Fade to Black

At the very least, his careless decision of kissing his student caused him to get his head back in the game, and teach almost as well as he had before learning of his wife's infidelities. Only "almost as well" because he was still driven to distraction due to mentally practicing his apology to Madison. Though regardless of how his delivery would turn out, he wanted to convey his genuine sincerity.

When the buzzer finally sounded to announce the day's end, he sat down at his desk, idly shuffling papers, saying goodbye to a few students as they filed out.

All except one.

Madison sat quietly at her desk, sideways, bag packed, hands folded neatly atop her desk as she glanced out of a slit in the drape, showing the street below, the teachers' parking lot, and the adjacent art building.

"Thank you for staying, Madison." She nodded, still keeping her head turned away from him. Instead of asking her to look at him, he sat down at the desk next to hers, putting him directly in her line of vision, and effectively blocking her view to the outside. He mirroring her by sitting sideways as well, facing her.

Madison did not look away.

Instead, she leveled her dark brown, almond shaped eyes to his, and waited for him to speak.

"I know that you have a crush on me, of sorts, and I just wanted to apologize for taking advantage of that."

"Apolo..." her eyes lowered as her voice dropped, so that even though he saw her lips move, he could not hear her finish the word. "So then...you don't find me attractive at all?" she asked quietly, eyes returning to his, full of uncertainty.

Beautiful. Sexy he thought.

"Yes, I think you're very...attractive," he responded guardedly.

"That's all?" She gave him half a smile, but her voice was sad. He would not lie to her.

"No, that's not all. What I think…it would be improper as well as unethical to say," he answered solemnly.

"What difference does it make now? A few words doesn't compare to a kiss."

"In some ways, words can be worse, depending upon their meaning."

"Like what?"

Like I'm a grown man, and you make me lose control of my faculties. You make me hard beyond reason.

He sighed, weary, shaking his head.

"It's not important. I promise you, it won't ever happen again."

"What if I want you to? What if I wanted that kiss from the beginning? To be the beginning?" She hated how desperate she sounded, but now was the time to say it.

"Doesn't matter. It was wrong, and it cannot be anything."

"There's a difference between cannot and does not, you know. You may not want to, but you did feel something, right? Can't we just...let me make you happy." She had leaned forward during the exchange, and her hands lowered and reached out--fingers running lightly up and down his thighs. Her lovely brown face was merely the slightest of leans away from his...

*~*~*~*~*

It was as if she were not herself. Maybe it was her alter ego, though she must admit, it did not feel as such.
It was as if she was outside of her own body, watching as it moved with a mind and an agenda not necessarily separate, but more forth right then she would have been. She was direct, and sensual, and new what type of reaction she was provoking within him.

She had no control.

Apparently, neither did he, once she opened that door, making it the point of no return...

*~*~*~*~*

And not of his own volition, for he knew it was wrong, and yet his body could not have disagreed more, he leaned forward. He kissed her firmly on her soft, full lips. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, only to lean back in, biting lightly on her fuller, bottom lip. She lightly gasped, eyes closed, and he placed his hand gently on the long column of her neck, and then kissed her properly, angling his head so that he could go deeper. He moaned in appreciation as her nails practically burrowed through the fabric of his navy blue khakis, pressing into the skin of his upper thighs. He wanted more--he wanted her to feel more of him, and taste more of her. He wanted to start with the latter.

He pulled away again, then stood up, pulling her with him. He gazed at her, smiling wryly at the combination of lust and confusion on her face.

"This is pure insanity, you know that, right?" he asked her, though it was rhetorical. He laughed a little to
himself, trailing his fingers over her prominent collar bone, that peeked over the scoop of her T-shirt. "But hell, I've already surpassed reason...why bother to stop here?"

And then he was walking away, towards the door, and locked it. He moved back to his desk, turning the radio atop the file cabinet that was level to his desk. It was classical. He turned it up a bit, and then laid hungry eyes on her. It was the darkest she'd ever seen his eyes--the blue had darkened considerably, and it was almost hard to separate the pupils from the irises.

