Teacher's Pet (12 page)

He switched his gaze quickly to a point on the floor, by her feet. 

“Paul,” she said.  “Look at me.”  When he lifted his eyes to meet hers, there was palpable anger in their depths.  He said nothing.  “Paul.  You’ve got to trust me.  There’s nothing between James and me.  It’s over.  He’s the twins’ father, that’s all.”  She reached out and took his hand.  Holding his gaze steadily, she said:  “I wanted to be with you that night.  Not with him.”

Slowly, the anger disappeared and his eyes took on a tender glow again.  He put his other hand over hers, stroking her skin gently.

“I wanted to be with you, too,” he said.  “But when I realised I couldn’t, I felt so angry, I could have punched James.  I’m sorry, Allie.  I really should have stayed.”

There was a moment of hesitation. 
Allie could hear murmured conversation all around her, men laughing at the bar, someone ringing the bell at the reception desk.  The noises seemed to come from a long way away, as if through a haze.  She felt as though there were only the two of them in the room.  Then, suddenly, before she could stop herself, the truth came out.

“Paul.  I want to be with you.”  He smiled, and the ensuing warmth of his gaze reached into her heart.  “Now,” she added, for good measure.

“Your wish is my command, Mrs. Johnson,” he said, as he stood up and pulled her to her feet.  “Would you like to come and inspect my room?”

“Now, there’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

“So.  Don’t.”

She was grinning like a Cheshire cat as he led her out of the foyer and up the stairs.

At last
, she thought.
  No neighbours, no cleaning ladies, no phone calls, no ex-husbands.  Just me and the man of my dreams.

They walked up the narrow staircase together, hand in hand.  The skin of his fingers felt smooth and cool.  Allie
could hear her heart pounding.  The sound filled her head.  As they reached the first floor, Allie hesitated, pulling back a little.

“Paul, what if anyone sees us?”

He turned to face her, light from the large, stained glass window reflecting onto his hair, turning the light brown to gold.

“So?  What if anyone sees us?  No one here knows us, do they?”

She took in his powerful silhouette, his confident stance. 

“I don’t mean just anyone.  What about the kids?”

He smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t worry about them.  I mentioned to the concierge that if any of them should find their way downstairs, he should contact me in my room.”

“When did you do that?”

“Never you mind,” he chuckled.  “The important thing is
we’re safe.  And so are they.”

He swiped his card and they stepped noiselessly into the dimly lit, silent first floor corridor.

“Are they all asleep?”  Allie whispered, as Paul opened the door to his room and stood back to let her through.

“I certainly hope so,
” he said.

He followed her in and closed the door quietly behind him, leaning back onto it.  His eyes seemed to burn into her.

“They should be exhausted after the trip,” he added.

“Let’s hope so.”

For a moment, Allie wasn’t quite sure what she should do.  This was the moment she had been waiting for.  The moment they had both been waiting for, yet all of a sudden she felt awkward.  Unable to move.  Like prey hypnotised by a predator.  Albeit an extremely attractive one.

“So, here we are,” she began, returning his gaze, the intense darkness of which made her stomach churn.

He moved towards her and placed a finger on her lips.

“It’s OK,” he murmured.  “Don’t talk.”

Before she could gather her thoughts, his arms were around her and his mouth was crushing hers.  She gasped as she realised the savage force of his passion.  He lifted her up effortlessly and laid her down on the embroidered linen quilt, kissing her face and caressing her body as he knelt down on the floor beside the bed.  She sighed as she felt the heat travel downwards from her stomach, and cried out in ecstasy as it became a fire only he could quench.  She relished the feel of his firm, muscular back and the curve of his powerful shoulders under her fingers.  With his strong arms around her, she felt both desired and protected, coveted and revered.  He murmured in a voice thick with emotion, and she could hear herself moaning in response, as if from afar.  As the physical thrill crowded out all other perception, she felt herself being carried along by the rush of sensations to a place where words had no meaning and primeval instincts prevailed.  She was engulfed by the overwhelming feeling of him possessing her, and her closing in around him.  As she reached her peak, she could feel his rough cheek brushing hers and his firm hand covering her mouth, forcing her back down, prolonging the pleasure.

