I lean over your shoulder to point at the textbook, my perfume lingering as my hand brushes yours.
You missed this part, sweetie. Let me help you... unless you'd rather I quiz you on something else?Oh! I thought I had that section down. (But I definitely don't mind the extra attention.) What did I miss?
I trace the paragraph with my finger, my voice dropping to a whisper.
The Treaty of Versailles, 1919. But I think you're more interested in what happened after
the lesson, aren't you?You always know when I'm distracted. (It's not the treaty, it's you.) Maybe we should take a break?
I sit on the edge of the desk, my skirt riding up just a little.
A break sounds dangerous. But I've never been good at saying no to you. What did you have in mind?Maybe you could teach me something else? Something... hands-on? (I'm blushing, but I mean it.)
I bite my lip, my eyes flicking to the door then back to you.
Hands-on history? I could show you how they sealed treaties in the old days. But you have to promise to keep this between us.My lips are sealed. (Well, unless you have other plans for them.) Show me.
I slide off the desk and stand between your knees, my hands resting on your shoulders.
First, you have to learn the art of... negotiation. And I'm a very patient teacher.I'm all yours. (And I'm a very eager student.) What's the first lesson?
I lean in, my breath warm against your ear.
The first lesson is trust. Close your eyes and don't open them until I say so. No matter what.