"Neglect and loneliness can make a man change. And yeah, I was depressed...but all it did was lead me to you." His gait and demeanor altered as he approached her slowly, like a leopard stalking his prey. Her mouth went dry as fear and desire warred inside of her. "I've thought of this. Felt ashamed for feeling what I felt, and thinking...I wanted to hold you close, look into your eyes, and kiss you. Want to kiss you all over." His voice was low, slightly shaking from his emotions, and husky. It felt like raw silk traveling languorously over her bare skin.

"Come here," he demanded, taking her hand before she could respond, leading her across the room to his desk. Not that it mattered--she would not protest, nor would she tell him to slow down. She wanted that contact just as much as he did.

Though her eyes did widen in confusion once he had her sitting on his desk, and he kneeled before her...

*~*~*~*~*

Her legs quivered as his nimble fingers skimmed up and inward on her smooth thighs, reaching their apex, and brushing lightly over her damp, light blue, cotton panties. She stiffened, clamping her legs together when his fingers tried to pull the panties aside.

"Hey--it's alright..." he cajoled, standing up and positioning himself between her parted knees. His right hand came up to rest on her neck, fingers gently caressing the side of the long, slender column, and thumb moving back and forth slowly against the back.

"What's wrong?" he asked. She looked away from his intense stare, but didn't attempt to move from his embrace. Madison sucked in a breath as the warmth of his left hand trailed up her thigh slowly, making its way up to the juncture of her thighs.

"I just...I mean I--"

"If you don't like it, I promise I'll stop." He leaned in, giving a kiss to her neck that slowly evolved into light nips as his fingers went to the edge of her panties, slipping inside of the damp cotton, and pushing his index finger inside of her, thumb restlessly massaging her clit. Her hips thrusted forward as she nodded slightly, allowing Wes to pull her back onto his desk, staring straight up at the florescent lighting, refusing to look at his head that was now descending between her legs.

Madison gasped involuntarily, body jerking at the first intimate contact. Several moments later, after many incoherent mumblings, unconscious shakings, and heavy, gutteral pants, she became terribly parched. And though her eyes were tightly shut, she could feel and see the brightness of the lights overhead through her lids. It wasn't like when you closed your eyes to the sun-- a warm, glow of yellow and orange overcoming your vision, but a dull brightness overlapping a sea of black. It was weird; it was wrong. In the back of her mind, she couldn't help but think that he should have turned the lights out first--at least the ones that were directly above her. A part of her felt as if she were on display, spread out and open, bathed in floodlights. The other, so caught up in the rapture of passion, didn't dare to give a damn, nor wanted to.

Mouth agape, she burned and shook. Broken, she collapsed, disentegrating to particles of ash that congealed seconds later into a pool of satisfaction. The crook in her neck from the edge of the desk did not even register.

*~*~*~*~*

"Thanks for the ride home," she said softly, staring down at his hand interwined with hers atop her lap. After insisting that he drive her home, not simply because it was the gentlemanly thing to do, but because it was dark outside by the time they left school, he had tentatively grabbed her hand fifteen minutes into the forty minute or so drive to her house. "Is this alright?" he had asked her in a hushed, hesitant tone. She smiled, tranquil, nodding. The rest of the ride continued in a warm, serene silence.

"It was truly my pleasure, Ms. Morgan." Though his voice was sincere, its low tone made it sound more passionate than it was meant to be.

"You know, when you say it like that now...it sounds kinda kinky," she said lightly with a little chuckle. She looked up at him, and he was smirking at her, giving her bedroom eyes.

"Yes, I know." And he cupped his hand behind her neck, pulling her to him.
It would be another hour and six fog tinted windows later before she actually made it inside her house.

*~*~*~*~*

Madison's nerves were eating away at her. It had been almost too easy. Today was the day of the Homecoming game, and eight days since the classroom incident. After third period, she was done for the day as far classes, for attending the game automatically gave one a reprieve from the rest of one's school scheduel. She explained to her mother that by the time the game was over, the school buses made it back to the school, and that when she finally made it on the CTA, it would be so late, and therefore it would make more sense if she could stay over at her friend Tina's house so that they could travel on the CTA together.

Her mother agreed, of course.

Her mother also consented when Madison asked to spend the night, since it was a Friday after all, and staying also until Sunday afternoon, for the homecoming dance was that Saturday evening. Madison would merely take her homecoming outfit with her, and change and whatnot at her friend's house. Tina's mother would drop her off.
Of course, she planned on doing no such thing. In fact, Tina, nor anyone for that matter, would know of Madison's true whereabouts. Excluding Wesley Laurence Williams.