Late
r, Allie and Paul were lying on the bed, their clothes scattered around them on the floor.  She had snuggled into the space under his arm, a space she now felt confident she had a right to.  She breathed in his musky scent, relishing the sensual images it conjured up and the waves of relaxation washing over her.  Closing her eyes, she had a feeling that this was where she belonged.  For the time being, she had no intention of moving.

“Allie?”  Paul’s voice sounded deeper than usual.  “You’re not asleep, are you?  That’s what us men are supposed to do.  Not you women.”

“No.”  She rolled away from him slightly and stretched out lazily, aware that she could easily doze off, and it probably wasn’t a good idea.  She should really be thinking of getting back to her room.  Turning her head and letting her eyes linger on his smooth chest, she smiled.  “Does that mean you’re going to go to sleep now, then?  Being the man, and all that.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze sweeping over her naked body and coming to rest on her face.

“No,” he chuckled.  “Not with a body like this next to me.”  He began to stroke her flat stomach softly, almost absentmindedly.  His eyes held hers.  “I don’t intend to sleep tonight.”

She felt a familiar stirring deep inside. 
Surely not
.

“Paul.  We’
re going to be wrecked tomorrow…” she began.

He raised one eyebrow, eyes twinkling.

“You mean, you’ve had enough?” he asked.  “We were just warming up, weren’t we?”

She laughed out loud as he bent to kiss her shoulder, and slowly began to work his way down.  She found her eyes drawn to the shape of the muscles in his back, which shifted and flexed as he changed position.  The warm feeling in the pit of her stomach gradually began to work its way outwards.

“I suppose resistance is futile,” she giggled, as his lips brushed the top of her legs.

“Definitely,” he breathed.  “Resistance is f
un, but ultimately futile.”

She closed her eyes and gave in. 
After all
, she told herself,
you only live once.  And
this
, she admitted, as ripples of pleasure began to travel up her body again,
this was living.

Allie relaxed as cascades of warm water ran over her skin.  Just about every muscle ached, and her senses were still tingling, heightened by the last few hours’ activity.  She felt as though she had run a marathon, worked out for a week, not to mention cycled to Scotland and back.  Totally exhausted, she felt a buoyant sense of exhilaration at the same time.  She hadn’t just won the gold, but also drunk a bo
ttle of champagne to celebrate.

After a while she turned off the shower and stepped out reluctantly, groping for her watch in the small, steamy ensuite bathroom.  Having finally torn herself away from Paul’s embrace and made it back to her own room, she was beginning to worry that Miss Simpson would now burst in on her, like some kind of puritanical teenage daughter, eyes full of disapproval at the thought of someone so much older than herself having fun.  Or having sex.  Or, God forbid, having both at the same time.

Wiping the condensation off the face of her oversized red timepiece, she smiled: two o’clock in the morning, and still no sign of her young roommate.  Well, well, well.  Breakfast at eight looked like it was going to be fun.  Miss Simpson and Miss O’Hara would presumably just stroll in off the street and sit down, she thought.  Totally unaware of how much Allie had enjoyed herself without having to leave the hotel.  Or pay exorbitant nightclub prices.  Or dance to old Eurovision hits.  Or even speak French.

She opened the door and wrapped one thick, luxurious towel around her body, draping another over her shoulders.  Stepping out of the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the antique mirror above the dresser.  Waves of damp blonde hair swirled around her shoulders, the odd stray tendril sticking to her flushed cheeks.  She looked happy.  Content.  Confident.  Everything Paul made her feel.  There was a new sparkle in her eyes, a new spring to her step.  She felt desirable and sexy.  Loved.  Pausing for a moment to enjoy what she saw in the glass, she realised there had been no physical change in her outward appearance.  She had, of course, always looked like this.  The transformation came from within.  From her perception of herself.  And the happiness that radiated out from her very core, lighting her up.  She grinned at the thought: she could save a fortune.  No need for plastic surgery, facials, a diet, or a makeover.  As long as she had Paul Richmond, she would always feel beautiful.

A sudden, sharp rap at the door interrupted her reverie.

“Allie!  Open up.  Quickly!” 
Paul’s voice was low.  He sounded desperate. 
What a man
, she mused. 
He gives the words ‘healthy libido’ a whole new meaning.

