop himself, as much as his mind told him to. He'd never seen her wearing so little, even in the sweltering hot of the summer.
He had been studying her face, sadder than normal, but his eyes kept slipping downward, to her neck, her shoulders, her arms, her cleavage.
Then he noticed the bruises. Dark bruises marring her perfect, pale skin. "What happened?" He asked suddenly.
"What do you mean?" She replied, shaking herself from a sumptuous daydream in which he was currently seducing her.
"You've got bruises." He said, taking a couple steps toward her. "Here." He skimmed his finger lightly across the crests of her breasts, astonishing her with their coldness. "And here." He scattered his fingers along the sides of her arms. As he did so, she looked away from him. "Kitty, what happened?"
"Nothing." She said, praying that he wouldn't make her tell him-the object of her eternal affections-that she had practically slept with another man.
"Kitty, you're hurt. I want you to tell me why." His fingers were trailing mindlessly across her skin, his mind being occupied elsewhere.
Every touch was like a dagger of mixed pleasures to her sensitive skin. His cool touch soothed her bruises, and yet ignited fires in her skin that scorched through her veins. She couldn't speak.
"Kitty." He said, tilting her head upwards so that she was looking at him, his voice pleading that she just tell him. She relished in the touches that he gave her, no matter that she knew that they were only the caring touches of a concerned teacher. She almost sighed as he looked into her eyes. They were filled with concern, and deep down there was a boiling anger that she knew was for whoever had done this to her.
She hardly knew how to begin. She didn't want him to think she was a doing it for romance. That could tear him away from her-if he did, in fact, have any feelings for her in the first place. She could hardly get the words out as she began to think about it. "I was on a date." She paused, knowing that she'd never thought of it as a date, not really, more of an outing. "Well, I guess he thought it was a date. I just wanted to get out for a while." She paused again, breathing in and out, slowly, trying to gather her thoughts. Then she began retelling the events of the evening. Dinner, dancing, talking. And as she got into her room, what happened, she blanched. "I'm sorry, you don't want to hear all the gory details." Her eyes filled up with tears as she waited for him to lift his hands away from her tainted skin, for him to step away.
But he didn't. It lifted her heart that he didn't. Her tears began to fall as he gathered her to him. "Shhhh." He said. "Tell me...let it all out, let it all go."
"I couldn't make him stop." She said, not wanting to tell him why, knowing that she had to. "I couldn't control my body. I *wanted* him to stop, but I didn't." Her voice got clogged, sad, and yet filled with anger. "And I kept telling him to stop, but he wouldn't, he didn't listen to me." She paused, trying to gather the breath to speak again, thinking about it, just think about how he had violated her body, how he had violated her ignited a flame of rage in her. "I told him I would tell you, tell Professor Xavier, if he didn't stop. And then he did. He just stopped, and left." She buried her face into his chest, savoring the last moments of contact that she would share with him. Then she spoke what she had been thinking all along: "You hate me now, don't you?"
"Why would you think that?" He asked her, the outrage barely seeping into his voice. She burrowed deeper into his chest. "Kitty, look at me." He said. Her eyes shot up, looking straight into his. "*Why* would you think that?"
"Jillian..." Kitty mumbled, her eyes glazing over as she looked away from him.
Then she began to tell the story.
She had heard him before he'd come in. She had known he was there, she always knew when he was there. But he hadn't known she was. As much was evident by his wide eyes as he saw her, and the involuntary shudder that had run through his body as he tried to get it under control.
"Kitty." He said, gaining control of his nerves and his body. "What are you doing up so late?"
She looked away from him and shrugged. "I spilled something on my bed, I wanted to wash my sheets before I went to sleep." He knew that she was lying, her voice gave it away, but-though he was curious-it was her business. "Why are you up so late?" She countered, trying to lead the subject away from herself.
"Couldn't sleep." He said, looking around.
"Why?" She asked.
He was hardly going to tell her that he'd been having explicitly erotic dreams, involving dressing her up like a sundae for him to eat. "Dreams." He said, trying to keep the lust out of his voice.
It seemed as if the conversation was over, but he couldn't make his feet move. So he just stood there, looking at her, skimming his eyes over her bare shoulders, her chest. He looked up at her face, glad she'd gone back to daydreaming and left him to examine her beautiful body. He couldn't stop himself, as much as his mind told him to. He'd never seen her wearing so little, even in the sweltering hot of the summer.
He had been studying her face, sadder than normal, but his eyes kept slipping downward, to her neck, her shoulders, her arms, her cleavage.
Then he noticed the bruises. Dark bruises marring her perfect, pale skin. "What happened?" He asked suddenly.
"What do you mean?" She replied, shaking herself from a sumptuous daydream in which he was currently seducing her.
"You've got bruises." He said, taking a couple steps toward her. "Here." He skimmed his finger lightly across the crests of her breasts, astonishing her with their coldness. "And here." He scattered his fingers along the sides of her arms. As he did so, she looked away from him. "Kitty, what happened?"
"Nothing." She said, praying that he wouldn't make her tell him-the object of her eternal affections-that she had practically slept with another man.
"Kitty, you're hurt. I want you to tell me why." His fingers were trailing mindlessly across her skin, his mind being occupied elsewhere.
Every touch was like a dagger of mixed pleasures to her sensitive skin. His cool touch soothed her bruises, and yet ignited fires in her skin that scorched through her veins. She couldn't speak.
"Kitty." He said, tilting her head upwards so that she was looking at him, his voice pleading that she just tell him. She relished in the touches that he gave her, no matter that she knew that they were only the caring touches of a concerned teacher. She almost sighed as he looked into her eyes. They were filled with concern, and deep down there was a boiling anger that she knew was for whoever had done this to her.
She hardly knew how to begin. She didn't want him to think she was a doing it for romance. That could tear him away from her-if he did, in fact, have any feelings for her in the first place. She could hardly get the words out as she began to think about it. "I was on a date." She paused, knowing that she'd never thought of it as a date, not really, more of an outing. "Well, I guess he thought it was a date. I just wanted to get out for a while." She paused again, breathing in and out, slowly, trying to gather her thoughts. Then she began retelling the events of the evening. Dinner, dancing, talking. And as she got into her room, what happened, she blanched. "I'm sorry, you don't want to hear all the gory details." Her eyes filled up with tears as she waited for him to lift his hands away from her tainted skin, for him to step away.
But he didn't. It lifted her heart that he didn't. Her tears began to fall as he gathered her to him. "Shhhh." He said. "Tell me...let it all out, let it all go."
"I couldn't make him stop." She said, not wanting to tell him why, knowing that she had to. "I couldn't control my body. I *wanted* him to stop, but I didn't." Her voice got clogged, sad, and yet filled with anger. "And I kept telling him to stop, but he wouldn't, he didn't listen to me." She paused, trying to gather the breath to speak again, thinking about it, just think about how he had violated her body, how he had violated her ignited a flame of rage in her. "I told him I would tell you, tell Professor Xavier, if he didn't stop. And then he did. He just stopped, and left." She buried her face into his chest, savoring the last moments of contact that she would share with him. Then she spoke what she had been thinking all along: "You hate me now, don't you?"
"Why would you think that?" He asked her, the outrage barely seeping into his voice. She burrowed deeper into his chest. "Kitty, look at me." He said. Her eyes shot up, looking straight into his. "*Why* would you think that?"
"Jillian..." Kitty mumbled, her eyes glazing over as she looked away from him.
Then she began to tell the story.