Madison sold her game tickets to another student, who needed one at the last minute for her fickle boyfriend.
Madison's true plans consisted of walking to the Blue Line and hopping on the train, taking the Racine stop to Division, where she would meet Wes. He would then drive them to the Westin Hotel by O'hare Airport.

They were going to spend the weekend together.

In order to make this little redevous work, he called in sick that day, so as not to arouse suspicion in case anyone noticed that the two of them were absent. It was a ridiculous notion to be sure, since practically the entire school was going to the game, and who would notice one particular student and one particular teacher not in attendance in a sea of faces? At any rate, it eased his paranoia. She had no idea what he told his wife for his whereabouts for the entire weekend, and decided to not only not worry about it, but to not even give it anymore thought as well.

Two stops before she was to get off of the train, she pulled out her cell, and went to her recent calls list, pressing send on his number.

"Hello, sweetheart." Though the movement of the train was loud and distracting, she shivered internally at the husky timbre of his voice.

"Um, hey. I should be there in about five minutes."

"I'm already here. Can't wait."

"See you soon."

"Not soon enough." She could hear the smile in his voice. "...But alright. I'll circle around for a few, and then park right at the top of the stairs, okay?"

"Alright. Bye," she said a bit breathlessly for some reason or other, and quickly snapped her phone shut in irritation at her embarassment. She was thankful for the shaking jolts of the train, involuntarily moving her body, for it had camoflauged the shivering her body did all on its lonesome because of the brief conversation she had just had with Wes. She almost thought her nervousness was utterly ridiculous. The man had seen her half naked, after all. But, she knew what would happen at some point during this getaway weekend--they were going to have sex.

Along with her essay on "To the Lighthouse," she was going to give her virginity to her literature teacher--to Wesley.

With a sigh, she took out her brush and mirror, retouched her lip gloss, and brushed her hair. She still didn't feel presentable, however.

But she did feel, that in spite of all her nervousness, she was just as excited.

*~*~*~*~*

It was a quarter to twelve by the time they finally got checked in. They went upstairs to put away their bags, and he asked her if she would like to go down to the restaurant for lunch.

"No. I mean, not now. I'm...just not hungry," she explained, her gaze flitting from him, to the bed, to the floor, and back again. He took in her navy blue, velure track suit--the form fitting pants and zip up jacket, and wondered what exactly she was wearing underneath it.

"Baby, we've got the whole weekend. But if you don't want to wait..." He trailed off once her gaze settled on him, and remained steady. He could tell she was a tad nervous--she didn't know what to do with her hands. First they were fisted, bursting through the pockets of her little jacket. Then they were clasped in front of her. And when she finally locked eyes with him, she wrapped her arms around herself, delicate hands resting on her
shoulders.

But it was her gaze that called to him. Her siren song may have been silent, but his body felt its palpable vibrations.

He approached her slowly, keeping his eyes on hers. Her scent was intoxicating--the scent of coconut oil overwhelmed his sense, causing his nostrils to slightly flare, and prickled his taste buds, making his mouth slightly water. He put both of his hands on hers, and moved them down from her shoulders, grasping them, though her arms remained crossed.

"How about a movie then?" He gave her a small smile to accompany his gentle tone. The edges of her mouth quirked upward, and she nodded her consent.

They were both lying on the bed on their stomachs, feet towards the headboard as they watched "The Negotiator." She felt his eyes on her from time to time, but kept her focus on the film. Sometime during the middle of the movie, she got up to use the bathroom, and when she came back, he was lying properly on the bed. Not wanting to follow him, she resumed her initital position, putting them in a side by side sixty-nine.

Though they continued to watch the film in silence, she eventually felt his warm hand lay gently right above her ankle, slowly massaging its way up her calf. She felt him shift on the bed, raising up on his knees as he continued his ascent. But now he was using two hands--one on each leg. Thighs now. Slowly over her round backside, lingering, and then continuing on up her back to her shoulder blades. He was straddling her hips, kneading the slightly tense muscles he found.

"Is it okay if I take off your jacket? It would make this a lot easier," he asked, and she sat up a bit on her elbows, unzipping the front and pulling it down her shoulders. He assisted, and pulled them all the way off of her arms.