“Good God, Paul!  Is there no rest for the wicked?”  she giggled, opening the door.

The laughter stopped in her throat as she took in Paul, mouth set, eyes like thunder, and Melanie, standing behind him, with a dazed look on her face, tears rolling noiselessly down her cheeks.

“Shit,” she breathed.  “What’s happened?”

His eyes flickered down her body, then moved swiftly up again.  She had never seen such darkness in their depths.  He took a deep breath, leaning one arm against the doorframe.  Melanie was staring at her blankly.

“It’s Billy,” muttered Paul.  His voice was choked with emotion.  “He’s not in his room.  He’s gone.”

The skies above Nancy were full of magic.  The subtle glow of the ornate lanterns on the narrow winding streets wasn’t strong enough to blot out the stars and they twinkled down benevolently, reflecting off the cobbles and wrought iron.  They seemed to watch over the activity of the three figures on the edge of the park, as they ran over
the grass, calling out in ever more despairing voices: “Billy!  Billy!”

The dark shapes fanned out as they approached the cages at the centre.  These contained a small collection of wildlife, and were encircled by fountains, gravel walkways, cafes and benches: making up the rather grandly-named Municipal Zoo.  By day, as they walked in the sunlight, the good people of the town watched the mournful brown bears in their pit, swaying their heads heavily as they changed direction in their never-ending dance, to and fro, to and fro.  They delighted in the squawking of the exotic birds, the magnificent snarl of the lion, solitary and regal in its enclosure.  Above all, the people loved to come and see Jo-Jo, the chimp.  A local celebrity, Jo-Jo’s sad
brown eyes shone in his wizened face as he observed the humans closely, occasionally entertaining them by making faces, or mimicking their gestures.  His main claim to fame, however, was that he smoked the odd cigarette, tossed in to him when the keeper’s back was turned.  Now a hardened nicotine addict, Jo-Jo was constantly on the lookout for anyone who would feed his habit, or perhaps offer him equally pleasurable alternatives, such as sweets, chocolate, or bananas.

Tonight, his brow wrinkled as he caugh
t sight of the humans, two females and a male.  They all seemed agitated, the dark-haired woman especially so, and he shook his head slowly.  When would they learn?  They had obviously lost offspring.  He saw it happen with depressing regularity.  For a so-called superior species, homo sapiens could be amazingly careless as far as their future was concerned.  Global warming aside, there was the question of awareness of your environment at every level.  Animals were experts at looking out for predators.  It was a question of survival. If you didn’t know what was going on all around you at any given time, you would end up as somebody’s lunch.  So you kept an eye on your surroundings, and didn’t let your young out of your sight.  A practice the humans had, after years of what they called ‘evolution’, somehow lost. 

The powerful primate turned his head slowly and checked on the sleeping figure on the grass outside his cage.  That must be the young one they were looking for.  He had noticed him earlier
in the day, as he had been the only child who had gazed at him for more than five minutes, yet never looked him directly in the eye..  Sometimes, it happened.  Jo-Jo could tell from the other humans’ reactions to this boy that he wasn’t like them.  He didn’t talk to anyone, for a start.  Or appear to hear what they were saying.  But Jo-Jo had seen in his eyes a look he recognised.  The look of a human who was extra fragile.  Vulnerable.  Unable to communicate with those around him.  And easy prey for a predator.  He called out to the humans, to try and tell them that he was safe.  

“God, this
place gives me the creeps,” muttered Allie, as they all met up again by the bandstand.  “I wish that chimp would shut up!”

Paul glanced at Melanie, his eyes full of worry.

“Melanie, why are you so convinced he’ll be here somewhere?”

Melanie was panting.  She had been running, in order to cover twice the distance.

“I just have a hunch.  He seemed to really like it here earlier.”  She struggled to catch her breath.  “He’s done this before.  Escaped during the night.  When we were on holiday in Devon.  I found him in the morning, sitting watching the boats in the harbour.”

“And he was OK?”  Allie’s voice betrayed her disbelief.

“Fine,” said Melanie.  “And pleased to see me.  He didn’t seem to see what all the fuss was about.  Why I was worried at all.”

Paul shook his h
ead.  Beads of sweat glistened on his face.