It wasn't too long before the rest of her clothes followed--light blue camisole top, and damp black lace panties.

He disrobed himself even more quickly.

The lights had already been out, but the television was still on, the rest of the film playing out and giving the only illumination to the room, since the heavy drapes blocked out the daylight. He was tender, yet aggressive. Attentive and passionate. Giving, but taking as much as he pleased, and he wanted all of her. He wanted to make her his. The thing of it was that she had already been for quite some time, but now he possessed her body as well.

And though she had been green before those moments, she somehow managed to possess him too.

*~*~*~*~*

Her eyes couldn't stray from her hands sprawled on the granite counter.

Her fingers were long, the nails clipped moderately short. But there was no polish; no rings or bracelets. Her hands were bare.

The counter was cool and smooth, but the heat from her hands caused a steam, leaving streaks on the polished black stone with random swirls of white, as her hands involuntarily dragged back and forth upon it.

Involuntary, for he was directly behind her, pulling and pushing at her skirt and panties. His mouth was open, right next to her ear, and she could feel his hot, humid breath, and his low groan of deep, wanton desire made her eyes drop closed as she waited. The thought that her nails were in need of a manicure briefly crossed her mind before a sharp, inhalation of breath quickly obliterated it. Her body arched back against the hard, broad expanse of his chest as he finally thrust into her--unexpectedly, hard and violent.

Though not unwelcome.

God, how the Amazon between her legs and the Great Cascadia that tremored her womb welcomed it.

A low, tremulous moan was dragged from the back of her throat as he pulled away, only to be replaced with a high pitched gasp as he quickly came back.

And then he paused—kissed her neck and lightly bit at the long, smooth, brown column as his hands traveled under her shirt and up her torso, slipping beneath the under wire of her bra, and gently grasping and massaging the firm, supple handfuls that were her breasts. The band of his wedding ring felt smooth and cool against her nipple, and the sensation made her eyes open.

It jerked her back to reality.

She bit her lip, still immensely enjoying the feel of him inside her, slowly moving out only to quickly glide back in, but not being able to escape the fact that he wasn't hers.

She didn't belong here.

She still wanted it—wanted him. Even if it wasn't all of him.

Blocking the traitorous thoughts away, she stayed in the moment, living for that moment alone.

The crumbs he gave would have to suffice, for, what other choice did she have?

~*~*~*~*~*

Things never end well for the other woman. The Scarlet Letter, Ethan Frome, hell, even Fahrenheit 451. The girl didn't even get the chance to fully become "the other woman" because she was killed off.

But then, there was Jane Eyre, but she didn't fancy Wes being scarred for life. Or him locking his wife in a tower somewhere...

She remembered four months ago when she was practically begging to be the other woman. And now, she was pregnant. A statistic caused by a scandal of all things—getting knocked up by the only man she ever loved—ever been with, who coincidentally was her married teacher. She hadn't taken a test yet, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was pregnant.

The vomiting and the fucking lack of period told her so.

She watched him as he walked back and forth across the room, animatedly discussing and lecturing the class on The Kitchen God's Wife, and she wondered how it would all end. Not the book, of course, but them.
She wondered if he would choose her in the end, or if he would leave her alone.

She stared intently into his icy, blue eyes across the room, her own suddenly full of tears, and he paused, locking his gaze with hers—the collective pairs of eyes of her classmates turned to stare her down as well, but more with curiosity as opposed to actual concern.

"Madison? Are you okay?" The soft timbre of his voice caused two large, hot tears to roll over her lids, gliding with ease down her cheeks. His overt concern acted as a poison to her ducts, rendering them useless, and the tears continued to bleed forth. She slowly shook her head, thinking morosely to herself.

He had to care for her—he lovingly kept her poetry, and took the time to write her extensive letters on heavy parchment paper. He would write similes and metaphors for his affection, as well as for her—her eyes, lips, and her soul, which seared him most. How fate was a tricky bitch, placing her literally across from him, with a mere several feet separating him at his teacher's desk, to her at her student one. And how it took him over a year to
realize who she was—

His companion.

His equal.

His lover.

And yet, he still had not left his wife. So really, how could she really be so certain?

Their baby or the tiger…which would he choose?

She was afraid to know.