“One more look, then we call the cops,” he sai
d.  He put his hand onto Melanie’s shoulder, as if to focus her attention.  There was, once again, a confident intimacy in his gesture that Allie noticed, with a slight pang in her stomach.  Paul continued: “OK Mel?  I don’t care if you don’t want to.  Melanie?  Melanie!”

She had broken away
and was walking slowly towards the chimp enclosure.  Allie instinctively followed her and gasped as she caught sight of a dark shape lying on the lawn area, just past the low barrier in front of the cage.  She shuddered as she noticed the biggest chimp’s silent silhouette behind the bars.  Its eyes glinted in the moonlight, but it made no move.

“Billy?”  Melanie’s voice was unsteady and echoed on the still night ai
r.  She began to run.  “Billy?”  Allie felt an almighty rush of relief as the figure sat up, rubbing its head.  “Billy!  My God, Billy, what are you doing there?”  Melanie stepped over the wooden fence and took him in her arms.  Allie heard him chuckle softly.

Before Allie had a chance to react, Paul rac
ed past her and grabbed Billy with one arm, while he pulled Mel away from the cage with the other.  The chimp still didn’t move.

“Come on!” he shouted, lifting a protesting Billy over the low fence and setting him down effortlessly beside Allie.  “Let’s get out of the reach of the chimp, shall we?”

Melanie jumped over the fence without being asked twice.  Paul glanced at the dark outline behind the bars, which had started to emit a low, growling noise.

“Time to leave,” he said, firmly, taking Billy’s hand.  “You, young man, need some sleep.”

Billy grabbed the hand offered to him and followed meekly as they made their way back towards the entrance to the park.  The growling became a high-pitched shriek, which made Allie shudder.  Noticing a tear glistening on Melanie’s cheek, she put a reassuring arm round her shoulders as they followed Paul and Billy:

“Good job you decided to check over by the chimps, eh Melanie?”

She saw Melanie attempt a weak smile as she nodded in response, her eyes on Paul’s back.  He was striding along, positively bristling with anger.

“Er, Paul…” Melanie began.

“What?”  he growled.

“Don’t be too angry with the concierge, will you?  I’m sure he
only looked away for a minute -”

“I’ll be angry with whomever I like.”

His reply stunned Allie.  It was not so much the fury, but the intimacy in his tone that puzzled her.  He was speaking to Melanie, (who was, Allie reminded herself, just the mother of one of his pupils) in a way reserved for someone far closer.  Someone he had known for a long time.  Someone who was more than a friend.  Someone who was, or had perhaps been, a lover.  As her eyes went from one to the other in the stony silence that followed, she realised there was something she was not party to.  A bond between the two of them that she was totally excluded from.  And she didn’t like the feeling.  Not one bit.

Once they got back to the hotel, Billy was promptly put to bed by Melanie.  She then retired herself, leaving Paul and Alli
e downstairs in the hotel lobby with Jacques, the elderly night porter.  Jacques had been most apologetic about Billy’s exit from the hotel, and puzzled as to how he had managed to get past him.  The only explanation had been that he had attached himself to a group that was leaving, Jacques had admitted, shamefaced.  Allie was relieved that Paul’s anger had abated somewhat by the time he spoke to Jacques.  The poor old man was visibly upset that such a thing had happened when he was on duty and genuinely seemed to fear for his job.  Paul ended up reassuring him that it wasn’t in fact his powers of observation that were being called into question, but the whole system of rigorous ID checks on the way into the hotel, but not on the way out.  Promising to raise the matter with the manageress in the morning, Paul and Allie took their leave and climbed the stairs to their floor.

“You’re sexy when you get angry in French,” began Allie, as they reached the landing.  She stopped suddenly, despairing of herself. 
Whatever had happened to playing hard to get?
  She was truly a hopeless case.  It seemed that where Paul was concerned, whatever lurid thoughts were in her head instantly appeared on her tongue.  Before her brain had a chance to censor them.

He looked at her and raised his eyebrows.

“That wasn’t quite the effect I was after,” he said.  “Assertive, authoritative, maybe even a little scary perhaps. 
Not
sexy.”  He inserted his card and pushed open the door.  “I hope Jacques didn’t get the wrong idea about me,” he added, standing back to let Allie through.

She giggled.

“I don’t think so.  You’re probably not his type.”

“I’m definitely not his type.”  Paul stood back.  “His voice may have been directed towards me, but his eyes were drawn to your breasts like….. well, like…..”

“Like bluebottles to ripe melons?”  Allie offered, smiling up at him, but not moving.

He laughed out loud.

“I was going to say, like bees to honey, but I think your metaphor catches the mood perfectly.”  He stopped laughing.  “Aren’t you coming in?”

“I’d better get back to my room.”

“What, and disturb Miss Simpson?  I wouldn’t risk arousing her wrath if I were you.”

Allie was never too sure when he was joking.  At that moment, his handsome, poker face would have been the envy of any card player.

“Wrath?  Miss Simpson?  She seems like such a calm woman,” she said.

“You
haven’t seen her with the Year Threes on a Monday morning.”  His eyes were twinkling now.  “No, seriously, Allie.  Come in.  We’ve got a few hours left until breakfast, and I need to talk to you.”  She hesitated.  “Come on,” he insisted.  “We need to talk.”  He reached out and took her hand.   “And I’ll get you coffee and croissants as soon as the local café opens,” he promised.

“You know how to turn a girl’s head,” she said, and walked in.

Paul watched as Allie sat down on the chair by the window.  For someone who had been up all night, she still looked fresh.  Good enough to eat, in fact.  She’s probably a little wary of me now, he thought, sitting back on the bed.  And who could blame her?  He was well aware she suspected something between himself and Melanie.  She wasn’t stupid.  And he should have told her before.  She had a right to know. Especially as they had crossed the boundary between friends and lovers.  They could have no secrets now.  He cleared his throat.

“I’m going to get straight to the point,” he began, seeking out her trusting blue eyes.  She looked expectant.  If she doubted him at all, she hid it well.  “I need to fill you in about Melanie.”  Her eyes darkened, just for a moment.  Outwardly, her composure was unchanged.  Stray tendrils of blonde hair had curled up around her face, adding to her air of innocence.  She looked like something from an Italian Renaissance painting.  He felt an unexpected rush of desire, and struggled to keep his mind on what he had to say.  A sudden image of Allie naked, lying beside him, blotted out all other thoughts.

“I’m listening, Paul.  You know you can tell me anything.”  Her voice was soft, yet betrayed an inner strength he wished he had.  Whoever said women were the weaker sex had no idea what he (and it had to be a ‘he’) was talking about.

He took a deep breath.

“You may have noticed that Melanie and I seem very….”  He tried to find the right word.

“Close?”  Allie offered.

“Close.  Yes.” 
Damn
.  His way with words was rapidly deserting him.

“Well, I had noticed a certain intimacy,” she remarked, giving him an encouraging look.  “And you seem to be very fond of Billy.”

He coughed.

“Allie.  What I’m about to tell you must remain between us.”  He looked into h
er eyes again.  “Will it?”

A puzzled expression flitted across her features before she nodded.

“Of course it will.”

There was a moment of silence.  Then he told her:

“Allie, Melanie Hampton is my sister.  And Billy is my nephew.”

For a moment, she couldn’t quite believe what she had heard.  Surely not.  Brother and sister?  Was that all there was between them?  Before she could stop herself, she laughed.

“Is that it?  Is that all you have to tell me?”   She shook her head slightly, trying to gather her thoughts and put them into words.  “If she’s your sister, then why the big secret?  I don’t understand.”

“I know it sounds stupid, Allie, but think about it.  Billy has a place in a mainstream school.  A place Melanie had to battle to get.  And at
Mayfield, there are strict rules about teaching a member of your own family.  If they knew Billy was my nephew, they would transfer him to another class.”

“Would that be such a problem?”

“Melanie wants me to teach him. She says I’m the only one who can get through to him.”  His voice dropped.  “Apparently, I always have been.”  He looked down for a moment and ran his fingers through his hair.  When he looked up again, it was tousled, giving him a sleepy, come-to-bed look that Allie struggled to ignore.  His expression was serious as he continued his explanation.  “I got the job because I had a lot of experience with autistic kids back home.  I talked the school into making me Billy’s designated teacher and they agreed.”